Xant took the time to observe Jasmine as they made their way back to his quarters. Her entire posture had changed with the addition of the hardsuit. Where once she had walked carefully, cautiously even, she now took confident, casual strides. Sieglinde walked beside her, as Jasmine had done to him on their first tours so many weeks ago.

It was a moment of clarity for the researcher, the simple act of walking beside instead of behind. Occasionally Jasmine would look to her side, to ensure Sieglinde was still there and the dog always was.

Xant reflected, he had never turned around to ensure a companion was still behind him, he had always entrusted they would follow as they trusted him. There was no reason to check if they were still there, they either were or they were not following you in the first place. He wanted to ask, but that would require stopping to gather her complete attention and then they would lose more time toward meditation.

Jasmine’s head turned at every angle, searching the walls and floors, pausing before every hallway turn off, getting a bearing on her surroundings. Before she almost took a wrong turn.

“Jasmine,” Xant called as she confidently walked passed the hallway. “We need to take this corridor.” She spun around to face him, transferring all her weight to the comparatively tiny instep of a single foot, while the other lifted to the toe.

“Oh? But, I could have sworn the next hallway was the right one, (there’s no tile mark)”

She steadied back down to face him, Xant frowned curiously.

“Tile mark?”

“Yeah,” Jasmine began to explain while she was walking toward him. “I mean, without any signs this whole place is just white wall after white wall, I gotta look for some sort of landmark. I remembered that the elevator hallway had a small black scuff mark on the tile corner…”

Xant looked up at the wall beside them, the walls before him were imprinted with the elevator symbol, then his memory aided him once more.

“Ah, you cannot see ultraviolet, the elevator symbol is printed here.” He raised his hand to the wall. Jasmine stopped mere centimeters from the wall inspecting it, her eyes squinting.

“I… I can just see the line of paint, but it just a plain rectangle- ohhhhhhh, that’s how you can tell the difference between all the dataslates! They’re printed in a spectrum I can’t see. huh.”

When she pulled her attention from the wall her eyes rested on Xant, and she stopped. He looked at the shape of Jasmine’s eyes, the tiny pupils there in, it was a wonder she could see anything at all with such a narrow light intake. Often they were moving, constantly surveying the scenery around them, but now, they were firmly fixed on his own eyes. Perhaps she was analyzing his in the same manner.

At least, the thought that was the case until she suddenly turned her entire head away, and a strange burst of anxiety and warmth smacked him out of his thought process.

“So umm, the elevator is this way right? Might be better if you take the lead.” She replied, holding onto Sieglinde’s leash tighter. Xant found himself caught again, wanting to ask questions but being reminded of the time constraints.

“Yes it is,” He answered and began to motion down the hall but he stopped, compelled to look back. Jasmine’s eyes were firmly on the floor, not at Sieglinde or anything of significance.

The anxiety creeping back in.

“Jasmine, when we are back in my quarters we need to talk-”

Xant was hit with another burst, seemingly triggered out of the blue as her head shot up and she drew pale.

“Talk about what? (oh god he knows, he knows everything, stupid brain stop thinking about it)”

“Whatever it is that has you so worried about answering questions…” Xant walked forward yet again, back to a close speaking distance. “You were so happy to answer and to speak with me, this new development has me worried.”

“(YOU’RE WORRIED???!! HOW’D YOU THINK I FEEL??) I’m sorry,” her head spun, checking her surroundings again, “We can talk in your quarters…”

Xant again marveled at her duel thought process, how she was easily able to hide the distress in her voice compared to the quite clear agitation of her dominant frequency.

“Good,” he sighed “This way Jasmine, if you please.”