These humans were incredibly dense. The simplest information could be easily deflected or ignored by their feeble minds attempting to mold the world to their desired state. Blinking her shiny gray eyes slowly, Zeta repeated herself. "I cannot state this more clearly. I do not drink. Therefore, I would not be interested in drinking with you." After some inquiries, she had discovered that "having a drink with someone" meant an introductory sort of courtship. Zeta could understand this; her form had been expressly designed to attract humans and near-humans. Regardless, no matter how many of them she turned away, more always appeared, asking her to "drink" and "grab a bite" and "come to the rec area" with them.<em>It is unfortunate,</em>Zeta thought. If her social programming hadn't been damaged, she might be able to more accurately assess these "people" and manipulate them to her advantage. As it stood, she just wanted to kill them all. Fortunately for them, they were quite useful as allies, and shared (somewhat) a goal with her. They wanted to defeat the Empire. Zeta wanted to kill Imperials.<em>Close enough.</em><br/><br/>The meatbags were doling out awards and accolades to each other and rejoicing heartily at their success only hours before. Zeta had no interest in these things, but expected them to be presented to her at some point. She would accept them, and wear them, because it would be expected of her - the same reason she did most things around here that didn't directly involve robbing Imperials of their precious life force. For now, though, she leaned against the wall, arms folded under her breasts.