[the one PM's pointing at drifts up to hover at the Prospitian's eye-level, but remains close to Felicia's body. She glances at it, then back at PM, and, dubious understanding slowly dawning on the still-human part of her face, she clips her communicator back on.]
My mechadendrites? Is that what you meant by, er, 'worms'?
Well, as far as the menial labor—yes, a bit, I suppose. But not very much. I hadn't the foresight to install gardening equipment onto them before being captured.
[taking a step towards PM, she summons the barest hint of a smile]
I'm Magos Felicia Tayber. I don't believe we've met.