Human bodies were complex. The cold had been weakening her, but it had also been reducing her fever. By the time the girl's core temperature had stabilized, her fever had risen enough to get the attention of the Urgent Care practitioner assigned to triage the cases, but Chris was no longer certain that a consultation with a doctor was needed.

The warm broth he'd given her had stayed down, her congestion seemed to have eased in the steam from the warm bath, and while her fever was high she seemed to have fallen asleep rather than passing out. But he also knew that his own medical knowledge was both shallow and a century out of date, so he waited in the consultation queue anyway.

Her bath had presented a number of other pressing mundane problems as well. He had washed up, started a load of laundry, and then rustled through Mac's possessions quite invasively, without finding much of any clothing suitable for either himself or the girl. She was currently wrapped in an old bathrobe beneath the covers, while he wore a pair of frayed boxers that the elastic had given out in and an elderly dressing gown that was much too small for his current frame.

He could have adjusted his form to suit the available clothing of course, but that would probably cause both the girl, Anne, and Mac even more distress. It would also use more energy, and he was already quite hungry. Which was the next moderately urgent problem.

Mac's cupboards contained plenty of dry and canned goods, and by the dates on a lot of the packages, had contained them for quite some time. He could feed Anne well enough, although fresh citrus and greens would be beneficial, but there was nothing for him to eat here. The screen in his hands flashed, and the Urgent Care video consultation finally connected.

Many of the questions that he'd prepared lies for weren't asked. The doctor didn't bother with history or relations, he was obviously tired, and wanted to keep things quick and concise. He did have to wake Anne to answer a handful of questions on her own, but he suspected that those were simply so that the doctor could judge how severely disoriented her fever was making her.

After giving recommended doses for a few over the counter medicines, signing for a necessary goods quarantine trip permit, and telling him to take her to the hospital if her fever rose another two degrees or stayed this high for more than four days, the doctor wasted a moment to add, "You've done well." The entire consultation had taken less than five minutes.

Chris stared at the web page that announced the call was over and linked him to the permit for one adult. After a moment he clicked the link. Permission to be on the street was all very well, but the store would want money, and the permit wanted identification numbers for the adult in question. He got up and checked Mac's medicine cabinet, and was relieved to find that there were at least a few doses of two of the listed medications present.

He roused Anne again to give her a dose of each, and watched her avoid ever looking at him with consternation. Her hands gripped the covers tightly. She was obviously afraid of him.

"Should I try to find a woman to take care of you instead?" he offered after a moment. He could use the four hours until her next dose to find some kind of food and reshape himself.

"What?" she asked blankly and glanced at him, before quickly turning her face away. "Oh. No, don't. I don't want to risk even more people getting sick."

"Okay," he agreed. After a moment of hesitation, he left it at that.

Some people rolled with everything life threw at them and met every new face with courage. Others were more like wild animals, who waited cautiously for you to prove that you could be trusted, and fled if you startled them. Most fell somewhere in-between.

He used Mac's iPad to look up the food handler's permit he'd need to apply for the job that Bobby had suggested, and discovered more complications. Proof of up to date vaccinations would be required in addition to proof of identity. If many certifications required such proofs, then it wasn't just 'Chris', 'Gregory's' nephew 'Norris' was going to have problems in a few years too.

He hadn't really cared about the 'loss of privacy' that people complained of in the modern era. The conveniences more than made up for it in his eyes, but it was getting more and more complicated to create a false identity, as more and more records were instantly available and permanently stored where a simple fire couldn't touch them. He could start his new life as an infant of course, but then he would have to risk having family or caretakers discover that he wasn't actually human.

The author's content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

He looked for other 'essential services' jobs, and discovered that even the 'worst' jobs, like waste disposal were currently in very high demand, and that each seemed to require additional certifications of one sort or another. Heavy equipment, health, the list went on and on. Every real online job seemed to be filled as soon as it was posted as well.

An advertisement for protection against identity theft caught his eye, and he grimaced. Anne, the most obvious target, hadn't carried a wallet or any identification either. In her case, it had probably been stolen, because she spoke like a native to the region. Mac was in his eighties, too old to get a job in normal circumstances, let alone in the current competitive environment.

He mentally reviewed the few younger acquaintances he'd had as Gregory. Most of them had been friends in online games, sprinkled with a few cashiers and waitpersons. They were the kind of people who struggled to find and keep some form of decent employment at the best of times. He needed an enemy to steal from, but he hadn't really had any.

The door to the guest room creaked open, it probably hadn't been balanced properly or greased lately, and he looked up to see Anne tottering toward the bathroom. She didn't look at him, but she knew he was there, because she gave him a wide berth, so he stayed still and didn't speak.

After she finished her business and ventured out again, she asked nervously, "What are you doing?"

Chris looked up and considered her for a moment. She was still avoiding looking at him, mostly, but she glanced at him and pulled the bathrobe tighter. It just emphasised her shape instead of covering it more, but it seemed impolite to point that out.

Maybe she was afraid of him because he wasn't human. They hadn't talked about that, but even though she hadn't struggled against him after making her single comment of realization, it had to bother her. He didn't know if he should bring it up or not.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to pry," she apologized quietly and edged toward the guest room.

He protested quickly, "No, it's fine. Sorry, I was just trying to think of… I'm looking for a job."

She drew a sharp breath and turned to stare at him. Her stare didn't last long as she shifted her focus to something over his shoulder instead. She frowned and asked doubtfully, "You're looking for a job?"

"There aren't many available right now," he pointed out.

"But you're…" she began, but didn't finish her sentence.

After waiting a minute he made a decision and replied questioningly, "Not human? I still can't conjure money out of thin air." He didn't mention that he could steal some pretty easily. It would eventually result in other problems though.

Her gaze snapped back to his face and she shivered. "I thought that I… What are you?"

"Apparently I'm a very young dragon," he replied with more humor than he'd felt all day. "Your fever is pretty bad, you should get back in bed and stay warm."

"Apparently?" she asked blankly, without moving.

He decided that it was a bad time to mention that he'd been convinced that he was probably a very old vampire for the last few centuries. "That's what an old dragon told me recently," he assured her as he set the tablet down and stood up.

He was a little surprised that she didn't retreat when he walked over and put his arm around her, but she was busy squinting at his face with an intense look of concentration

"I don't… I just see water. When I look at you, or when I close my eyes. Water and branches. Do you ever see things like that?" she asked in a rush as he guided her back toward the guest room.

"No?" he replied uncertainly. "You see water when you look at me?"

"I, just, nevermind. Something's been wrong with my eyes for a long time," she said sadly, and pulled away from him to climb back into the bed on her own.

He stepped forward and tucked her in as though she were a younger child. She didn't look afraid now, she looked sad. "You don't happen to have any enemies do you?" he asked wryly.

The glass he'd left beside her was empty, so he picked it up, as she gazed up at him with wide eyes. Her expression hardened after a moment and she said, "Yeah, I do. Do you eat people?"

He almost dropped the glass, but he managed to catch it. "Not if I can help it," he replied warily. She looked disappointed, so he asked, "Do you happen to know their names, birthdates, and identification numbers?"

Anne's expression brightened. "There's only one that matters," she told him fiercely, "and I know all of his personal information better than he does!"

Chris blinked at her and said, "Ah."