Dave stretched on the bench, considering the smith’s words. Healy purred contentedly on his head, her crystalline form refracting the light streaming through the stained glass window like a small disco ball.

"I don't think that Terri's dangerous," he said. "She bought Healy for me from Healers Hall."

"That just proves my point," Remicra countered. "Who spends that much silver on someone they barely know?"

"Maybe she's just nice?" Dave suggested.

Remicra snorted, a small puff of smoke escaping her nostrils. "Nobody's that nice without an agenda."

“She has Lari’s… my best friend’s Cantigeist in her head,” Dave tried to defend Terri.

The dragoness arched an eyebrow. “So you trust a girl wielded by a centuries-old ghost? What if your Lari changed over her lifetime on Arx? What if she’s not someone you remember anymore?”

Dave fell silent at that.

“You’re too trusting,” Remicra added.

"Maybe," Dave shrugged. "But hey, it worked out with you.”

"That's... different," Remicra muttered.

"How so?"

"Urgh..." Remicra momentarily struggled to form a response. "I've been honest about who I am from the start! I never sold you lies, never pretended to be overly nice or extra-helpful."

"And now here we are, having a friendly chat," Dave grinned.

"That's because you're," she let out, "...bothersomely persistent. Like a bonded Kitlix that won't stop following me around! Your motivations don’t even make sense from my perspective."

"What about me is so confusing?"

"Why in the Abyss would you have posters of dragons?”

“What’s wrong with posters of dragons?” Dave asked, waving a hand at Remicra’s carvings. “You literally have that on your walls. Wooden art of dragons!”

“That’s different!” Remicra protested. “My Alignment is… a Pathosteel Dragon!”

"Which is what exactly?” Dave asked.

"Hrm,” she paused. “A dragon who can somewhat manipulate metal through… emotions. My scales change color based on my feelings, and those feelings can be somewhat channeled into metalwork. Metal is softer for me, so I can etch basic reinforcement hexagrams into it with my claws."

"Oh? You can shape metal with emotions?”

"Yes. I can make metal change colors," Remicra revealed. "Add, remove or repair a heraldic crest on someone's shield or armor. Nothing advanced."

"Can you show me?"

“Why?”

“I want to learn everything about you,” He replied.

“Why?”

Dave opened his mouth and found his thoughts too scattered, insufficient, shallow. Slotting all of his soul bits into Wisdom he leaned on Sherlock to try to explain himself better.

"Where I come from, friendship is built on understanding each other. People share their interests, their skills, their stories.” He waved a hand, relaxing into the metronome-like flow of ghostly Wisdom discerning deductions about everything around him.

He gestured at the wooden carvings. "Like these - they tell me something about you. That you're skilled with your hands, that you appreciate art despite what your owners might think, and that you have pride in your draconic heritage."

"And understanding me serves what purpose exactly?"

"It's not simply about that," Dave explained. "It's about making… a connection. When I was a programmer - that's someone who writes instructions for… uhh… thinking tools - I had lots of online friends who'd spend hours telling me about their favorite books, or games, or how they solved particularly tricky coding problems. Not because it served any purpose, but because sharing what we love helps build trust.”

"Trust," Remicra chewed on the word. "You want me to trust you?"

"I'd like that very much, yes," Dave nodded. "And I want to earn more of your trust… by actually getting to know you. Show me how your feeling-based Metallomancy works. Tell me about growing up in Starisle or what it was like for you in Shandria when you could walk outside the smithy. What places did you like visiting? Etc. I want to learn about the real Remicra."

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The dragoness simply squinted at him.

Sherlock’s deductive ghostly hand reached out towards Healy and began to examine Remicra through the eyes of the Kitlix.

Every micro-expression, every bruise and cut, every tiny shift in her posture told a story.

The way she sat slightly hunched, protecting her core - years of abuse from Princess had taught her to always guard against attacks. Her claws clicked against the floor rhythmically - a self-soothing behavior likely developed during long hours of isolation. The carvings on the wall weren't just art - they were likely a way to maintain her sanity, to remember who she was before the collar, displayed a deep desire to seek vengeance against the people who bound her.

"The real Remicra?" she finally asked with a bitter smile. "Abyss, I'm not sure if I know who that is anymore.”

He noticed how her tail curled tightly around her leg when she said this - a sign of growing insecurity.

"I think you do," Dave-Sherlock said. "She’s the girl who carved those scenes… A talented smith who maintained her craft, made me an awesome metal knife, helped me despite everything Princess did to break her. The girl who just helped me trick her Overseer because she chose to trust me, even though she’s been burned before."

Her scales flickered briefly to pink before she could suppress it. His human and magic eyes caught the reaction - affection between layers of jagged patterns of defensive hostility.

Her heart beat a complex rhythm - slightly elevated, but steady. More elevated when she stared at him. The blood cells rushing through her veins sparked what looked like some kind of metal… Pathosteel? The metallic particles seemed to dance in time with her emotional state, creating intricate patterns that shifted with her mood, rippling across her entire Aura.

Her crystalline scales weren't just changing color - they were actually conducting minute electrical impulses, creating a feedback loop with her nervous system. When she felt embarrassed, the pink flush wasn't just superficial - it was accompanied by a surge of warmth and increased blood flow to her scales.

"I..." Remicra began, then stopped, her internal temperature rising slightly. The metallic particles in her bloodstream swirled faster, creating beautiful fractals that reminded Dave of computational fluid dynamics simulations he'd once worked with.

Activating Phantom Sight and pushing it through Healy, he saw her, all of her anatomy, magical and mundane, all at once like an unfolded flower of Auric data, breathing in and out. A violet constellation, a brilliant soul standing out against an ever-rippling abyss of a gargantuan, endless funnel.

“Wow,” he breathed out.

The violet stars seemed to respond to his gaze, reaching out towards him with pink Auric threads across the infinite void. The way they pulsed trying to synchronize themselves to his own Aura wasn't just attraction - it was resonance.

Sherlock's analytical mind raced through the implications. The precise resonance between their souls - it all pointed to one inescapable conclusion: Remicra was…

SLAP!

Dave's head snapped to the side, his deep analytical trance shattered by the sharp sting of Remicra's scaled palm across his cheek. Healy tumbled off his head with an indignant chime.

“Hey, what?” He blinked, refocusing on the dragoness whose scales were dancing with brilliant violet and pink fractal swirls.

"You! You're doing something…" she growled softly. “S… stop it!”

“What am I doing?” Dave blinked as Healy climbed onto his lap with an annoyed look.

"Looking right through me,” she said with a small shudder, biting her lower lip. “Cutting… right into me with your eyes.”

"Uhm," he exhaled. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. I was just trying to understand..."

"Understand what?" Remicra demanded with a growl. She stared at the fading fractal pattern on her hands. “What in the Abyss have you done? My scales have never done that! What are you doing with that damn Kitlix? Are you trying to control me?! Mess with me with amplified Charisma?!”

“No, nothing like that. I was just... seeing you. Really seeing you, through Healy's eyes. No Charisma magic, I swear. I was trying to understand your Metallomancy, but I saw... more than I intended. Sorry."

“WHAT? Are you… undressing me with your Vitalix?” Remicra’s growl deepened as she glared at the crystalline kitten. “Is that it?”

Her tail lashed behind her as she leaned forward grabbing him by the collar bringing his face to hers. "You can't just... just... look at a girl like that! It's invasive! Just because you’ve a fancy-ass Healer Kitlix you can’t… look at someone’s…”

"No!" Dave protested, raising his hands defensively. "I was looking past your physical body, at your Aura and at your soul. It's... beautiful. Like a fractal flower, a constellation of violet stars."

“Liar,” she growled. “You’re not just looking. You’re making me… feel things!”

“I’m not, I swear! I didn’t think that just staring at you would do anything! I didn’t mean to do anything bad… Maybe it’s like… Observer Causality?” He asked, catching onto what Sherlock was thinking about Remicra.

“What?!”

“I think that your aura and soul responded to me because I simply looked at it. This didn’t happen when I looked at my other friends’ Auras earlier! Maybe it’s 'cus I got better at using Healy or… maybe…”

"Don’t try to confuse me with fancy words! You think that you can just peer into whatever you please… take whatever you want, is that how it is?” She snarled, claws tightening.

"No! It’s nothing like-"

"Like Burgundy’s men?" Remicra's grip tightened, shaking him. "At least they’re honest about their intentions! But you... you pretend to care, pretend to want to understand, and then you just... just..."

"I do care, damn it!" Dave snapped back, grabbing her wrists and automatically putting everything into Strength. "I wasn't trying to invade your privacy - I was trying to see the real you, the person behind all these damn walls you've built!"

Remicra simply growled in reply, her entire figure bathed with bright orange and pink. She wrestled against his hands, but found herself immobilized.

“You got stronger?” she hissed past her sharp teeth.

“I ate an entire Void dungeon,” he reminded her.

“Argh! I have to catch up,” she commented, violet tones replacing the orange.

"What?" Dave asked, not expecting her words, his heart pounding from their proximity.

"You heard me," Remicra growled softly, her breath hot against his face. "I can't have my human being stronger than me. That would be... embarrassing. Does it amuse you to embarrass me?”

"Yes," Dave admitted, choosing the path of honesty. "You're heart-stoppingly dangerously cute when you try to be scary while blushing pink from head to toe. Hang on… your human?”