His social skills were almost non-existent. Most of his life he’d spent training for his Order, far away from his own society. He didn’t know why he had been chosen for this mission, but an order had to be obeyed. So, here he was, stuck, observing a human female, in a tatty, old bookshop. Chance wondered why Bea had looked uncomfortable at seeing him. Did she know what he was? One thing was for sure, he had to adapt, and quickly, look normal, like one of them, so not to arouse any suspicion.
He walked over to the coffee machine, but the contraption was alien to him and he quickly decided against getting a drink. As Chance paced the nook, he felt more and more restricted by the clothes he was given to wear after his arrival. They were too tight, stuffy, compared to his usual attire: loose, natural fabrics that moved when he did – more useful and fluid for combat. He pulled at the collar of his shirt and two buttons pinged off in different directions. He gritted his teeth and quietly grunted. His normal, self-controlled demeanour was going to be tested in this realm for sure.