"Good to see you again," Mark told mix Sty.
He couldn't honestly say the same of restaurant Paps, with its dark interior, jangling puppet-Quotidian. That sense of being lured to his death. But then, he wasn't being honest when he said it was good to see the clown-wrangler.
Mix Sty wedged herself into the mucousal columns surrounding a table. Her eye was at a level with Mark's face, giving him an excellent view of the jaws that slavered between her legs. "I am also glad to see you outside your hive. It was not moist enough. Will you defend yourself?"
Mark's shoulders tensed. He smiled wider. "Defend myself against what, Quotidian mix Sty? I thought this was supposed to be a discussion of my next performance."
"Human Mark, I will be chivalrous. I did not bring a baby to this meeting."
Mark didn't have time to figure out how to ask mix Sty what she meant without admitting that he didn't know what she meant. While he was thinking, Proprietress the spider bustled her puppet up to their table.
"Welcome! And welcome back, Human Mark," came her tinkling voice. "It is with authentic and utmost pleasure that I receive a member of your species once again into my parlor."
"Oh. Yes. Thank you." Mark covered for his confusion. He had just realized that the Neurospastic had somehow recognized him personally. If Mark ever saw a big, puppet-wielding spider, he would have no idea who it was. All members of other species looked the same to him. How could he prevent anyone from finding that out?
"What can I prepare for you, Honored Sophonts? Something usual, or something exotic?"
"Usual," said mix Sty. "I've done enough for my philosophy today by meeting with the human."
Pretending he wasn't insulted, Mark smiled and looked up at the ceiling. He wished he hadn't. It was a nest of spiderwebs up there, dangling with counterweights and sparkling with embedded lenses. Something clicked up there like abacus beads.
"The same as last time, Human Mark?"
"Yeah, sure. Thanks."
"I see you're wearing clothes under your raincoat," said mix Sty as the spider slid off.
Mark jerked between his support-struts. "Clarify?"
"I originally thought your cloth armor and the dryness of your skin were a signs of lack of trust."
"Oh, certainly not!" Mark waved his hands in a way mix Sty no longer found amusing. "Quotidian mix Sty, let me assure you that mutual trust is our greatest hope."
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The pheromone-laden brush on the end of Mix Sty's tail nodded between them like a lighting fixture. "Much of my first impression of you was wrong," she said. "I have worked with chordates before and most of you are all right in your way. A bit creepy with your sideways faces, but no stranger than, say, cephalopods."
Mark wondered what he looked like to the Quotidian and suffered a flash of empathy. The human being with his skin the color and texture of clay dust, tufted on top, limbs all sprouting from different places, his face a bizarre mask of stretching, pulsing skin.
"So," he said instead of dealing with this insight. "You said something about personal development and penance?"
"I see you're asking about my reasons for seeing you in person. It is requirement of my
"Oh," said Mark.
"I see you still don't understand. You are my penance today, Human Mark. You trigger my disgust response."
Mark shuffled through possible answers, wasting only a little time wishing Koen were here. "Ha ha," he said. "I'm glad I could help."
"I see you are offended. I should not be so proud that I cannot make a confession: when I am faced with a non-clone Quotidian, I am seized by the passion of competitive hatred. But you humans look so utterly bizarre that the result is hilarious. I feel as if I am talking to a balloon-animal."
Mark wondered if his interlocutor was drunk. How would he be able to tell? Maybe he should get drunk, too.
"That is why you make such good clowns," concluded mix Sty.
Mark brightened. Aha! A segue.
"Yes," he said, and laced his fingers together in front of him in a way that reminded mix Sty of a pair of toothed mandibles clasped in a silly smile. "My team-building demonstration."
"Yes."
Mark wanted to know what mix Sty had thought of it, but it would be more of a power-move to pretend he didn't need her validation and already had her approval for the next phase. "I'm planning the next one already. I'm thinking a ropes-course in the forest."
"That is not illegal."
"Um. Good? Well. When should we schedule it for?"
"I will not schedule it," said mix Sty. "I clarify: please don't involve me in any more of your demonstrations because I hate them."
Mark didn't allow himself to be angry or worried. He didn't think about what any of this meant. He just rolled with the punch and said the next appropriate thing. "I'm very sorry to hear that. Of course, I will incorporate any notes you have for me into my next performance."
"Another hypothetical performance wouldn't get as much attendance even as your first. An unknown thing is better than a thing known to be bad."
Mark thought furiously. Why was she saying these things? What was going on in her alien mind? What did she want?
Failing that, what had worked during their last conversation? "Is this another calculated humiliation?" Mark tried.
"No, you are doing this to yourself. And it isn't enough."