"I suppose not," mutters the heroine. Her hand reaches out and slides the glass door shut. When she looks back at you, the friendliness in her eye is gone, replaced by cold, mechanical analysis. "After all, I expect the first people you called for help was the group that made your staff. The only explanation for why your father still lies here is that they could not help. And yet, they created your third teammate," she adds with a momentary glance at Samantha, "which would require no little skill with manipulating brains and memories.
"I must admit, I am curious at this incongruity."
