Shelly pulled up the system interface, holographic screens blooming around her like petals.
[But there's no way the favorability could've lied.] She pointed at the numbers, which glowed brightly. [It jumped this much for nothing? Something must've happened, Host.]
Neville's jaw tightened. He knew she was right—something had happened— but with no memory to support it, what could he even do?
"Don't dwell on it too much," he said, voice low. "Let's just get back to the topic, shall we? The system shut down."
Shelly frowned, gears in her little head whirring.
[But Host, it doesn't add up. Your body was drenched in drugged wine. Some of it must've been absorbed through your skin. In theory… You should've gone into a pseudo-heat.]
She flicked open a secondary panel, scrolling fast through the purchasing history.
[And there's no record of you purchasing extra inhibitors. Just those earlier doses you administered before the mission.]
