Christine Duts

Sergeant Garin was one of the few who didn’t shrink back from looking the Director in the eyes. Most turned away, intimidated by the reptilian stare, but she wasn’t going to let a pair of cold eyes get the better of her. Even the stony skin around his eyes didn’t daunt her.

A small crab crawled away from Canea’s face as she lay in the mud. She rose and found Chloé in the water. She was wading knee-deep through the murky lake with spatters of mud on her face. Her usually immaculate hairdo was a big mess and covered with some twigs. If the situation wasn’t so precarious, Canea would laugh. Chloé certainly deserved it, and her irritated face only called for mockery, but Canea was not like her.

“You’ve been here before. That bartender had no problem giving you the information we needed, and you know your way around here pretty well for someone who never comes here.”
It wasn’t any of her business and Canea had no desire to tell this conceited woman her personal stuff.
“The man you had frozen out of you was a Terrarian, wasn’t he?” Chloé said.