Ecks stands staring at herself in a full-length mirror at one end of the ballroom. Gone are her weapons, which is...regrettable. Dangerous, in such an unfamiliar place, though there is no overt sign of danger as yet and she at least remains confident in her ability to dodge or flee any attacker. Her stitches remain, though her skin is all over green as if she got halfway through imitating Mazon's appearance, and try as she might she can't make the change in the mind's eye to smooth it out. She doesn't mind the color itself, but it is troubling to find herself unable to use the young psion's gift to her so soon after receiving it.

What she can't figure out is why there should be bolts attached to her neck, or why her armor has been changed out for a black suit with impractically heavy boots. The bolts serve no purpose that she can observe, and they do not seem to be attached any deeper than at skin level.

"I don't get it," she finally admits out loud to no one in particular. Then, looking down, she adds somewhat resentfully, "And I don't like these boots."