Ianthe's first conscious thought was a self-deprecating,<i>Oh, shit</i>. Since "leaving" the Program she'd been cornered with her guard down a few times before -- an occupational hazard when one lacked a home base to return to -- and the results had always been unpleasant and bloody. She sat up slowly, her weight leant back on her elbows, and reflexively conjured an invisible shield of telekinetic energy about her nude body while forcing a wan smile to her lips.<span style="color: mediumturquoise">"I suppose I ought to be honored,"</span>she answered in mordant tones.<span style="color: mediumturquoise">"That I was enough of a pain in your ass that you stuck around to find me, despite having every bounty hunter and hired thug from here to Horizon looking to turn you into boots and a matching handbag for either Giantprick or Klank. Not bad for just a human girl in heat, wouldn't you say?"</span><br/><br/>With her weapons locked up downstairs, she'd have to improvise her way through a fight if it came to that, and though she'd done it before she wasn't eager to test herself against a Camarian psychic of unknown power. So she kept to conversation while calling to mind the layout of the room. The furnishings might make passable telekinetic bludgeons in a pinch.<span style="color: mediumturquoise">"So what now, Charla? Are you here to kill me? If not, what do you want?"</span><br/><br/><b>[Activating Psychic Shield]</b><div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>