Almost tripping at the sound of her name, in his voice, Kylah girds herself before turning to face Darren Zweller. But seeing him so close, so insinuatingly smug, eradicates her composure and turns her into a sort of frightened, spellbound statue.
She does not even understand why she is so afraid; he can do nothing to her, he holds no power over her. And yet she is in a frozen trance while staring up at this man she has not seen for two years.
...Except she has seen him, in a way. He has been lurking in her thoughts for two days. Unexpressed, unexplained, and even unaccepted by her consciousness.
"I hoped I had imagined you," she whispers, staring ahead. Her words are as hushed as they were with Collins. "I do not understand. How... how are you here? How long have you been on the ship? You could not have been here before I joined, I would have sen--" She cuts herself off. She cannot explain that she would have felt his hostility if he had been anywhere near her.
Kylah tries to catch her breath before continuing. "And what do you mean, 'seeing so much of me'? We have not met until..." Belatedly she suspects him of a double entendre, and hurries to hug herself to hide her cleavage and neck. Her fingers hold onto her shoulders as if her arms are a shield.
A swell of deja vu tangles her thoughts. The conversation seems familiar. Suddenly she is overcome by a moment of vertigo. In her mind's eye she pictures herself falling into his arms as he holds her, clutches her to him, then lifts her up...
She struggles to get control. A trembling hand reaches up to her forehead, massaging it. That never happened! I threw my knife, he ran from my dorm room. What is happening? Zweller is still grinning down at her, and she wants to slap him. "Stop smirking at me and tell me what you are doing here!" Her flashing eyes shift to the corner where she saw him earlier. "And how do you know Lt. Ferguson?"