Corliss glances over at Fox as he provides his explanation, then watches the furry humanoid leave the bar. Fox was complaining about his head. Strange.
He turns to Keshin and shrugs, jerking a thumb back at Fox. "With friends like these, Keshin--really, who needs con men? Nah, still don't trust the little grub. Reckon he's just mad." He grins a little, pushing the liquor away.
Corliss nods at Morgan and replies to Parker, deliberately cryptic, "Yes, they're on an errand." Finally he sighs and looks at Zoshonel, drawing Keshin into a sort of arm's length hug. "What do you think?" He gives Joanne's shoulder a squeeze and then draws back, clearly disturbed at having touched such a vile adversary in a forced gesture of friendship. He makes a mental note of his weapons. All still in place.
He falls into silence, playing with the empty shot glass, rolling it between his hands.
<Don't ever make me hug that thing again,> Mike scowls.
<Sorry.>
<You know, Corliss,> Mike wonders aloud.
<Yes, Mike, I do know. And I reckon that's the only logical explanation.>
<Yeah, but let me think out loud, 'ere. Terenia's an Andalite, right? And she has a bloody Bug fighter. No Andalite militia in their right mind would ever give an Andalite in human morph a Bug fighter. But it's more than that, they wouldn't even
have a Bug fighter to give.>
<Uh-huh,> says Corliss, waiting for his human friend's wheels to click.
<So she 'as to 'ave a commander with access to a Bug fighter,> says Mike.
<Yes.>
<And the only way that can even happen is if her commander is a Yeerk, or has access to Yeerk tech.>
<Right.>
<But no
Yeerk militia would ever let an Andalite work for them, human
nothlit or not. No, not just an Andalite. A
free Andalite. Barring us, and we haven't exactly been successful in recruiting free Andalites, no Yeerk commander in his right mind would let a free Andalite work for them. They'd make sure she was infested.>
Corliss grins outwardly, looking down at the bar counter. <Bingo.>
<What if we're wrong?> Mike asks.
<Then we'll suffer some hurt pride. So what? She'll suffer a lot more, if she really is a Yeerk. Reckon someone will find out either way, if she stays here longer than a day or so.>
Corliss glances over at Terenia, not really wanting to bring up their little theory. Instead he decides that the safest place to feed would be amongst all of his friends, as well as in the presence of one of his deadliest enemies. Much better than feeding alone, and ironically much more vulnerable.
"Barkeep, can you set up one of those little tupperware pools of water, then? 96 degrees Fahrenheit, please." he asks politely, digging through his pockets. He sets out a little white packet, labeled, and a small, silver almost-sphere. It's flat on one end.
The bartender returns with a small plastic container filled with warm, clear water. He scribbles something on his notepad and shows it to Corliss.
"Would it be profitable to set one of these up permanently?" the paper asks.
"Nah, I reckon we much prefer it this way, anyway, a permanent setup is much easier to sabotage," Corliss replies. The bartender looks crestfallen and turns back to drying a glass.
He tears the packet open and pours the silvery, gritty contents into the warm water, mixing it around with his pinky finger. It takes a few moments, but the water ends up looking like an oily combination of sludgy grey swamp water and molten lead. He presses the single use Kandrona wave/particle generator on and sets it into the little pool, altogether no larger than a couple of feet across.
Corliss narrows his eyes at Keshin and Terenia, overly dramatic. He looks at Morgan, Zoshonel, Parker and Ossanlin. "'ey, if any of these jerks try to kill me or Mike while I'm indisposed, would ya hurt them for me? Thanks."
The bar counter is already humming with the static electricity of the little Kandrona generator. It would be soothing, if it wasn't making people's hair frizz up.
<You're insane, did you know that?> Mike states plainly.
<You only just found this out?> Corliss laughs, tilting Mike's head sideways and disengaging from his brain. Slowly his grey-green flesh slithers into the little pool, where he congeals back into his sluglike form and starts shooting about, bumping into the plastic walls and sliding against them.
Mike sits back, rubbing his ear with the bartender's dish towel. "Gah, he really needs to stop drinking on an empty stomach," Mike slurs, handing the towel back to the bartender.
((Wow, uber long post XD))
