[Primarch. Angron. The former is common information, but the name of a traitor Primarch? Mita doesn't mind so much having line of sight on people, since she relies on her mind's senses - perhaps too often. But she turns around at that to properly address the stranger, and her blood runs cold (or hot?) as the broad-faced countenance of a space Marine stares back at her.] Space Marine? [She freezes for a second out of sheer surprise, then rationality takes over.]
Excuse me sire. My greatest apologies for addressing you so. [But she doesn't bow or scrape, only a slight faltering in her voice, which strengthens from then on.]
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[Primarch. Angron. The former is common information, but the name of a traitor Primarch? Mita doesn't mind so much having line of sight on people, since she relies on her mind's senses - perhaps too often. But she turns around at that to properly address the stranger, and her blood runs cold (or hot?) as the broad-faced countenance of a space Marine stares back at her.] Space Marine? [She freezes for a second out of sheer surprise, then rationality takes over.]
Excuse me sire. My greatest apologies for addressing you so. [But she doesn't bow or scrape, only a slight faltering in her voice, which strengthens from then on.]