Pebbles slowly rotated upside down in front of her again, using his tentacles for emphasis.
Who had programmed this thing?...
Pebbles: "Host, the probability of an assassination attempt was already at eighty percent before your cultivation adjustment."
"Eighty percent?", Mirabelle practically spat out the words.
Startled, Silas turned toward her:
"What?"
Mirabelle, who had only just started walking again, came to another abrupt stop.
She squeezed her eyes shut, released Silas's hand, and pinched the bridge of her nose.
Her ears flattened against her head and her tail twitched back and forth in agitation.
"Sorry. I think I need a little time alone to sort out my thoughts. Is that okay?"
The panther studied her for a moment with thoughtful yellow eyes. Then he smiled.
"Of course."
He pressed a kiss against her forehead. One shadow tentacle gently brushed her cheek.
Then he was gone.
