![]() He shook Capricorn’s hand, leaning in close to say something, one or two words. ![]() I would have taken him for homeless, going by the skin, hair, and the natural angry-at-the-world glower, but his clothes were nice, tailored well to his frame. Dark brown spots flecked already deep brown, damaged skin. ![]() Hamza was a big guy, maybe eighty pounds heavier than Gary Nieves, bald at the top with hair only at the sides and back of his head, a thick beard and thick eyebrows that were shot through with white. Hamza Kouri and John Combs walked behind Lynn to greet us while Lynn talked. ![]() “Breakthrough is an up and coming team, credited with identifying the threat to the inter-world portals and helping to save one of them…” We didn’t have the benefit of speakers, and she didn’t do the talk-show thing of waiting for the applause to die down, gesturing and smiling all the while. With the applause dying down, I could hear her talking. She would have looked severe, if it weren’t for her expression and the animation in her eyes, a smile natural on her lips. Black hair in a bun, bangs straight across the forehead, black suit jacket, a light blue silky top that cut straight across her cleavage, black skirt. A woman at the front of this particular triumvirate- Lynn Chess. The three hosts were standing in the center of the stage, in front of the arrangement of table and chairs. The audience was easy to lose track of, as the lights were directed our way, a brightness I had to look past. The audience were nebulous shapes, an audience manager with her back to us keeping everything in order. ![]() All light was reserved for the stage four fifths of the expansive room was dark. Our applause was like most of the applause at a golf match- far from uproarious, provided by expectation, not by free will. ![]()
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