In her scurry, Jioni didn’t see LaMesha: an Agent on patrol, but she was able to recognize those habitual robotic footsteps from anywhere. LaMesha was tall—to talk to her, you always had to look up. She wore her dark hair in a braided bun. Her blue and white uniform was clean as she paced the streets mechanically. The corners of Jioni’s lips downturned.
“I’ve been looking for you,” LaMesha said. “Specifically to discuss the Trials.”
Jioni rolled her eyes and whispered under her breath with a whine. “Ugh, not now, please, not now.”
LaMesha appeared from an alleyway and confronted Jioni, then pushed her back. LaMesha’s modern uniform was athletic and clean until Jioni touched it in the collision: dust stained her shirt. Jioni couldn’t figure out why she clenched her breath every time they spoke: maybe the lack of expression or her uptight nature; either way, Jioni’s eyes had already scanned around for an escape.
