Ryne had already gone to her workspace, and was busy at the drafting table. She’d attached a sign to the back of her chair, one she’d probably been waiting to use for awhile. Are you on fire? Is the Hive, Symmetry, or a god trying to eat you at this exact moment? Did the sun explode? If no, let me work. If yes, why are you bothering me? Deal with that. It seems serious.
