Mixed Media. 2.7 metres x 1.65 metres x 1.1 metres.

“Kinaesthetic senses are the senses of position and movement of the body, senses we are aware of only on introspection.”

Instinct.

“They’re fused together,” she can hear the bartender speaking quietly from across the open air enclave. “Not literally. Not all the time. But in every other way imaginable. It’s a kinaesthetic link.”

The skin on the back of her neck prickles. Lower back fur starts to stand on end. One of them snarls, she can't tell which. The distinction stopped mattering cycles ago.

“Stop staring. They can feel it.”

Two glasses of deep blue liquid clink as they're placed onto the counter.

“You have to abide by the rules here. No room for error. One strike and you’re off this planet. No appeals. You can’t reapply. Not since the 5000’s.”

The guest nods quickly, sipping the first blue drink as he picks up the second.

“This one’s for her.”

The bartender smirks, sliding over to the next customer.

“Braver than you look.”

The conversation is over.

The guest begins to approach her, unaware that she has already processed this conversation from across the rock. She can hear the three, no, four ice cubes in the glass brought for her. She can smell that it’s the liquid she doesn’t like. Can almost taste the thin layer of salt on the guest’s forehead.

They turn their heads towards him simultaneously. Four eyes. Two human, two feline. Linked by a shared sensory feed, comfortable seeing through each other. Both staring at this undecided target. A rough tongue licks an upper fang.

The guest stands by warily, eyeing the large panther sitting in front of this long-limbed, part-metal woman. The animal’s metal underbelly is exposed, polished alloy glinting in the low light. Thin seams run beneath its fur where machine meets muscle.

“You probably heard me coming halfway from the bar, huh?” He feigns nonchalance.

The panther's ears twitch. She can smell the sharp stench of his heightened cortisol. They blink at him together. Four unimpressed eyelids.

“That liquid is for guests. I don’t drink it.”

“Oh. I can get you another?”

The panther yawns, showing fangs and titanium joints, as Kyntha flicks a braid over her shoulder. They stand with the same movement, a symbiotic system. Others nearby shift aside, giving them space to pass.

Walking away, they absentmindedly sample the guest’s scent. Sweat. Trace minerals from another atmosphere. The planet he came from. The pain he left behind.

“Ask for Kyntha’s liquid next time. With less ice.”

She smiles at the guest with her eyes only, over her shoulder. The guest smiles with his whole face and nods quickly.

The panther’s tail flicks as they move through the parting crowd.

Outside, she mounts the panther whilst it reconfigures into transportation mode. Plates shifting and locking into place beneath her, she feels the guest’s eyes on the back of her neck again.

She emits a thick signal pulse through the air, jerking his head aside and moving the gaze away from her. The guest’s shock seeps into the atmosphere. Their tongues taste it together as they pick up speed.