As I previously wrote, human personality is variable in the extreme, we all know that evolution loves variation, but it is in human personality and neurodivergence that this is most obvious. Humans are sometimes hard for aliens to distinguish for me, as an alien, I don’t look for the same features. Tall ones are adults, smaller ones are children, some are darker skinned and some are lighter. If it weren’t for their strong difference in smells it would be much harder for me until I get to know someone well.

But that diversity of thought patterns, that ‘personality’ is a dead giveaway. They vary so broadly that each individual human is very much like a different species from every other human, or so it sometimes seems. All of a sudden, it seemed I had ‘my’ humans. And then there were ‘other’ humans.

The species can be somewhat tribal, and it wasn’t lost on me that this tribalism was something I had, with disturbing swiftness, found myself embracing.

“You’re going to need to stay here and explain this.” The male security guard explained, he was breathing hard, his mouth agape at his injured ‘colleague’. I use that term with hesitation because it seemed clear to me that neither he nor the one treating the injured failed human was much concerned with the pain he was in.

While the female worked, I listened and waited for William and what I presume was some form of administrator came closer. “You finally went and did it, you went too far, dumbass. I didn’t think it would be a freaking alien that bit back. Stupid SOB. Quit whining and hold still, god knows what kind of bacteria an alien mouth might have, might be fine, might die, might be you get some stupid superpower and really get to be a werewolf.”

I doubted very much that he really understood most of what she said to him. He wailed and cried, snot running out of his nose and his body flailed around, flopping like a fish out of water, desperate to get back to its natural home that was just out of reach.

I was fairly sure the guard was joking about that last part, and trying to induce fear in her ‘patient’ with the second part. But what interested me was that she spoke of him as if he’d done this kind of thing before.

The cries of ‘shoot the dog’ were gone finally, I suppose he realized it wasn’t going to happen and he fell into dejected sobbing. I, for my part, said nothing. Fauve began explaining things to her father, and William leveled an accusing finger at the injured employee. “That’s the guy my wife said was hanging out around the women’s rooms. He’s the one I came to complain about!”

William’s voice went up several levels while he pointed, and the ticket taker went pale as if he knew he’d been caught. Human physiology is interesting, they can mostly keep their mouths shut when they really want to, but their basic biology makes some of their more serious lies harder to keep quiet if you know what to look for. In human novels, someone confronted with something horrific in some personal way is almost always described as having ‘the blood drain from their face’. I always took this to be alliteration.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

It turns out it was literal.

The onlookers and their camera phones weren’t especially quiet either, one among them, hearing William’s statement, echoed it. “I complained about him a month ago when I brought my daughter here! The creeper kept following her around the park and drooling at her.”

It would have been really convenient if there were more echoed sentiments from the crowd, I knew something of human law thanks to my preparations for my visit. I was no expert, but as I stood there panting and looked down to see the bits of blood at my feet, I was glad to know I had yet another witness of some sort.

“Are you OK, Fauve?” William asked and went to hug his daughter, his arms engulfed her and he kissed the top of her head, “He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

When it came to neurodivergence, Fauve was exceptional, even with only a short time among humans, I knew that for sure. She didn’t miss a beat. “I’m fine, dadu, just fine. Bailey got him.”

“You’re all goin to jail! My dad owns this park!” The ticket taker said through his sobs.

I will admit I was concerned when I heard this, humans with money are humans with power, it isn’t unheard of for the very rich to buy their way free of the consequences of their actions. Or to take advantage of their wealth to support people who they frankly shouldn’t, this is especially true when it comes to the ties of family. Tribalism often extends even among humanity’s worst elements.

This was clearly an example, and from the sour faces the two security guards made, puckered lips and steady glares, they knew it too, and knew that this particular ‘colleague’ of theirs had played the ‘rich father’ card quite a few times.

When the lawful authorities showed up, I regret to say in this narrative that I recall very little. It was such a blur of activity. I remember the click of the handcuffs on my wrists and the feel of the cold steel through my soaked fur, and the little trembling in the hands of the one who put them on. But I recall neither their name, nor face, nor expression. Though I must have at least gotten a look at them. The blaring noise of an ambulance stopped and I saw… I still did not know his name, I never wanted to learn it, so from now on I will simply refer to him by the moniker of ‘Wolfbeard’ given… everything, but I saw him put onto a stretcher and strapped down.

He was still clutching his arm and his moans became even more dramatic and movements more exaggerated, the paramedics at the stretcher grunted, groaned, and struggled to lift him up to carry him out. The process was slow, he weighed enough that they could properly wheel him away on their stretcher until they both pushed from at his feet.

I remember frenzied words and William’s wild, gesticulated shouting while the officers questioned him, Fauve, and other witnesses, and I remember the feel of the seat of the police car when I slid into the back seat.

As the car rolled away I could see William still shouting behind us, but in my mental state at the time, I couldn’t hear him, or perhaps I heard and just can’t remember. What I do remember thinking was, ‘I hope human jails aren’t like they’re shown to be in their fictions.’