Now I'm sure, she thought, that he really tried to teleport me out of my hotel room. I wonder why he wanted to? Why should he want to kill me?
I'll have to keep an eye on him. But he's such a baby. He can't even control his emotions.
"Your clothing," she said, studying him with professional concern, "is all wrong. We'll just have to get some more. Some to fit your personality better. I'll do that tomorrow."
Anger crossed his face. He rubbed his hand over his knee and looked down at his trousers. "I like them," he said in a surly voice.
She was not afraid of him. She had no need to be. He was such an innocent!
Why, she thought, he doesn't seem to have any information to draw on hardly at all; he'll be harmless as long as I wish him so.
"I'm a Lyrian traitor, too," he said.
"You are?"
His accent. She could not remember any accent on Earth like that. He had not learned his English from an earthman. A Lyrian had taught him?
"What are you doing here?" he said.