and went back to the report he'd been reading. He turned a page and then, out of morbid curiosity, looked up again.
Half a dozen people were now watching him. They weren't all Humans: there was a Minbari in the group, and a Drazi. And there was no doubt now that they were looking straight at him, as if he had become a subject of incredible interest.
"I'm sorry ... is there something I can do for you?" he asked.
Nothing. Not so much as a word.
Perhaps they were from some sort of... of odd tour group or something. He decided, though, that whatever the reason, it was clearly their problem and not his. He had his own matters to attend to, and if they wanted to stand there until their heads fell off, they were welcome to do so.
Considering that it appeared to Morishi that they were trying to commit every aspect of his features to memory, he muttered, "Why don't you take a picture? It'll last longer...."
He turned another page, and one after that, and then realized that he hadn't read either one. That's how distracted and rattled he had become. He decided to say something to the rude people, to tell them that they should either say what's on their minds, or go the hell away. To his shock, though, a half dozen more had joined them, bringing his personal cheering section to an even dozen.
How long is this going to continue? Morishi asked himself, and then-unexpectedly-the unspoken question was answered. A man stepped forward, a very scruffy individual whom Morishi did not recognize.
The scruffy individual spoke. And he said the same words that he had said much earlier that morning, except this time he spoke with quiet confidence, comprehending the words now, understanding everything. In his twangy voice, Deuce said, "You're not moving fast enough. You have