Chapter 4

Tulla sat cross-legged on top of the strange alien man’s home… She’d already snuck inside and procured herself another candy bar without him noticing… then, she’d waited whilst enjoying it, figuring that, at some point, Arthur would turn around, and, she’d scare him, or—something… Earning herself a decent little laugh for all her hard work to go along with her snack. Truth be told, the plan as a whole had been sort of ad-hoc and without any real goal in mind beyond a little earnest mischief… though, now, the young girl was more perplexed than playful.

The problem as Tulla was discovering it, was that Arthur appeared to be in something of a mood. The man stormed about the grass outside his home in a tizzy, quietly muttering to himself like a deranged madman, all the while, things around him just started to, seemingly at random, suddenly—appear. At first, it had been weird, then, after Tulla had watched a shovel, hammer, axe, and even pots and pans manifest as though from the air itself, all while the curious man looked to be sprinkling grass upon random spots around him, the clipping disappearing before hitting the ground, the young girl had become—curious… Now, she was rather enjoying herself, watching as Arthur, looked as though he were dancing about like a simpleton. All while picking up and discarding the random assortment of odds and ends about him into the invisible area he was currently focused on. After a time, something would ultimately appear, as though from nowhere, occasionally causing the weirdo to start cackling with a manic gleam in his eyes whilst reiterating time and time again that magic was everything and everything was magic.

The young girl thought that this rather obvious statement regarding what was one of the very first things she’d learned in school to be somewhat—odd, specifically because he was babbling about it as though it were some grand discovery, but, it was no less amusing to watch. She’d been wondering why she’d become so—attached to the stranger… not because it was a question posed by her own thoughts, but because it had been something her mother kept questioning her about over and over until she just couldn't help but ponder it herself. She bloody well did so every time the weirdo’s name came up in conversation, which, as it happened, was quite a lot given how excited her uncle apparently was about his presence. Yet, she found that the very reason she liked Arthur was that he, simply put, wasn't anything like the dreary soldiers that made up the village… He was—in a word, interesting, and there was the way he smelled when her mother was around… utterly intoxicating. Sure, he wasn't a bal, but she’d been sick of her kind for years, forever lost between being too mature for the other children raised by a marching legion and too young to mingle with older teens or normal adults. Yet, Arthur was already proving to be—different from both.

Case in point, Tulla was managing a—tentative grasp of what Arthur seemed to be doing. Which, from what she could tell, was a sort of transmutation, but, one she wasn't really managing to fully wrap her head around. She understood that he was creating things and, from his excitement, rather specific things as well, but how he was managing to do it confounded her, especially because he appeared to be breaking the core foundational rules of the subject itself. One wasn't supposed to be able to take something like grass and make metal with it… of that, Tulla was entirely certain… but he still did it… again and again… He did it so many times that she began to question if her teachers, and auntie Cass specifically, really knew all that much to begin with… Here Arthur was, proving them all wrong, a stranger from another universe that apparently knew nothing about magic, demonstrating core principles false within his first days here… She absolutely loved it. People who knew magic were always so stuck up about the damned stuff! Always saying, no Tulla! That’s dangerous or, no Tulla, it doesn't work like that!

Yet, eventually, She did grow bored as Arthur’s progress on whichever project he was focusing on stagnated… his ire and frustration leaking out through his emotions as he stormed about the grass, kicking and growling like a wild animal… Fun as it had been, Tulla inevitably gave in to the seductive allure of the strange plays Arthur called cartoons, his fluffy bed, and, of course, chocolate. It was a wonder how any of his species managed to survive with such poor senses, the young girl all but giggling to herself as she silently slipped to the ground and crept inside Arthur's home. She hadn't told her mother she was coming to visit, largely because she’d proclaimed that she would go with her… That was the last thing Tulla wanted… to be mothered when all she desired was some bloody alone time… A little bit of affection was all well and fine, yes, but so much could be—bleh… Then, a sudden thought occurred to Tulla that made her face light up as though a fire had been ignited behind it… If Arthur could create metal from grass, then couldn't he make chocolate as well? Didn't that mean the chocolate in his special cupboard wasn't as rare or hard to get as it had previously been? A grin that could have split the sky itself washed over the girl's face, mouth drooling as she approached the magical door leading to a world of delightful sweets.

Arthur wanted to scream! What was happening? It was all here, right here! The concept was there; he’d proven that much, and the tools were at his disposal. Plus, there weren't any limitations he could find, no restrictions in the card, yet why was it that he was staring at a transparent shell of his greatest creation rather than a robot that was already flying through the air! It didn't make any damned sense! How could he create a pistol from grass but not a drone from it? What pray tell exactly was the difference between the two? Both were no more than refined materials, hard work and effort! So, what was he missing? Everything else he’d tried to make had thus far worked, so he didn't really understand why this wasn't… For all his experiments, he should have been able to create a robot out of aluminum, plastic and carbon… among other’s of course. Yes, the process admittedly would have taken very long given the complexity of the materials he wanted to use, as well as the complexity of the design. But, as he’d discovered, the foundations of—well, everything in this universe was apparently magic, so that meant, at its most basic form, magic could turn into anything! And, anything with magic, which was everything, could be converted with an obvious but manageable reduction in both energy and efficiency during the transmutation…

He admitted that the solid block of titanium, small as it was, had taken an absurd amount of grass to even moderately reduce the time required for its theoretical existence to passively capture what he could only assume was ambient magic in the air. It had gone a lot quicker when he’d started tossing in the metal pots, pans, axe, pliers and everything else he’d made, but it had still taken a few hours. However, now, all he wanted was a tiny bot no larger than his hand, and he’d even tossed his chunk of titanium at it, thinking it would at least do something to shorten the process… however, not only was his latest project not advancing quickly, but, it wasn't even doing so slowly! There had to be a reason… had to be something he was missing here… He’d imagined a permanently loyal and intelligent camera robot that could interface with his phone and RV, something like a spy drone, only smart and capable of independent operations. He hadn't expressly said Artificial intelligence but it had been strongly implied.

How was this not allowed, but literally fucking with time was? T-this! His tiny, innocent and harmless robot banished to inexistence while the ultimate scientific sin was permissible! It didn't make sense, didn't make any damned sense! How! Why? Literal time manipulation! Arthur was ready to start pulling his damned hair out! Teeth grinding as he scowled at the outline of his yet-to-be-real robot in its ethereal state right before rampaging into a problem he likely couldn't have fixed.

“I knew there was something wrong with you…” A low and cultured voice drawled, fixating Arthur's attention as quickly as a speeding bullet.

“A-ah… Dianna…” Arthur struggled, reply caught in his throat, all the while his composure, failing quite spectacularly as it was, meagrely managed little more than a gasping, fish-like response. “A-are you… why are you here?” Christ! He hadn't even heard her approach!

The demoness just looked at him as though he were a moron, her gaze shifting to his house for a moment before resting upon him once again, expression expectant. It took a heartbeat or two for the gesture to actually register, Arthur’s head, or rather, his monkey brain desperately trying to figure out if it meant what he thought it did… Naturally, the—young man in him was rather—flattered by the offer… Strange as it was—unexpected, Dianna, after all, was utterly gorgeous, even with all the strange demonic bits, so much so that he doubted there would have been a man alive on earth would wouldn't have willingly worshiped at the woman's feet—or, hooves… She was tall, lithe and powerfully muscled, her significant chest—endowed by the most modest interpretation he could manage… She was, in fact, the most dangerously alluring woman he’d ever seen, with high and imperious cheekbones that were sculpted as though meant to be the epitome of cold and detached seduction… Even her jawline looked as though it had been C.G.I-ed onto an actress's face to be the most aesthetically pleasing combination of firm femininity to enhance her breathtakingly stern features. More, Arthur suspected he might have lost his jaw on the floor had she—washed with any discernable regularity, her body—not filthy, but, as evidenced by the greasy braid of her hair and powerful smokey scent, not—fresh either… As she was, Dianna had this sort of—dangerous warrior goddess vibe about her, sprinkled of course, with liberal quantities of demonic flare… Yet, for all of that, and in spite of how—attracted he was to her in a—strange but undeniable way given her figure, Arthur wasn't sure if he could… manage it… Again, he was very flattered, but he frankly thought she’d probably ruin him… Dianna had to outweigh him by at least a couple hundred pounds… and, were he really honest with himself, probably a good deal more…

Stupidly, he nearly even said as much as what was going on through his head, very nearly signing his own warrant for execution before he doubled back upon his own foolishness, or, he tried to, the reality of it all was that, caught flatfooted as he was, Arthur wasn't at his best… “Ah… yes…” He began, Addams apple bobbing with mild distress. “Well, how do I put this… gently… I’m… I'm grateful but wish to decline in the most respectful manner that I truly hope you would accept… T-too much on the old mind as it were to—perform adequately a-and…”

His words trailed off with the wind as a pregnant silence filled the air about them, Dianna’s expression shifting right as Arthur realized his—mistake. For a man who rarely had his mind in the gutter, he wasn't earnestly sure how he’d even made it this far… He took a step backwards, half tripping upon an errant pitchfork head, which, in of itself, was far too comically abused to be how he really went out… wasn't it?”

“I'm not here for that.” She declared calmly, and that, much to Arthur's surprise, was all the woman said on the matter… Swallowing hard, even as he forced his mind away from the notion that he might just have noted some sort of—discoloration in the demon's cheeks, it was all he could do but try and reorient himself. Most likely, the difference in shade was from rage, as he told himself quickly, hands already forwards and held out as though trying to calm an angry dog.

“T-then… ahem, maybe it’s best you tell me why you’re—here then?”

“Tulla didn't tell you?” She asked, a small quirk of annoyance forming on her face.

“I haven't seen Tulla since last night… Are you sure—” He paused mid-sentence, head turning as he, for the first time, noticed sounds emanating from his RV.

He frowned, looking back to the terrifying demoness with a blank face before turning around to open the door of his home. There he found the woman's tiny spawn, systematically devouring what was his entire stash of treats, all the while lounging on his bed, sticky paws getting his bedding fouled with dark smears and crumbs, her thus far favourite show all but blasting through the speakers, not that she could understand it. Now, he was sort of annoyed his RV had a sound-deadening feature that kept what went on within largely private…

His first instinct was to march up and admonish the demonic child… take away what remained of the snacks, and… well, give her a stern talking to about personal space—at the absolute minimum. That thought, however, was quickly abandoned as his head swivelled to see that Dinna was now beside him, moving as a wraith whilst her daughter boisterously laughed at the holograms…

“I agree with your mother Tulla; there needs to be rules if you wish to visit.” The girl pouted at the two adults that were standing side by side, unwilling to meet the gaze of her mother, but feeling shame at the devastation she’d unwittingly wrought upon her new favourite person’s home. She knew better, but, she just hadn't been able to control herself! “If anything, I’d at the very least like you to let me know when your here! And, second to that, ask before you just take what isn't yours; it's common sense!”

“She doesn't need to ask because she won't be coming back.” Dianna proclaimed, fury in her eyes. “I don't like this place Tulla, I don't like that you're coming out here on your own. We agreed that I’d travel with you just this morning, and here you are, not an afternoon after making a promise and breaking it with shameless abandon.” Her words sounded like she was nearly reaching a boiling point, voice rising in decible with each successive sylable until she was right on the cusp of shouting. Honestly, it made Arthur sort of—reset. His gaze just looking at her like she were some—moron… The hell did she thing shouting was going to do?

“Look, it's not that bad Dianna… Far be it from me to intercede with how you want to parent but, I don't mind if she’s here, and, it's already quite clear she’s going to do as she pleases… I’ve learned it's better to make deals rather than come down with a heavy hand, it just makes kids more likely to rebel.”

“What can you possibly know about my child!” Dianna snapped, rounding on Arthur as he scowled at her, beside himself with how archaic the woman was being with her concept of raising children. Maybe he’d been wrong; maybe the bal were a lot more barbaric than he’d thought…

“Enough,” he growled softly, tone coldly quiet, “to realize that she obviously didn't want you to come with her, which either means she’s trying to escape you already, or, she already knows you would disapprove of her presence here and ruin it. Either way, it's a recipe for damned disaster! Isn't this all how she got captured in the first place? By ignoring rules that clearly didn't work out?”

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Dianna was menacing now, her tail all but rattling like a snake, looking to be poised to strike, even as the tiny and weak creature before her appeared to infuriatingly hold his ground. She could smell the fear on him, it was obvious and he wasn't hiding it from her, even as he marshalled whatever courage he had, yet, the man had been flagged by her brother-in-law as irreplaceable, a notion in of itself which was utterly ridiculous… She couldn't kill him, not without hearing about it for the rest of her damned days… but, she could get away with harm, so long as she was careful not to go too far… One of her hands wrapped itself around his tiny neck, the man's surprise evident as his fear bled through the mask he was wearing before quickly disappearing again.

He grunted, pretending to be more annoyed than terrified as he truly was. “Heh, hrhmm! Th-the hand makes it clear you’ve run out of arguments…” Then, chuckling and half wheezing from air loss the fucker smirked at her wolfishly, even as she hoisted him in the air, a low rumbling snarl escaping her throat.

“What do you know of my family? What makes you think you have the right to make decisions? To even breath a suggestion towards a topic you were not invited to have opinions on?”

“You're in my house!” Arthur growled back, though, the effect was somewhat lessened by his inability to touch the floor with his feet.

Dianna had to admit that he wasn't a tiny man, not large with muscles, but, more rangy… However, those muscles were clearly just for show as it was almost pitiable how easy it was to overwhelm him… She didn't even have to try before… The demoness blinked, looking down to see a hissing beam of energy at her throat, held so close as to gently singe her skin… It was—was actually burning her… her! She hadn't even seen him move; hadn't had her instincts even register the… Dianna's gaze lifted upwards as her nose scented burning ozone, staring at the undeniably scared man in her hand, yet, his body was calm and loose, strange blue eyes empty of any observable emotion…

“Stop fighting!” Both adults turned to stare at the small child who was yapping at the two of them, little hooves stomping on the ground in protest, claws extended as though she herself were about to dive headlong into a brawl to get stuck in. “Mom! Let Arthur go! He hasn't done anything!”

The demoness frowned, looking back to the strange alien who had, upon her daughter's demand, retracted the curious weapon that had been at her throat… the vibrant energy disappearing within some wrist-mounted contraption… Despite herself, Dianna found her arm lowering the man back down to the floor as well, his feet touching it but a moment before Tulla ran and attached herself at his leg.

“I-Im sorry I ate all your food!” She sobbed, rubbing her face against his thigh, tail and wings wrapping around him in a hug… “I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!”

Something… cracked in Dianna’s heart as she nearly staggard backwards, uncertain of exactly what was happening… shouldn't she be the one her daughter ran to? Still, despite everything that had happened, despite his fear and near-death experience, he knelt, picking Tulla up and patting her on the back, shooting Dianna a cold look that was entirely a command for her to calm down and not a request… It seemed—odd coming from where it did, and yet, she felt herself force the anger down all the same…

Arthur stood there… Sighing as he comforted the poor girl, eyeing what remained of his special supply… It was in tatters… not much left by anyone's account… was he angry? Well, the answer in truth was yes, but, letting it out on the girl who’d clearly been unprepared for the effect that sugar and fatty oils, salt and lab-made flavouring made to be as addicting as legally allowed was—not her fault… He would mourn the loss of his precious supplies another time, and, instead, focus on what really mattered…

“It's alright, Tulla. I get it. They're good…” He sighed, consoling the sobbing girl as he forced his own emotions into his guts. “I just wish you would have asked before you took it all… Now, it's all gone, right? I can't give you any more…”

The realization of what she’d really done dawned on the small girl as she pulled away, snotty face trailing a line of goo from his shirt as her eyes fell upon the ruination her snacking had wrought whilst the light dimmed from her eyes. Then, promptly returned as she grinned at him with a fanatical expression.

“Can't you just make more? Like you were making the metal from the grass?”

“He was what?” Dianna drawled, taking a step towards the pair as if to try and reach out for Tulla, even as her own daughter shied away, giving her a sour look and an honest to god hiss…

“You saw that did you?” Arthur more commented than asked, thoughts dimming in his mind as he considered just how—reckless he’d been with his experiments. So long went his secrets… and it hadn't even been two days…

“I got bored when you were just stomping about complaining that something wasn't working… but, I saw enough sitting on the roof. You're really easy to sneak up on.”

“Probably not something you want to go around talking about… either thing actually… You think you can keep them both a secret for me?”

Tulla sniffed, considering Arthur’s request with a sudden air of haughty self-importance that betrayed her rather obvious intentions. She wasn't the only one who wanted to break free from the somewhat awkward situation… “What do I get out of the deal?”

Arthur made a great show of pretending to be lost in serious thought, as though he were bargaining with a master negotiator who had him by the balls, and, maybe, was even twisting. It was all theatre, obviously. And, again, while upset, he found himself less and less so towards the girl herself… After a moment, he grinned and pointed at one of the wrappers still on the bed.

“Agree, and I’ll promise to try to make more of what you ate. No guarantees, though. I'm actually not certain that I can do it…”

“What about more shampoo?” She countered, a hand reaching to her head and pulling the strands to her slitted nose.”

“If I can manage the food, I doubt shampoo is that big a deal… What's your favourite smell? Cinnamon? Vanilla?”

“Oranges!” Tulla replied, beaming at the thought of it all.

“What about oranges mixed with chocolate?”

The small girl's mind was blown for several seconds as her eyes shot wide, having never even considered the now oh-so-obvious combination of what was, in her mind, her two favourite foods.

“You can make metal from grass?” Dianna repeated, tone… forcibly even, her eyes narrowed upon Arthur as he took a deep breath, putting Tulla back on the bed as he considered the demoness for a moment before slowly nodding his head. Tulla had already spilled the beans on that one, and he was looking for someone to answer some of his questions anyway…

Arthur let the girl finish off the remainder of his stash, now, in truth, after musing over what he’d already been doing, fairly confident that he could easily replace it and even add to it as his leisure. Snacks weren't what was important to him, to begin with… He’d requested to have a talk with Dianna outside, both of them promising the child within that they wouldn't be trying to hurt each other again… It left the pair with an entirely awkward silence to deal with, one that hung between them, largely in part because they’d both just been at each other's throats in the most literal of meanings. Arthur, for his part, wasn't exactly sure how to treat the demon woman… he was still scared of her, yes, but the fact that he’d survived multiple encounters with death while in her clutches sort of cheapened the whole experience… Especially when he discovered that his little gambit had paid off. Had it been a real fight, Arthur might have won… or, at least, taken the demoness with him… Naturally, his trick was off the table until tomorrow, but that didn't mean it made her otherwise very intimidating presence somehow… less… Admittedly, it had been a cheap shot. Still, progress was everything!

What Arthur really wanted was a beer… and, sadly, he didn't have many of those left… however, he was determined to be the bigger person here, so, with a short glance in her direction, Arthur wandered over to his campers outdoor cooler, unlatching it with a practiced hand and peering into its depths. Three… that was all he had left of the entire stockpile he’d purchased upon his departure from society… and even then, the last dozen had been those he was truly babying… But, with a sigh, he pulled out two of the bottles, handing one to Dianna who took it with suspicion, even as he popped his own cap with his belt, upending the dark container with a swig.

“It's alcohol.” He answered, not needing to actually hear the demon's unspoken question.

“Why is it cold then…”

“It's better that way… trust me, if there's one thing my people don't fuck about with, it's our booze.”

Dianna nodded at this, not entirely sold on the idea but seeming to go along with it, eyeing the cap ponderously before pressing at it with the tip of her thumb. Arthur wasn't even surprised when the thing exploded upwards without the woman seeming to even struggle with it.

“You're ridiculously strong, you know that?” He muttered, watching as the demon took a tentative sip, then licked her lips approvingly before drinking more.

“I am rather strong, but I’m not the strongest of my kind; I think your people are just pitiably weak.”

“A concept we've struggled with our entire history.” Arthur agreed with a nod. “It's why we were forced to make things like this.” With a gesture, a long and bright blade of energy extended from Arthur's wrist, safely avoiding the location of anything that might get lopped off if he moved his hand improperly, the light more following in and along with the rotation of his hand. To make a point, Arthur bent down and cleanly sliced through a medieval great helm he’d made, making the effort look as easy as tearing soggy toilet paper. He retracted the weapon a moment later, picking up one still glowing half of the ruined piece of armour from a safe location and a bit of nearby cloth before tossing it at Dianna with lazy disregard. She caught it without missing a beat, indifferent to the glowing heat, staring at the thing with an unreadable expression.

“I wasn't lying, you know, about the whole planet killing bit… We really could do it…”

“So, you're threatening me then? Is that what this is?”

“No…” Arthur sighed, leaning back on his camper while staring upwards at the breathtaking scene that hung above them both. “Truth is, you could probably kill me before I got the chance to do much about it right now. That tail alone is pretty unfair and, if you went airborne, well… Anyways, Im not trying to piss you off but, it keeps happening and, I’d rather not find out what it takes for you to figure you need to do something about me. So, I want to talk, work out whatever it is between us and make sure I don't wind up falling from a hundred kilometres in the sky while coming out of sleep.”

Dianna seemed to think on that for a moment, considering but, not saying anything outright. She took a few more swallows from her beer before nodding to herself and meeting his eye. “I don't trust you. Don't get me wrong, I'm thankful for what you did, but I don't know you, don't understand why my daughter likes you so much and am having an even harder time trying to figure out how you act so calmly when clearly you're terrified. It's wrong and unnatural. When prey is scared, it should emote, not hide behind a mask. It makes you seem like that much more of a disturbingly dangerous individual than you let on.”

“All fair…” Arthur chuckled with rueful self-deprecation… “So far as the scared thing goes, your right, you fucking terrify me… we don't have anything like your kind where I'm from, not anything that's real anyways… But, the reality of it all is humans, my people, are scared all the time. It might not always be because of death, but part of the reason we’re so advanced is because most of the things on our world were really good at killing us, ourselves included. Wanting to survive and advancements in society sort of walk hand in hand… “

“You're saying you don't run away from me when I can clearly smell that you want to is because you're—used to being scared?”

“Pretty much…” Arthur smiled, though it was a thin thing at best. “I’ve got my own demons to deal with that bother me while I sleep. You're scary, yes, but you’re also a lot of other things as well… I’d say human-like, but that term’s probably more insulting than anything…”

“I… see…” A laugh from inside the camper managed to gain Dianna’s attention, her gaze shifting to the door where her daughter was busy giggling despite the language barrier. “I'm not used to hearing her like that.”

“And I can tell… Not meant as an insult, I don't even know you're culture, but, for us, my kind that is, and back home, mothers aren't exactly a rare thing in communities. We tend to multiply quite fast, which is probably the only reason we haven't all killed each other off… Still, you get good at reading those sorts of interactions in a society where it's illegal to hurt other people within your own country. Disciplining children or otherwise.”

“I thought you just said your people are a bunch of overly smart barbarians that like whacking each other with their stupidly dangerous weapons.”

Arthur barked a laugh, the sound coming despite himself as he grinned at the demon with an earnest expression. “W-hehe-we do—do, that… but, that was more in our past than present. Now, we mainly just murder each other in virtual reality—ah, you could consider it sort of like our own universe that we created and sometimes choose to live in… that's what I kind of thought this all was until I realized It didn't make sense for it to be—fake. He could tell that the demon wasn't exactly looking comfortable with what he’d just said, and, feeling a pang of guilt for possibly causing this universe's first existential crisis of what was real and what wasn't, he quickly glossed it over with a lazy wave of his hand. “Don't think about it, doesn't work like that. Besides, aren't I just some crazy foreigner who's too stupid to run away from a towering badass?”

“You are…” Dianna allowed, her lips curling ever so slightly with appreciation, but, it was a weak thing at best as her tone grew—sombre, more contemplative as she relaxed. “What would your people do if they all suddenly appeared here like you did?”

“Wage war, get killed, kill, jump for joy that they get to go fuck beautiful alien woman and men, play with magic till their heart's content… I don't know, live?”

“Your people fantasize about sleeping with other species than your own?”

Arthur caught the barely concealed twitch of the demon's upper lip as she spoke, doubtless imagining his people to be a bunch of animal-banging degenerates. Well, certainly the degenerate part was true… and—distressingly, so was the animal part… Illegal or not…

“Only when it comes to people like us.” He stated, ignoring the final part of his prior thought given it really only pretrained to the true loons of society. “I know I said we’ve only got humans where I come from, but you might be surprised that despite never having encountered someone like yourself, there are an astounding quantity of media examples available with all your particular features. We can be quite imaginative… but I suppose monotony will do that to a culture. Even you have to admit that, aside from the tail, wings, horns and hooves, everything else is pretty much the same.”

“Yes, it is very strange, honestly. Most intelligent races are bipedal with the same general shape but, it's as though your only unique feature is that there's nothing particularly unique about you… No claws, no talons, no elemental bits or animalistic accents… and, very little hair…”

“We can't even see in the dark!” Arthur laughed, noting how Dianna’s eyes seemed to shine in the waning light, shaking his head as he drained the remainder of his drink, staring at the thing longingly before placing it on the ground with a tangent thought.

“Not at all?”

“Not without proper tools, and, even then, it's nothing like seeing in daylight…” He replied, not at all surprised that the demons could apparently do so if that response was anything to go on… Instead of pondering the unfairness of biology, Arthur focused elsewhere, mind shifting gears and using his latest card to create another bottle of beer, and finding at least some surprise when he saw its ethereal outline appear. He pushed his empty bottle into it, adding some grass as Dianna watched him with a raised brow. And within a minute, a sealed bottle emerged from the air itself, Arthur stooping down to eye the thing with earnest skepticism before popping the lid and taking a drink. It was warm… unfortunately, but, nevertheless, it was a dead copy of the beer he’d just finished.

Arthur snorted, shaking his head at the ridiculousness of it all and pounding the thing back, envisioning a case this time, only to discover the same issue as this robot. With a sigh, he merely began making a series of single beers in a row, feeling a sort of strain in his chest once he reached seven and promptly stopping until most of them had formed.

“Need another? They won't be cold, but it's, apparently, still beer…”