Mark watched Koen eat until he couldn't take it any more. "Seriously? You're really eating that stuff?"

"Drinking. It makes sense that spiders would like meat broth. Ha!" said Koen in realization. "Fed by spiders! I wish Laura was here so I could show her."

Mark was sure she'd hate it, but he said, "Good job with recognizing that thing's species. You've done your homework, I can tell."

"And I have a supply of protein." Koen swallowed his broth. "I bet I can get vegetables from the 'Furry Foods' people that Graa mentioned. If they are mammals like us, chances are good that we can eat the same sorts of plants. Better, anyway, than if we got plants from birds… or we can eat whatever Graa feeds to Mr. Grumbles." He frowned at the memory. "Maybe I can salvage last night after all."

And Mark got it.

He had automated the work so long ago that now it seemed to Mark that the knowledge just dropped into his head. Koen was scared of being unreliable.

With no need for conscious thought, Mark devised a test. "I'm thinking about last night. Maybe Laura did confess something to you," he said. "Or she was about to. The question is, did you show her that you were prepared to listen to her?"

Koen stiffened. His eyes met Mark's pupils huge in the dim, pendulum light. "What do you mean?"

Mark leaned back against his foam-tube and recalled the proper words. "Well, when someone shares a hurt, it's important for you to remember that this is about them and not you."

"Of course, but –"

Mark went on. "Don't share your story, don't question, don't judge, don't diminish, don't offer advice."

Koen looked around as if for help from the spider. "So what should I do then?"

Mark's face assumed the correct expression: eyebrows together, lower lids up, mouth in a sad, understanding smile.

"Just be there for her, Koen."

"But I was there. I sat there, but because I couldn't ask questions or offer advice or...or do anything…" Koen pushed out with his hands as if kneading dough. "I didn't do anything."

Mark narrowed his eyes at Koen. He felt for an attack, and wasn't sure if he found one. To buy himself time, he allowed a habit to run. "That must have made you feel useless."

Koen sagged. Useless. Exactly. Laura had come to him for help and he'd just sat there. She might as well have opened up her heart to an empty chair.

He didn't say any of that to Mark, but Mark saw it. So, he thought, that's what's Koen's afraid of. He stored the ammunition away, and smiled. It was time to reinforce Koen's behavior with a reward.

"You see what I did there? 'You must have felt blank.' That's an empathetic statement. That's what you can do in that situation."

Koen shook off his feeling of unbalance. "What, you tell the other person what they're feeling?"

"You show you're paying attention," Mark corrected. "You restate what the other person has shown you. That shows you're paying attention. You mirror them."

In the swinging red shadows above, the spider thought: amateur.

"It seems dishonest," said Koen.

Mark shrugged. "I know it seems awkward at first, but with practice it feels less artificial. And it works."

It worked just now.

Mark and Koen shared the thought. A mirror faced a mirror, and reflected a corridor between them of infinite distance.

Koen was the first to put the reflection aside. He focused on the practicalities."Okay. What else?"

"What other techniques are there for listening? The first is really listen. Make it clear from your body language and your responses that the most important thing to you is her story." Mark demonstrated, leaning forward, making eye contact.

"Of course it is."

"But don't just think it. Show it. Don't ask yes or no questions. Don't interrupt. Control your own emotional reaction. Don't burst out laughing or crying."

"That's more sitting there like a lump. Don't tell me what I shouldn't do."

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

"Hey, who's coming to whom for advice? Do you want to stay useless?"

Yes, there was that flinch again.

"Reassure her that you're still there for her."

"What the hell does that mean? Her sofa is there for her. I want to help!"

"I mean reassure her that your relationship hasn't changed. You don't think less of her."

"Of course I don't."

"So say that. 'I'm still your friend.' or 'I support you.' or 'You're not the crazy one here.' "

"But what if she is?"

"Do you want to be Laura's boyfriend or her therapist?"

That attack had less effect on Koen than it would have had on an American. He just shook off the barb and said, "I don't want to just pretend to care about her while I try to get into her bed."

"Okay, okay. But that's what you're worried about. Like I said, focus on her. Tell her—"

Koen's translator cawed. They both twitched. So did their hostess, who had been thinking about human-shaped puppets.

"Call from General Graa of the Pick Embassy," said Koen's translator. "Answer now?"

"Yes," said Koen. "Hello?"

"Human Koen!" came Graa's voice. "I am aggressive! I will pick your brain."

Koen suffered a vision of a raven perched on his cracked skull. "Huh? I mean, clarify: you want to ask me questions?"

"You have expertise which I will take concerning Mr. Grumbles."

"Maybe he wants you to cook something for him," suggested Mark.

"I am angry!" Graa clarified. "Maybe your cooking is the problem. His performance is quite bad today. Maybe that is because of the potato chips."

"But you didn't let him eat any potato chips," Koen said, face heating.

High pitched caws from the translator. "I am worried and sad!"

Koen sighed sharply. "Ambassador Graa, Your Excellency, please tell me what you want."

"I want a solution to this problem: Mr. Grumbles was very difficult to wake up this morning. He opened his eyes, but did not uncurl from his sleeping position. When I had finally pricked him into standing, he responded sluggishly to commands. Usually he wants to go to the dog park for our morning run, but today he seemed to want only to stare at nothing."

Mark made a palms-up "your turn" gesture at Koen.

Koen gave empathy a shot. "He must feel…miserable?"

"Clarify?" said Graa. "What is the cause of this misery? What is the solution? Usually when one of my steeds is suffering this sort of malaise, I run it until it is exhausted and let it stroke my feathers. But today Mr. Grumbles did not want to stroke my feathers. I'm sad! I will call an expensive expert back home, but first I called you. You are a human, maybe you have cached valuable hidden insight."

"Well, I'm not a therapist…" said Koen and Mark gritted his teeth.

"I do not recognize your society's mind-doctoring credentials. And I can think very well for myself. I am frustrated and displaying dominance! Examine your primate feelings, then speak them to me."

Koen wanted to end the call, and Mark knew it. But he solved the problem. He met Koen's gaze and communicated, with a raise of the eyebrows that this was the job the embassy had hired him for. You don't want to be unreliable, do you?

Koen closed his eyes and examined his feelings. He imagined himself going to a party and not being allowed to eat the potato chips. All these other people who welcomed him, and now he couldn't see them. Being driven around by pecks to the side of the face.

"He's probably mad at you for not letting him eat yesterday, and sad and frightened because he's alone on a planet with no other…" he stopped himself from saying 'people' or 'humans', "…other steeds."

"I am bitterly amused! My steed cannot be angry at me. I raised him from an infant. He is utterly loyal."

"So he made his anger into sadness because that was safer," said Koen.

Mark blinked. That was a good one.

"I am interested. You have a shiny theory. What will you hit it with?"

"Clarify? You want me to test my theory?"

"Yes. Yes! I am dominant! You will come to my house and feed Mr. Grumbles. You will embrace him and groom him in the natural way, and I will see whether his performance improves."

"Um. Groom?"

General Graa ignored the question. "You should also inspect my kitchen. I am very busy, but I will drive off my other responsibilities and prepare a wide time for you to land in. Yes. I am dominant!"

"Wait," said Koen. "Clarify?"

"He's giving you a job," hissed Mark. "Say yes."

"Come to me at dusk, Koen. Come! Confirm it. Obey!"

Koen pulled his elbows in, as if defending himself from attack. The spider above took notes.

Mark leaned forward and asked the translator. "How much will you pay?"

"I am annoyed at your question, human. But I love my Mr. Grumbles. Yes. I will bribe your group-marriage with profligacy so great that they will let me steal you."

"Good. We'll be there as soon as we can." Mark grabbed Koen's translator, ending the call.

Koen stared at him. "Why did you do that?"

"Because I didn't want to give you the chance to screw the deal," said Mark. "Graa has just hired you as his ape-man whisperer." And I have found the control lever of the most useful human being on this planet. "Let's go find an omnibus that'll take us to him."

The humans confirmed payment for their soups and left. Behind them, the spider pulled a thread, which caused a mechanical arm to wave. "I will work hard to lure you back!"