"Sorry to disappoint," came the weir-woman's silky voice. "I have my orders. I'm sure that you and the Force can appreciate that."
The robes fell away to dust and showed flaxen flesh covered over by tiled scales in dusty rose and burnished bronze, freckled with obsidian chips. Her almond eyes glowed a warning yellow in the suddenly-harsh moon-light. She was garbed in a Tairen Coat, long at the leg and tight at the waist and breast. It fit her nicely and I looked her up-and-down as I stood there, trapped in this bubble force field.
"You can stop ogling me anytime," she hissed dangerously. "I am not a chunk of meat, sozssin gor akon!"
"I'm not quite done appreciating you yet. Besides, it doesn't sound as though you have the means to harm me." I smiled the merest wisp of a smile.
She took my shoulder and brought me up in the greatest Choprikan embrace that she could. "Maska! It has been so very long!" she answered.
She ran a hand down my back warmly. Indeed, I hadn't seen Bronwen in more than 2 Kyteks... 16 months around these parts. She was as beautiful as ever, and as dangerous.
"So what brought you to me? and why did you feel the need to make an escape like that?"
She squealed with delight. "You loved it, don't try and play the patsy now."
"You still don't know enough Earthen terms to use words like patsy. You need more practice."
She punched me in the side and I hunched slightly. It wasn't her hardest by far, but it wasn't light either. She had been through some things and had gotten stronger. I liked it.
"So?" I prompted.
She waved away the question, but answered it anyway, like she did so often, "It's Byanka. She is in trouble again."