"I cannot explain it," Althea shrugged, keeping up her lie fluidly. "Maybe it's because I suspected they were up to something already, so when I entered the exotic plane, my senses were heightened."
The Emissary stared at her with a blank, unreadable gaze, as if he was lost in thought. It made it hard to tell whether he believed her or not.
Then abruptly, he turned his head to Finn and asked:
"What about you, Finnegan Slade? What did you feel after entering the plane—?"
"...not Finnegan." A gritty, disgruntled rasp escaped Finn's lips.
"What was that?"
Finn quickly caught himself and cleared his throat, leveling his gaze with the Emissary's. "It's Finn, not Finnegan…"
The Preceptor, who was content to watch from where he sat at the head of the table on the other end, frowned slightly. He observed Finn with more scrutiny and deliberation. He had picked up on the fact that Finn's debts were resurfacing yet again.
