Dalik glances at Myitt, frowning a little. Then she nods. "You've been listening to too much of your own propaganda, Ossanlin, if you believe the majority of Yeerks are abusive to their hosts."
She shakes her head. "First off, it's an absurd notion. Why would anyone want to share a head with someone who screams and carries on all day? It's incredibly distracting, not to mention depressing. True, the host has little say in their fate, but most of my people try to reach some sort of understanding with them." Her nose wrinkles as she turns to Jeffrey. "The Andalites would have you believe we whip our hosts like dogs and spend all day laughing as we replay their worst memories, forcing them to break to our wills."
Pushing away her empty lemonade glass, she waves a hand to push aside the holoscreens, evidently choosing to fully engage in the conversation. "The vast majority of Yeerks dread the day they are given a host. Huge quantities of us request pool-bound duties over infestation." She smiles, tilting her head at Ossanlin. "Did you know that? Most of my people would choose the pool over eyes any day. We are a peaceful race. The Empire is where the corruption lies."
William makes his way to the bar, but he doesn't order another ale. Instead, he slides his knife from his sheath, along with a small whetstone. Making no attempt to hide his eavesdropping, he settles onto a barstool, facing outward. His eyes flicker from the Andalite to the goat-like skeleton to the newcomer -- an enticingly feral looking creature speaking with Mercer.
"Gods this place is fascinating," he murmurs to himself, laughing quietly as he begins to sharpen his knife.