Sarah winced, covering her ears almost on instinct, cold metal of the projector pressing against her face. For the briefest of moments, she was back on Buffalo, being hauled from beneath a Hyena feet-first by the latest gang of drunken thugs to explain a broken fuel line. The memory was so strong she could almost smell the alcohol-flecked spittle that had smeared her jacket. Then it faded, and she left standing atop a table staring at a woman who looked as though she was trying to eviscerate Sarah by sheer force of will. Sarah took a pace to the left, simultaneously descending from the table and extraditing herself from that raptor-like glare. She briefly considered propping another table against the wall to prevent the woman's gaze from cutting into the underlying rock before concluding that would likely only result in more glares and, overall, more structural damage then it would prevent. Despite the situation, Sarah found a moment to shoot Michael a glance that was equal parts accusation and plea for help. He probably wouldn't see it in the gloom, but it made her feel a little better.
"Er."What was that, Sarah? Come on, a coherent sentence would be nice."Michael was just helping me fix the wiring in here. There's a new projector going in, and the old Type 7's couldn't really handle the draw, but I thought we had 9's in here and..." She trailed off as the woman's expression determinedly failed to improve beyond 'thundercloud'. Time for a different approach. Sarah extended a dust-coated hand. "I'm Sarah. Nice to meet you?"
"This is really sort of a personal project of mine."
- James Arland, on single-handedly engaging an enemy regiment.
