Only silence greeted those statements. Pre-programmed responses allowed for it and, to some degree, social inexperience even encouraged it, beyond a certain conversational point. There was only an unquestioning stare and that same unchanging smile. If anything, one could be forgiven for wondering if she might be some extraterrestrial praying mantis in disguise, such was Elizabeth's unwavering focus; like she was waiting for someone to move before striking out with dagger-like appendages and rip their head off.
Recalculation, reclassification, recalculation, reclassification... Nothing gave away the mental flurry of internal diagnostics, as everything, from body language to heart rate and pupil dilation, was constantly analysed for cues on how best to proceed. Termination probabilities rose and fell from one microsecond to the next, competing with the drive to maintain an illusionary cover of harmlessness.
Then her hand was accepted. She had been accepted.
"I understand. I'm new," was all she responded with. Not too different from a child's attempt to appease a grown-up. "I just need time to trust."
But to observe the human mannerism of shaking hands and actually partake of it were two very different things. What Steve next felt was a very, very strong grip and a shaking gesture to match. Not stiff, but oddly powerful. An unintentional give away.
"We're lost," observed the visitor and smoothly turned, heading back to the stairs. "I'll provide the map."