Number Three arches a cool brow at that farewell, as though she's neither impressed at his antics nor is he as amusingly above it all as he likes to think he is. But he's gone in about as much time as it takes her to make that expression.

Her neutrality, though, slides to a side almost as fast as the rip in space contorts itself back to normal, and she turns. Which is about as much time as Space gets. It's not entirely a regular thing. But it's been happening more and more. Everything shifting in the breadth of a second. Of something like not quite, but near seclusion.

All her silence and step-file to the line, warped suddenly in words shaped-sharp, if not to being thrown like daggers. The pressure places on more specific words that were though pinned points. "We do not have an address, and the Academy number is not working, so you should start explaining just whatever it is you seem to think is going on here."

Before she begins to list The Unfavorable Options.