Eve glowers at the green panel as if it has personally offended her. She raises a hand, knife-tipped fingers flexing. “That doesn’t narrow it down,” she says snippily.
The cyborg taps the panel experimentally to see if it does anything. Immediately losing patience she follows it up by tracing a finger around the edge, looking for any internals to manipulate.
“Did you find anything else?” She asks Malaco, one eye swiveling to stare rigidly at him.