"You're not allergic to dust, are you?" you ask, eyeing the gray speck from the safety of the capsule. A tremor runs through Miss Hensley's nose, and you wonder if it counts as an answer to your question. A few seconds later, your partner finally responds.
"I'm not, but... But I do feel a bit of an itch in there."
"Alright," you reply, moving to exit the capsule. "Tell me about our target, that'll take your mind off of it."
"Let's see," Miss Hensley begins, recalling the details from memory. "Stephanie Gamell, eighteen year old high school senior. It's a good thing we managed to get to this point now. Once she goes off to university, I don't know if we'd have any way to get into her father's residence. I'll be honest with you: we don't even know if she still lives with him now. This is just our best shot."
"I understand," you acknowledge as you step out of the capsule. The suction of Miss Hensley's breath very nearly carries you off into her lungs, but you manage to hold on. The trapped dust isn't too far away, but even the short distance will be perilous to cross. You very nearly fall as you take your next step: the ground is simultaneously squishy and slippery. Grabbing on to a nearby nose hair, you manage to steady yourself. The dust is almost in reach...
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