She paused another moment, then finally yanked the labcoat on and followed Genma's example, sliding the goggles into an oversized pocket. Armed with her cup of coffee, she stepped warily into the room.

Chemical smell hit her like a blunt force, a wall of unnatural scents reminiscent of oils and weapons, burned blood and the lung-choking odor of charred Teflon. A riot of smell that she couldn't quite sift through--too many scents she was unfamiliar with to identify which were dangerous. Of course, that was easily answered: all of them. She found a low growl trying to ease its way up her chest, and forced it down.

Instinct said to remain aware. She fought it, lifting her coffee and inhaling the rich darkness of over-roasted beans instead.

The window he was heading toward showed yet more halls. Not a speck of natural light in spitting distance. Tsume reached his station, started to lean against a table, straightened quickly and leaned against the wall instead. "So, how's this work?" she asked warily. "You just give me things and I smell them?"