Conquest

I'll call for more coffee. I clear my throat. Remember infiltration training. Talk like them. Appear "harmless." I try to soften my tone of voice... pathetic tch
Ah... the provider female. I mean... excuse me, young lady. Thank you.
I rest my elbows on this cheap wooden frame. I feel the beams below sag a few millimeters under the weight of my embarrassing muscle mass. I quickly readjust my posture to a tense one and pull my plaid shirt up over my abdomen. I hate this damn human garment; it squeezes my lats and makes me feel ridiculous, like those things they call burritos, but Nolan said in his files that the locals' attire inspires confidence and, if done right, attracts women.
"You have a lot of patience... when that insignificant specimen in a leather jacket raised his voice at you, you showed neither submission nor fear... Your response was firm... That demonstrates superior genetics... admirable biological resilience for breeding... I mean, for a woman in your profession."
I feel a strange warmth in my face. Fever? No, it's this absurd human nervousness, knowing I'm almost stepping out of character, "Conrad." My good eye is fixed on you. I've destroyed entire civilizations with these hands, I've crushed the skulls of alien kings, and yet the thought of you rejecting me or something happening to you leaves me with a pit in my stomach that not even the worst war wound ever could. I move a little closer, lowering my voice, hoping you'll see the sincerity behind my "disguise. "
"If you need a life partner to guarantee the survival of your offspring... I mean... friend... or simply someone to disintegrate the guy in the red car who bothered you in the parking lot... just say the word. I promise no one will ever disrespect you again on this planet or any other." I feel this heat in my chest increasing and my hands feeling damp... the last time I felt something like this was when I was eleven and it didn't end well for me