It wasn’t a long explanation, though it felt that way with how Marshal was—and still is— looking at me. She has an expression that I’d call confusion if I couldn’t taste the fact that she’s mostly thoughtful. I’d even be tempted to call the head tilt cute if I was feeling up to it right now.

You know what? Yeah, it’s cute. And that’s actually making me feel a bit better.

I don’t know if fully reliving my death so I could describe it helped me deal with it, though. It’s not the same as a memory from my new probably-life, but it didn’t have any time to break down. And what came after was… far too pleasant and a bit horrifying when I think back on it.

So, so peaceful–

I shudder. It was almost impossible to think at all, and it would have been so easy to simply let go. But I didn’t and now I’m here.

Marshal chirps, an odd noise to hear from someone so big, and I look up from my thoughts. She’s looking down, concern rolling off her, “I don’t know what I was expecting…” She admits. “Maybe that your partner had been one o’ us? And maybe that you did somethin’ to deserve it? But you never seemed the type, and it wasn’t either of those.”

“I hadn’t known if I’d see her again,” I say, suppressing a sigh. “And if I ever did, not like that…”

“Mmm,” Marshal hums, her yellow floaty-band-thing swelling up. Then she winces, and I taste something like pain, but not quite. “Can’t imagine what that would be like,” She says. Although I think she just did. “I’ve been in my share of fights, don’t think I’ve ever been hurt that badly though. Then again…” She turns her eyes up to me, “I don’t think you can be hurt like that now.” She scratches the side of her neck, “Maybe you’re made o’ stronger stuff, or maybe you’re hiding it well, but… The way you been acting, you're not worried you might get hurt again?”

“It’s a bit hard to stab a ghost,” I quip.

“Not what I mean,” Marshal backs the words up with a full mom glare, “Inside, emotionally,” She enunciates. “You’re not shyin’ away from people.”

“You didn’t give me the chance,” I quietly reply. “I hadn’t tried all that hard to talk to anyone before you interrupted my…” Slow starvation, anger, depressive spiral, self-destruction. “And I’d felt so much better afterward that I did go find people to just… be around.”

That makes her very happy, “All ya needed was a little help. So, You okay otherwise? Nothing else ya need help carrying?”

“I don’t know if I’m ‘okay otherwise,’” I say, prompting a look from the giant pokemon. “I mean, I keep going in circles, I’ll feel better for a while, and then…”

“Ya let your guard down?” She asks. “And it all falls on ya again?”

“Not even that,” I tell her, shaking my head, “It creeps up on me. It’s not a surprise, I just… Whenever it does, I wish I could move on, stop worrying about it.”

“It doesn’t work that way,” Marshal points out, and I grudgingly nod.

“I know, I suppose that’s why it’s wishful thinking.”

“You got anything ta do? Something to take your mind off of things?”

“I… guess?” I say, not hiding my uncertainty.

“Well,” She says, leaning closer, “You have plenty o’ time. So, let’s give ya something good ta think about, then maybe something to do. Clear your head a bit.”

***

Talking with Marshal always helps, and this most recent time wasn’t different.

Okay, it was, but mostly because I got a lot more off my chest than the usual complaints and advice gathering. It helps that I can tell she understands, and even when she doesn’t she does her best to be supportive.

And being thanked, profusely, by a giant lion and a tiny kitten? I… I guess that helped.

Marshal’s training was different this time, too. Before, she felt like she was expecting basic competency. Now? I think I got baby’s first intro to pokemon powers. I’d figured some of it out on my own, but Marshal made sure I now know a few things that seem obvious in hindsight.

Like the fact that I can, in fact, hurt myself by overusing them—though you can apparently tell before you go that far. Also, after having me try some weird, twisty psychic things, she said “You’re gonna be one of the tricky ones, ain’t ya.” I suspect it’s a species thing, though.

Then I’d looked up at the sun and realized how long it had been.

I would have liked to wander around a bit longer, catch up with some of the groves, possibly chat with Leaf, but I need to make it back to the Rangers. Not that it’s hard, I’m… four-hundred feet up? And don’t have to deal with the wind at all.

I love flying, although I don’t know if what I do counts since there’s no real difference between what I normally do and this, just the height. Maybe I should try flying upside down? No, it sounds interesting but I still feel…

Well, I feel. I definitely feel after that talk with Marshal. I guess it counts as a long talk since we kept going even after she started trying to teach me again. Relieved? Yeah, there’s some of that. Happy? Eh, maybe. Drained? Definitely. And more if I wanted to self-analyze right now.

I think I’d rather get back to my new job and hope the boss-lady is understanding, though.

And on that thought, phase in and GRAVITY!

…

…Damn, it takes a while for me to fall, doesn’t it? Maybe I should phase out a bit? No, there’s no gravity at all while phased out. Hmm, I could just fly down, not like it’s much more effort than falling. But it feels different, falling, no thought or input required.

It’s certainly a lot slower, though.

I think I could do with slower right now. I’d stopped following Marshal’s advice to simply take the time for things, and that didn’t help, all it did was make time sort of… blur. So what if it might take a little longer to get back? I can see so much right now, the world spread out beneath me.

Amazing, how the city looks from up here. And the forest, a sea of green all the way to the actual ocean, with a few small islands and amazingly white beaches scattered along the coast. I can easily see a city on the southern coast, too, about a third the size of Vientow. And that’s not counting all the farms around here.

The sky is—as seems to be normal here—still a beautiful, cloudless blue as I drift down, birds flying through the empty air… Hmm, are there no airports here? Would you even need airports when riding flying pokemon is a thing?

I still haven’t explored all that much of my new home, have I?

…And I’m off track. How much farther? Eh, I’ll land when I land, I should be taking this time to just exist.

I’m definitely in a better mood by the time I fall through the ceiling of the ranger base. Marshal’s moderately mundane meditation proving its value again. Hmm, I should– Slap myself because I can literally keep things in mind instead of just thinking it.

It’s the same way I can remember everything about how I control my powers without needing to take the time to look back through everything else. I even had to do it already for my ghost…

Oh god, do I need to consciously sort all the new things? Mmm, I’ll get to that later. By which I mean I will get to it later.

Still don’t know why or how I can do this, but it’s not like I ever knew much about brains, let alone how I work now. Anyway, both of them are ‘stuck’ so I won’t even need to think about it.

As much, at least.

Next, let’s go tell Barry I’m back and hopefully not get a talking-to from the boss lady for skipping out on most of my very first day. …Oops. Well, I’m in the storage room, so I float through the wall to the operator room.

“…You’re not Barry,” I say to the brown-haired young man.

He jumps in his seat, scrambling to turn around, a hand held to his chest. After staring at me for several seconds, he calms down. A shame, really. “R– Right, Onaga said you’d probably check in,” He says a little shakily, “Let me just… I’ll let her know you’re here.”

Watching him use the radio equipment is different than Katie, he clearly knows how, but there’s a level of hesitation to it. He’s very obviously new, though, so I shouldn’t judge.

The numbers on the small, dot-segment LCDs switch a few times before the new operator starts talking. Do I care enough to listen? Not like I’ve got much else to do. “…Lumio, contacting ranger Onaga with an update on a partner’s status,” He sounds like he’s reading from a manual, “Misdreavus has made contact and is currently at rest on location–” He stops suddenly, blushing slightly. “Right, sorry, ma’am. Um, your partner is back.”

There’s a quiet moment as the man keeps listening to whatever is being said before he inspects me, “It doesn’t look like it?” He then flushes slightly again, “Sorry, yes ma’am.” He flips what I recognize as the mute switch, “Are you… okay? And–” He stops, holding a hand up to his headset, “Did your… meeting go well?” He asks me.

Well, it has been pretty clear that Marshal does have a reputation. “Yes,” I nod.

‘Lumio’ shivers a bit before going back to the big-ass radio equipment, “They say they’re fine…” And I tune him out. What do they think I wanted to talk to Marshal about? Or, looking back on it, what Marshal wanted to talk to me about?

Fuck, I wish I could figure illusions out. Only being able to hold a conversation with other pokemon feels… restrictive. Doubly so when I can understand what everyone else is saying. It’s not even as if it would be a revelation to anybody here, they know we can communicate.

Of course, I could do what Weaver’s been starting to, good old pen and paper. Except that, for as good as I'd like to think I am at telekinesis, I don’t quite have the dexterity yet. And using my arms is a no-go since they’re basically noodles that only work for wrapping around things.

Oh, am I being scary again? I re-focus the obvious source of the—admittedly slight—fear in the room and, yeah, he’s looking back a bit wide-eyed. Holding in a sigh, I rein in my arms and do my best to control my expression. It seems to work, but I think it’s time I found somewhere else to be.

Like finding Espeon since I can’t feel or taste him at the moment.

▲▲▲

▼▼▼

Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.

“And, Um… They just vanished,” Fran lamely reports. I’ll need to talk to misdreavus myself anyway, but I would have liked a few more answers first.

“Did they look like they were suddenly underwater before that?” I ask, already expecting a confirmation.

“Y– Yes,” Fran confirms. “Their mane sort of… unfurled before they–”

“Went dead still, yeah,” I finish. “I’d imagine while looking straight at you as well. I’m fairly certain that means they’re relaxed, at least. Leave them be for now, I can’t imagine Marshal wanting a private talk being fun, and there will likely be some issues when I get back.”

“Understood, ma’am. Ending transmission, ” He says, and the connection goes dead. Oh well, he’ll loosen up soon enough.

I’ve thought the same about Misdreavus too, honestly. Although, the ghost does tend to relax when it’s just other pokemon around them. Understandable, really.

Resolving to make sure I talk to Misdreavus before the professor does, I go back to waiting at the rail platform. Checking my watch, Rowan and his aide should be here in another five minutes, give or take.

I’d prefer if someone else were meeting them here, but Karlos made the point that it’s my partner they’re here to study and I’ll need to deal with them anyway.

Some people have been giving me curious looks, of course, but nobody’s approached me about anything. …Probably because I look impatient.

If I’m being perfectly honest with myself, I’m glad Rowan didn’t just send a trainer or assistant. The man studies pokemon development and evolution, so I’m almost certain he won’t act like most other foreigners and at least somewhat respect the pokemon.

At least the wait isn’t too much longer, and the rumble of the train soon gives way to the train itself, the steel behemoth slowly rolling to a stop. I start scanning the disembarking crowd as they all begin stepping onto the platform.

I know who I’m looking for, obviously. Even if I hadn’t been given a photo to identify him, I’ve seen him in the news on occasion, and on the backs of several books. It doesn’t take me long to spot the black-haired man and his impressive mustache making their way down the concrete path to the main road.

He looks a bit older than the pictures I’ve seen, in his late thirties to early forties instead of early thirties, wearing an unmistakably permanent glare, brown suit jacket, and slacks. The rather classy rolling case he’s pulling along makes it look like he’s here for a business meeting, not study.

There’s also a younger Kantonian man following him, brown-haired, wearing a brown vest over a white button-up, also with slacks, dragging a much larger bag. Maybe it’s just the fashion in Sinnoh right now.

Regardless, I put myself on an intercept course with them, Weaver—as always—trailing behind. They soon spot me as well, changing directions to meet me halfway.

“You’re here to escort us?” Rowan asks, tone as abrupt as a brick wall.

“For a certain definition of escort, yes,” I inform him, deciding to at least try politeness first. “Onaga Ryuko,” I say, holding out my hand.

To his credit, he seems to understand his faux pas immediately. Shaking my hand, he responds, “Apologies, I’m simply eager to get started. Professor Reynir Rowan.” He then gestures to the second man, “And, while he goes by a different name professionally, this is my current assistant and student, Doctor Ohkido Yukinari.”

“A different name?” I ask, holding out my hand for Ohkido.

“I’ve been making my way around the world to study,” He admits, rubbing the back of his head with one hand while shaking mine with the other. “And, well, no one outside of Indigo uses Kantonian, so it made things easier. Professionally, most people know me as Samuel Oak, now.”

Oak… Why does that ring a bell? “I understand,” I tell him in our native language. “Although, I’ve lived here long enough that I’m not certain I could operate a keyboard in Kantonian.”

Rowan clearing his throat pulls our attention back to him, “I believe we should turn our attention to why we are here, yes?”

I don’t think he’s trying to rush, necessarily, more that abrupt and focused may just be his general demeanor. “Well, we’ll have plenty of time for me to share my notes on the way back,” I tell the two men, nodding as I about-face to start leading them to the purposefully nearby tram track. It won’t be more than a few minutes before the next one rolls by. “I’ve got quite a few, so narrowing it down would help.”

Rowan must notice where I’m headed, as he speaks up, “I think I’d prefer to walk, after so long on the train.” Glancing back at the two men, I see Ohkido nodding slightly as well.

Fair enough. “This way, then,” I change course. “Just to make sure, but do you already have accommodations worked out?”

“We do. And as for the narrowing of notes,” Rowan moves the conversation back, “Feeding behavior. We know what, if only from surviving historical accounts, but ‘observation’ has only been conducted by the less… scientifically inclined, in the modern age.”

“Honestly?” I say, pulling my notepad out, “They’re nothing like the anecdotal accounts, especially the obvious exaggerations. Misdreavus appears almost like a filter feeder. There’s no noticeable change in their surroundings, but both they and an espeon confirm that they’re eating the ambient emotions.”

“They?” Oak asks, “I thought there was only one?”

“Yes…” I speak slowly, “And they appear to fall squarely in the ‘amorphous’ sexual grouping,” I continue, flipping to the appropriate page. “I haven’t asked, as they… well, I understand why people could call ghosts unstable, now.”

“That’s certainly interesting,” Rowan comments as we move fully into street traffic, “But to return to my original topic, we know for a fact that ghosts can predate on others. You haven’t observed such behavior?”

“No,” I shake my head, “Although I’d imagine they’d still take to predation as a last resort.”

“Hmm, and accounts of ghost attacks traditionally occur in places where there is little or irregular human or pokemon habitation,” Rowan muses. “Certainly a hypothesis worth investigating.” He pauses, and, if the length means anything, likely makes a note somewhere. “You said ‘ambient,’ is there some way you’ve measured how much they consume?”

I equivocate with a hand, “Second-hand observation, potentially. I mentioned an espeon? When Misdreavus is near him I can… I suppose ‘feel’ a little of what’s going on. Effectively, they seem to consume everything they can.”

This time it’s Ohkido who asks a question, “You’ve bonded with an espeon? Could you describe the synesthesia at some point? It’s been difficult to find people willing to do so.”

…That’s where I recognized his name from. “I could,” I say, glancing back at the man, “Though, you’re already studying one of my partners and Espeon won’t be put through anything stressful.”

Ohkido nods, appearing to understand the steel in my voice on that topic, and Rowan picks the thread back up again, “Would you describe misdreavus as a territorial species?”

That question makes sense, with how accounts of ghosts generally are. “Possibly,” I answer, considering it. “They certainly defended their residence in the forest. However… Hmm.” Were they territorial simply because they had a territory? “They’re rather reserved, overall, and had no issues with me sheltering in their home for an hour.” They also knew how to make a fire without simply conjuring flames.

Actually, “They’re frighteningly intelligent,” I tell the two researchers. “Currently only thirty-two days old and they’re already approaching literacy standards for the rangers, and I’m certain they’ll be setting the record for youngest pokemon to do so.”

That prompts a silent moment as the men absorb the information. “…Do you have any more examples to share?” Rowan asks.

“They knew how to create fire from friction at less than two weeks old,” I add. “And only ever seem to need one example of many actions before being able to replicate them.”

“Fascinating,” This time I do hear a pen quickly moving on paper. “There are examples of certain pokemon creating fire to cook with, though I can think of only four cases that did so without the use of abilities. Of course, it does beg the question of how a newborn would have learned the skill…” Do I tell them that misdreavus was being looked after by a water-type who is definitely one of those 'examples'? I’m certain the line of sharing too much about Misdreavus will be passed at some point, and likely already has been, but it’s better to do it with the ghost-type present to correct anything. “Hmm… do you know what their typings are?”

“Beyond ghost? I considered that they might be psychic for a bit, but they don’t communicate like one. Honestly,” I say, stopping as a tram crosses the road in front of us, “Even ghost is an assumption since there isn’t a lot of hard information on the type.”

“The hope is that this study can fill in some of those gaps,” Ohkido says, brightly.

I’m about to respond when a tap on my hip moves my attention down to Weaver, my partner holding her new notepad up to me. The words scrawled in her much improved but still crabbed script read ‘Spirit never forget.’

“Do you mean Misdreavus?” I ask, receiving a nod in turn.

“Hmm? What about the misdreavus?” Rowan asks, pulling me back from the startling amount of sense Misdreavus having a photographic memory makes of their behavior.

They’ve never needed anything repeated to them, they haven’t needed to re-watch any of the tapes, they seem to ignore repeated information… How they keep freezing at seemingly random times.

“…Weaver just told me something I’ll need to ask them about,” I defer, wanting the chance to do exactly that before saying anything about it.

“I see,” Rowan lets his skepticism drip heavily from his tone, but I ignore it. When I don’t expand on my answer further, he continues, “Perhaps it’s prudent to ask before we meet them, how do they react to being touched?”

Setting my thoughts on possible warning signs aside, I wince slightly at the question, “Not well. They let Weaver and espeon get relatively close, and even let Weaver touch them without much issue, but they have a large personal space otherwise.”

“They’ve become defensive?” Ohkido asks, genuinely interested.

“Eh…” I begin, glancing at Weaver, “It’s mostly that it’s obvious from the way they act. If you get too close they move to put distance between themself and you. And I might as well say it now since you’ll probably ask, yes, I have given them as much of a physical as I could.”

“As you could?” Rowan seems to lock on to words there.

That makes me smirk. Let’s see how they react to the results of that little fiasco, “Keep in mind, a lot of this is subject to change as they’ve grown larger since. But, their height was measured from the top of their head to frill tips at fifty-two centimeters. Weight was inconsistent and measured between nothing and three hundred grams. Temperature was the same as ambient, with no deviation. No pulse was evident when I checked, so average heart rate is currently noted at zero.” I glance back to see both men staring owlishly at me, “No visible sexual characteristics, as I’ve already said. I considered checking their internal pressure since they seem to be amorphous, but we don’t have the equipment for that. Also, while we didn’t want to deafen anybody, some back-of-the-napkin math put their known sound output at around one hundred sixty decibels. And maximum limb extension was measured at sixty-one centimeters for all seven limbs, with an unlimited range of motion.”

“Seven limbs?” Ohkido prompts, having recovered his voice. “Are they septagonally symmetrical in some way?”

“Nope,” I grin, “They can simply have up to seven limbs at a time.”

“Including sound output implies a specialization,” Rowan adds, once more stroking his mustache. “It is nice to have such statistics already, even if we will likely measure them again.” He thinks about that for a moment, “Or perhaps ask you to take new measurements.”

“I haven’t even finished,” I say, catching the scientists’ attention again. “I mentioned their weight fluctuating. It did so as they became less visible, decreasing until they simply passed through the scale. I also attempted to measure their miasma range, though I had to give up and estimate it to somewhere around a forty-meter radius, and completely unimpeded by obstacles.”

Both men blink at me.

“I have been around them for two weeks,” I answer the unspoken question. “And I’d be a terrible ranger if I didn’t try to learn more about my partners.” Not that Misdreavus has made it easy, as withdrawn as they can be. Frankly, Misdreavus isn’t the most social pokemon I’ve ever known, which is a stark contrast to how I’ve seen them act with Weaver, and how Maya described them interacting with ‘her precious Leafy.’

Ohkido gives Rowan a look, the older man keeping his glare fully on me, before glancing at the notes I’m still holding, “I suppose that is sensible,” The younger man allows. “Any other interesting observations?”

“Something that I only put together today is that they’re cathemeral, from what I and the rest of the staff at base have noticed,” I inform the two men. “Not simply with an irregular sleep cycle, either, as they don’t appear to sleep at all. Similar to many grass, rock, or steel-types.”

“I think,” Rowan begins, “We should have brought out the recorder.”

I can’t help a laugh at that, “It’s all basic observation and some of my thoughts, so take that for what it is. I haven’t heavily questioned Misdreavus since they’re… not skittish, but you’ll see.”

“Hmm,” is all the commentary Rowan has on that, and the men begin quietly talking between themselves. I don’t pay that much attention and only catch a few words that make me think they’re coming up with questions for Misdreavus and potential hypotheses for how the ghost-type operates.

We’re most of the way there when Ohkido speaks up, “Oh, that’s an excellent point. Miss Onaga?” I briefly glance back in acknowledgment. “You said there were no other individuals, but were there signs of any? Possibly a breeding pair or a parthenogenetic parent? Perhaps a fissile sibling?”

Well, there was a parent present, but that’s not what he’s asking about. “None, not that we looked for any,” I admit. “We’re not even sure where they were born, but I think I have a decent Idea.”

“Oh?” Rowan this time.

“We ask Misdreavus,” I say, letting a smirk cross my face as I glance back at them again to see Ohkido flushing slightly while Rowan is still glaring. A snicker from the sidelines tells me that at least one person appreciated it, though.

It’s only a few more minutes before we’re rounding the last building at the edge of the city. Though I need to squint to see the roof of the ranger base, I can still see both Espeon and Misdreavus in their now usual spots. One sprawled out to get as much sun as possible, and the other floating right next to them. I’m not sure I can put into words just how helpful they’ve been with Espeon, but it’s obvious whenever I get back.

While it’s hard to see at this distance, Misdreavus’ large eyes have probably spotted us. And, unexpectedly, they don’t vanish. That seems like a good sign, at least.

▲▲▲

▼▼▼

Well, there they are. I was sort of expecting to be able to recognize one of them since Rowan is a character I remember, but no. Instead, I see Onaga leading two men down the dirt road. One that I’m sure has to be Rowan, given his general air, while the other is somewhat similar to Onaga in that he looks Japanese, Even more than Onaga, in fact.

And Espeon is going to notice Onaga… now.

Right on cue, the cat raises his head from where he wasn’t napping, locking onto Onaga. He’s been doing better these last few days, but both Onaga and I leaving for most of the day left him with only Piplup for support.

And Piplup is… not a very empathetic person. Driven, certainly, but not good at relating to others. I’d needed to track Espeon down. Not that it was hard, he only ranges so far from the building and puts out a lot of emotion.

It’s been interesting to have a feeling of responsibility, though. Also terrifying, but I'm fairly sure that’s normal. Anyone who doesn't feel dread at the thought of letting a dependent down shouldn't have anyone depend on them.

…Something is very focused on me. Looking down, I see four sets of eyes watching me from much closer than a moment ago. And Espeon is completely ignoring me in favor of Onaga. Right, the dreaded research. I think I’m more relieved that it’s finally happening than anything.

Sinking through the roof, the insulation layer, the air cycling space, and the drop ceiling, I enter the lobby, leveling off at eye height with the humans. I can easily taste the intrigue and excitement pouring off the two men as the whole group enters the building, two gazes glancing at the spot in the ceiling I just moved through before returning to me.

“Interesting,” The older man says in a detached tone. He’s not fooling me at all, he’s outright giddy. “And the coloration does indeed seem to be meant to attract attention–”

Onaga cuts him off with a raised hand, “I understand you want to get started immediately, but I need to have a word with misdreavus first.”

Ah, I was kind of expecting this. Vanishing not even halfway through a day wasn’t my best move. Onaga only moves us to the other side of the interior door before starting, “Just to confirm, Weaver said you have a photographic memory?”

…Huh? I look at the weasel-cat in question, who answers the unspoken query, “She told the other humans you were really smart, I thought it was relevant.”

“Okay…” I trail off, thinking about that. “And, yes, but no?” I tell Onaga after a moment, nodding, then shaking my head.

The woman watches me for a few seconds before starting to slowly nod as well, “So, it’s more complicated than that, but it’s true enough?” I nod at the summary, and she thinks for a moment again. “That might be useful… Is that why you keep freezing?”

I wince. Not that I’d thought she hadn’t noticed it, but still. “Sometimes,” I say doing my best to equivocate.

She nods again, both relieved and uneasy about that answer. “And the other thing. You and Marshal, why did she want to talk to you?”

I glance at Weaver to see her ready to write stuff down. It’s scary how in sync they are sometimes. “She wanted to make sure I was okay?” Goddammit, that wasn’t meant to be a question. “And… I wanted to make sure I was okay too.”

It takes Weaver several seconds to write a few words down, but she shows Onaga the page once she’s done. I didn’t get a long look at it, but that doesn’t matter. It said, ‘Made sure they’re okay,’ in a very rough translation.

“That’s about what I expected from her,” Onaga sighs, now even more relieved. “But that can’t be everything, you were gone for several hours.”

I again glance at Weaver, who returns an innocent, uncomprehending look, “Um, Marshal wanted to teach me a few things.”

The dance of waiting and reading repeats, ending with Onaga pinching the bridge of her nose, “Right, I probably should have expected that from her. And it’s going to be good for you in the long run.” She leans back against the wall, arms crossed, “Okay, what’s next? It’s not dinner time yet and we’re already back at base…” She’s obviously thinking out loud. “I need to make sure Rowan and Ohkido are clear on your legal status before they try anything.” She concludes, mostly to herself. “And, to be clear, if you don’t like anything they do let me know immediately.”

I nod. And yeah, the way Onaga and Karlos explained partner status to me sounded like it’s in a strange legal gray area where I’m sort of my own entity but all the responsibility for my actions falls on Onaga. I should probably find out what it actually takes to become a citizen at some point.

Oh, Onaga’s leading us back out to the lobby, great. I hope things don’t get too weird.