As she walked down the row of cells the prisioners went toe to force field in their cells. They were sizing up the new cat in town.
The "officer" was in a cell with a few others. They acted much the same way as the others, except that they purposefully stood infront of their officer. Keeping him from direct view. The voulme of the room got steadily rose as she reached the last cell... with the officer. They stood there for a long moment staring at her cocking their heads to the sides. Trying to get a wif of her. The sterile air handling systems and the force field doors prevented such a luxury. The two were parted by the officer with a paw like hand on their shoulders. He stood a step back from them, but stared squarely back at her. As they locked gazes, the croud grew more anxious. They were definately showing a pack mentality. Raising up their voices- nothing that would qualify as words- in support of their leader. She gazed at him coolly, sizing him up as he was doing to her. She sensed they wanted a fight, and he was considered their champion. Perhaps this was how they settled disputes, as Klingons did. Her background would come in very handy. But this was not what she wanted just then. <[Are you going to come out peacefully so we can talk, or do I have to have your people stunned to remove you?]> she asked above the din. Part of her wanted to fight him, to make him pay for the deaths he and his people had caused, but she was wearing a Starfleet uniform, and that was something she could not do. (resp?)
