Mark limped into the observation center early in the morning, scowling at everyone whose gaze he could capture. Last night had been hard. Not only had he had to deal with the afternoon's revelation, but his aunt had asked what was wrong and he had to tell her just what sort of person Anne really was. Watching his friendly aunt's face harden with hatred hurt almost as much as the betrayal.

He just could not get past the fact that she had the gall to kill his cousin, cripple him, and then turn around and try to be his friend. Had she no shame? Did she think she would never get found out? Did she think that no one would care? Plants were born sociopaths, twisting the people around them like toys. He had been told that, had known it on an intellectual level, but seeing it for real, being one of the people she had played with still hit him hard in the gut. He caught himself clenching and unclenching his free hand, shaking with the need to hit something.

"Good morning, Mark," his boss greeted him, turning from the monitor to look at him. "How are you feeling?"

"I'll live."

"Good to hear, good to hear." He indicated the monitor. "It's been entirely inactive after awaking. Just sitting there, staring."

"That's nice."

"I must say, it's a bit puzzling. You were friends with this thing for how many years? And you never knew it's true nature? A bit inobservant of you."

"They are masters of deceit, sir."

"And you were trained to see beyond that."

"Respectfully, sir, so were you. But you hired her."

"True. And it has been a good worker. Not what you would expect from a plant."

"No sir."

"But still, it's a puzzle. To have been so close to her, and not even recognized her? The thing that did that to you," he waved at the cane, "and killed your cousin?"

"She has put on a bit of weight. She was skinnier than a boy when we were in the desert, and her hair was both shorter and darker. Now she's more," his hands indicated a curvaceous shape, "and she's nearly a blonde."

"But not entirely blonde, which is a bit of a puzzle. Plants are blondes; do you think it dies its hair?"

"She has no hair dye at her place."

"Ah yes. Her place. We have a team over there, looking it over, but you've been there. Anything that ever struck you as odd?"

"Nothing more than her lack of what one would call personal items. No pictures, no letters, no clutter. It's very neat, very simple. I would venture that it isn't a place she thinks of as home. She does tend to spend a lot of time here at work."

"Plants are very single minded. It was bred into them; it's no surprise it spent the majority of its time near its focus."

"But we could tear her away from work fairly easily, and she does have other interests, outside of work. Not what fits the profile."

"Other interests?"

"She sings, semi-professionally, in a blues band. Technically, she's not that precise, but she does a very good job of emoting. She could never make a living singing, and she knows that, but it's a fun hobby for her."

"Something as artistic as singing? That isn't in the profile."

"No sir, it's not. But it is her hobby."

"Interesting." He turned to look at the monitor. "It isn't being very entertaining at the moment though. Maybe we should go… prompt it to sing for us."

Mark kept silent, but moved to a place where he could see the monitor. Anne was sitting in the corner farthest from the door, arms wrapped tight around her knees, eyes staring sightlessly forward. A large bruise marred her face, the dull black traveling from temple to chin, a straight line. There were other marks, black and red and purple all over her body. Her left eye was bloodshot, both eyes red-rimmed. The tatters of her shirt barely covered her decently, but her legs were tight enough to her chest that the rents didn't matter. Her knuckles were white where they grasped her elbows, and her jaw was firmly set.

Mark fingered the head of his cane and smiled mirthlessly. He hoped to be send in to prompt her, but didn't ask. His boss knew how much this bitch owed him. Anything he said at this point would just be seen as whining.

"What did you tell your aunt?" The question wasn't entirely idle. The circle of people who knew that plants walked the surface of Gunsmoke was, by necessity, very small. If more people knew, you might get the soft-headed idiots agitating that plants were people, too, and deserved to live. Just one look at what she had done yesterday disproved that theory. Plants were dangerous, born dangerous, without conscience, feelings, or anything other than the drive to destroy. They were eerily intelligent, and could mimic human emotions in a fashion that could delude the simple-minded. Simply put, they were too powerful to be allowed to live.

"Only that she was one of the bandits that we had been sent out after, and that she was the one who had killed him. Nothing about her being a plant." It hurt a bit to be lying to his aunt, but that was her fault, too. If she hadn't misled them in the first place, he wouldn't have had to lie in turn.

"Good." The room was quiet for a few more minutes. "I think I shall send you in first. But… don't hit it. Let's see how far being it's friend can get us first."

Mark smiled grimly, his grip shifting slightly on his cane. He might walk in as a friend, but he would not be walking out again without having a bit more fun.