Spartan yet elegant, the den consisted of three irregularly shaped sofas around a splatter-shaped glass coffee table. Two tall windows nestled between bare bookshelves, looking out at the swirling, glowing surface of the shield. Dim lights glistened across the slick metallic or clear polymer surfaces.

My new acquaintances sat across from me, faces stoic, impassable, regarding me how I suppose the gods of old might have regarded the simple mortals cowering in temple corners. Every inch of me wanted to fidget; reason and pride demanded I not. I might have, but only a little.

“What makes you think…” Somewhere between their lack of reactions and my growing sense of feeling rather miniscule my question trailed off. They didn’t seem to mind.

I sat.

I sipped.

I thought about a lot of things, droids mostly, and impending abduction and/or disembowelment.

Acrylic and Fetus allowed the silence, seemed to enjoy it really, quietly, of course.

In the end, all I could say was, "Where do we start?