“For the record,” Eighth Sister said as calmly as she could with her frill extended as far as it would go in a display she could only pray the human didn’t recognize as scornful disbelief.
“For what record?” The human sitting across the table from her demanded.
His outer membrane was flush with toxin signals and his pheromone cloud was awash with horrid indicators of the internal torment his digestive system was going through. For once in her career Eight Sister regretted that human biosignals were so easy to translate.
“The medical record,” Eighth Sister said, forcing her frill to lay flat. “The one your superiors are paying me to keep. The one that you yourself said was a, and I quote, “Crackerjack-“
“Don’t quote my words back to me,” snapped the human, slumping in a way that should not have been possible for a creature with a calciferous endoskeleton.
“Very well,” Eighth Sister agreed.
She reminded herself that the digestion impeded human was suffering far more than she was and deserved sympathy. Even if, as she suspected, his suffering was entirely his own doing.
“Now when you submitted your specific dietary needs to the base you indicated that you had a dangerous learned immune response to what common human foods?” She asked.
“Gluten, mammalian lactation, and yeast by-products,” the human muttered with a sigh.
“And what product did you specifically order from the non-essential foodstuffs merchant?” She asked.
“Chocolate éclairs,” the human said in a still lower voice.
“And did you personally eat these non-essential foodstuffs?” She asked.
“I bloody well did!” Snapped the human. “For the record you know.”
“And what are the primary ingredients of these non-essential foodstuff?” She pressed on deciding to ignore the outburst.
“Sugar,” he began, “and chocolate, and baking soda, and baking powder, and water …”
“And?” She pressed.
“Milk, gluten, and yeast,” he muttered, somehow managing to slump even lower in his seat all the while maintaining a steady resentful glare at a point right in-between her eyes.
She waited for him to continue, to offer some explanation, but he only glared at her defiantly until she let her frill droop and gestured at the door.
As he stood his gastro system release a cloud of foul waste product and he flushed in embarrassment before hurrying out of the room. Eighth Sister clamped down her frill and wondered if she could get a transfer.