"Ah," Corliss says, nodding. "Well, I hardly think your sister being a voluntary Controller is your fault, Terenia. How could it be? It's her decision, regardless of the driving force behind it." He looks over at Efaen, smirking. "I'd remind you that my host Michael is also a 'true' voluntary Controller, if you want to use those terms, although he is fighting for his planet, rather than against it."
The door to the bar swings open and an fair skinned human woman with long, unkempt, frizzy brown hair strides quickly into the room, black boots squeaking wetly on the floor. She looks left and right, as if expecting something to come flying at her, but continues walking toward the bar, gently rolling up the sleeves of her sliced-up black trench. The woman has a cardboard box of cereal under her arm. Underneath the jacket she's wearing a faded, oil-stained green shirt with a picture of the state of Wisconsin, which reads, "Nothing tips like a cow". Her left arm has a gauze bandage wrapped around her elbow, and her lower right arm is almost totally bandaged up.
She stops near Corliss, glancing at her old friends, at Keshin, then at the two newcomers, and finally at the Andalite she remembers as Terenia. She also notices a very uncharacteristicall y angry-looking Zoshonel, wings flared.
"Alright, I got your damn cereal," Myitt snaps, setting the box of Australian Coco Pops on the bar counter in front of her sibling. "Why does your arm look like Swiss cheese?"
"It's fine, Myitt, don't worry about it," Corliss replies flatly.
"No, that's a Dracon wound. Who shot you?" she presses.
"It's fine, all right?"
