Nessa and Jamison sat in silence, stunned from the mental link. A second, then two, passed. They readjusted, and Nessa coiled at a vague movement from the hallway. A light snapped on and flooded the hall.
“What-who’s in there?” she spoke into her implant.
“You can talk?”
“Translation app. Someone’s coming.”
Two figures emerged from the light. They stood twice Jamison’s height. Their faces registered. Nessa sat up and waved toward the two men. There was the brown man. Zane--she believed was his title--and Trevon, Jamison’s father.
Nessa grunted, and exaggerated the wave until Jamison stood up and looked over his shoulder.
“Kid, get out,” Zane snapped. “How’d you get in here? You ain’t supposed to be in here.”
Trevon stuck his hand out and said in a near whisper: “Zane, please. I’ll see he gets proper discipline when we get home.”
“Proper discipline?!” Zane demanded. “This is a crime. He’s gonna be doing time in juvey.”
“Except I’m not a kid,” Jamison said. “And I can’t go to juvey.”
Zane crossed his arms, a smirk pasted on his face.
“Not a kid?” he sneered.
“Zane, please,” Trevon said. “He’s my boy. He’s just got a thing with space right now. He’ll get over it. I’ll handle this when we get home--”
He bent down to eye level with Jamison.
“--I’ll handle this. When we get home.”
Nessa studied the translator application. She eyed Zane, who narrowed his eyes at her and sauntered into the hallway.