“… but this can’t possibly be one sentence.”
Sentence in question:
It didn’t look like they were going to ask about her complexion anyway, judging how Jacobs had taken one look at her floating in the tank and swung about to face the General who brought up the rear while Gregori’s eyebrows climbed halfway up his forehead.
I read that aloud and it worked–if I took a breath half-way–but just, no. So, with the help of the boyfriend, it got cut into this:
It didn’t look like they were going to ask about her complexion anyway; Jacobs took one look at her floating in the tank, and swung about to face the General behind him. Gregori’s eyebrows had climbed halfway up his forehead, but he was letting his captain do the asking.
Run-on sentences were the bane of my existence when I was fourteen. They still crop up occasionally, even after I’ve been infected by one word sentences. Really.
Funny how semi-colons work.