She drew a long, slow breath.
"Brule," she said.
"Yes?" said Brule. At the edge of her vision she saw the smile turn eager.
Trigger said, "Give me the plasmoid." She raised her eyes and looked at him. He'd stopped smiling.
Brule looked back at her a long time. At least it seemed a long time to Trigger. The smile suddenly returned.
"What's that supposed to mean?" he asked, almost plaintively. "If it's a joke, I don't get it."
"I just said," Trigger repeated carefully, "give me the plasmoid. The one you stole."
Brule took a swallow of his drink and put the glass down on the floor. "Aren't you feeling well?" he asked solicitously.
"Give me the plasmoid."
"Honestly, Trigger." He shook his head. He laughed. "What are you talking about?"