“Now that you mention it,” Marhtimid said, “I’ve always wondered about it, but I thought it would be rude to ask.”
He raised an upper limb above his head to reach the overhead light, adjusting it for the third time that hour.
Nadine glanced up at the overhead light and then down to her mission partner, her brows and cheeks rising. “I think I know where there is going.”
“Am I proceeding, or…?”
Nadine did a quick check of their telemetry on the tiny screen running at her left. “Go for it, Marty. Attack this delicate little human ego of mine.”
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They were right all along.
Rhine grinned as she wrote down the words in what she called her “production notebook.” From the corner of her eye, she saw a white blur dash past her as she sat at the picnic table in her back yard
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Janet’s eyes widened when she saw the four-eyed, green-antennaed, maroon-skinned biped before her that only nominally resembled one of her students. They were waiting in the wings, fifteen minutes out from the start of the next act. She could already hear people shuffling back into the auditorium from intermission, greeted by sound checks from the kids who were manning the mixing desk.
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