aliens

Anfini returns to observing the machine in silence, clearly processing mechanisms and work in his
own head, judging by the deep frown set into his face. In a quiet voice, he asks, "Conduit?"

You have emoted: Eleanor gives a quiet "Hm?"

"I don't... pretend to understand the secrets of the world, but I'm old, I know how to put puzzle
pieces together..." Squinting, Anfini rubs the bridge of his nose, working toward constructing his
next thoughts. "Anyone paying a lick of attention knows that you and the Commissar are... special.
Not made of flesh and blood. You're like spirits, and you're telling me now that you can feel ley
energy- what, ylem?- feel it in this machine. Just... what is going on here?"

Concerned, clearly unnerved, Dr. J. R. Anfini, the Fixer asks you, "What are you going to do to us?"
A farmer with a pitchfork spits on the ground in boredom.

You have emoted: Eleanor turns her head, looking at Anfini straight-on now. Her facial expression is
difficult to place- she blinks, brows drawn together as she considers him and his question.

You say, "You've nothing to fear from the boys or myself, doctor."

This does absolutely nothing to put Anfini at unease, but he answers, "I trust you," in the way that
clearly says otherwise.

You have emoted: Eleanor brings her cane to rest between her feet, laying both her hands atop it.
"You're not honestly distrusting me based on the colour of my blood, are you?" She seems gently
concerned.

"It- no, I mean-" Anfini wheezes a nervous laugh, tugging at his collar. "It sounds plausible,
doesn't it? Not entirely crackpot. Imagine it yourself, imagine the romance of it - a pair of alien
people, disguising themselves as metahumans we could recognize. They are passionate, intelligent,
and above all, crafty. And they need us to repair their mechanisms."

"Listen, I'm not saying it's aliens," Anfini adds, and then lifts his hands, curling them around an
invisible frame. "But aliens."