Hajin left the sofa with both hands jammed in his pockets, keeping the cloth off his sore wrapped palm.
Elise straightened beside the desk as though the sphere might explode from greeting another applicant who cracked furniture.
"Relax, I only break things that start fights with me," he drawled, tossing her a wink over his shoulder.
"The desk didn't start anything," she squeaked.
"It looked at me funny."
Sable watched the apparatus instead of him, her fingers creeping closer to the sword at her hip.
"Then keep your eyes off this one," she muttered.
Four needles guarded the sphere while its central filament drifted toward his hand like a hound smelling supper.
'A decent number opens doors, a crazy number brings every damn guild inspector knocking on mine.'
He rested his wrapped right palm against the sphere, and its sampling current crawled straight through the cloth.
