Argent is watching me, evaluating, probably wondering how long it’s going to take the Lone Star dork to get his legs back under him. I steeple my fingers in front of my face, pressing the palms together to still the shakes. Unmodified eyes wouldn’t spot it, but my state of mind is probably blatant as all drek to the runner’s modified optics. I take a deep breath, then exhale fully, trying to blow the tension out of my chest and the fog from my mind. "Maybe I’m just out of touch," I say as levelly as I can, "but I didn’t know the Star even had a Military Liaison Division."