Ix, like most who had spent time among the hodgepodge of species that got shunted into the xeno-ghettos, was familiar with psychic phenomenon. Many species had evolved to rely more on their minds than their bodies. The idea that a person that was essentially also a computer could retain such abilities was extremely bizarre. Things seemed to get ever more tangled around the appropriately enigmatic Enigma.<br/><br/>Tom's disembodied voice issuing from the intercom speakers that had been cleverly hidden into the design of the high end ship interrupted her thoughts. It took a moment to process but then she realized that the human had made a joke. Tom seemed to be more in his element now than he had in the prison, where he had been painfully out of place.<br/><br/>"I will return," Ix turned to leave before pausing in the doorway. "Rest up, Enigma."<br/><br/>Moments later she was sliding into a chair in the bridge of their ill-gotten vessel. She placed the pistol in her lap and displayed all four of her hands to Tom, a hint of lavender flickering through round eyes. "How many hands do you require?"