[Lexa looks sharply down at the hand laid on her arm, a dark tint in her expression. Careful concentration relaxes her -- so she only yanks her arm away, as if burned. The flash of the empathy bond is brief, just a flicker of blue: Lexa's end is frustrated, annoyed, offended. Confused.
Whatever that was, she keeps her voice evenly measured.]
What is the purpose of this device, then, if not to warm objects?
[Yes, she comes from the future. No, hers did not have microwaves.]
no subject
Whatever that was, she keeps her voice evenly measured.]
What is the purpose of this device, then, if not to warm objects?
[Yes, she comes from the future. No, hers did not have microwaves.]