Follows A Little Spark: Sc.21-24


                                            >You glare at the mare on the other side of your desk.

                                            >She squirms in her chair.

                                            >Good.

                                            “So, Ms. Craft. I understand that some orders have sat tied up in the smithy, lately.”

                                            >”Uh, yes ma’am, Ms. Inkwell.”

                                            “It took me some time to track down, since the only lead I had contained nothing but an indication that His Highness was involved. However, no written record can escape my attention for long. I congratulate you, on that note, for having quite comprehensive records. Your doing, or your boss’s?”

                                            >”The head smith doesn’t keep the records, ma’am. Thank you for the compliment.”

                                            >You brighten considerably.

                                            “My pleasure. Back to business. Has your boss told you why he wants Anonymous’ orders held?”

                                            >The mare squirms some more. “No, ma’am. Nor has the Prince. I just know the order stands in perpetuity.”

                                            “You speak quite frankly, for a mare who could land her boss in hot water.”

                                            >She blanched, but continued. “Wasn’t right, how she treated Anonymous, ma’am. Even if she was right about stallions in general. You don’t speak to stallions that way, and his orders have never given us problems before, besides the tight tolerances he demands. If she’s going to get in trouble for that, then let her.”

                                            “You and me, Ms. Craft, will do something about that.”

                                            >The mare stares at you wide-eyed for several seconds, before giving a shallow and rapid nod.

                                            “From this point on, I want all orders of Anonymous’s to be provided as soon as completed. If you stand the desk when he comes around, provide them immediately. If your boss does, and rebukes him, make the delivery yourself when you close up for the day.”

                                            >”All respect, ma’am, but why?”

                                            “Anonymous has shown me plans for a special project for Her Majesty, Princess Celestia herself. As Her Majesties’ chief aide, I will not tolerate any delays to it.”

                                            >Well, you sneaked a peak at a sketch he made.

                                            >Close enough.

                                            >The mare gives you another shallow, rapid nod.

                                            “Excellent. Do you have any questions?”

                                            >”Yes’m. Why aren’t you talking to my boss about this?”

                                            “Several reasons. First, because your boss works diligently and dutifully, for all her attitude. Among His Highness’s many flaws, fulfilling his obligations running the royal household does not number, and that includes staff selection and promotion. This means, however, we cannot question your boss’s loyalty, and as such, we must expect she will report any obstruction of the His Highness’s commands. I wish to avoid that. Should he make such a discovery, things will prove… troublesome.”

                                            >”I can’t do this in secret forever, ma’am. He will find out, through her or not. As you say, he runs the household. You’ll have to answer to him for interfering.”

                                            “Oh, my new friend, you misunderstand. If His Highness has any objections, and brings them to my attention, he must answer to me, not the other way around. That will inconvenience me little, end quite poorly for him, and I will have my way in the end anyhow.”

                                            >The smithy mare is ghostly pale beneath her sandy-colored coat.

                                            “I desire to avoid that. Unnecessary strife between the two halves of the palace, and their respective leaders. I suspect whatever problem His Highness has with Anonymous comes down to a matter of business between stallions, and we should handle it as such. To state it explicitly; work around it and give it as wide a berth as possible”

                                            >The mare sighs in relief and nods. “Yeah, I know how colts can be. Understood, ma’am.”

                                            “I only concern myself with seeing Anonymous’ work for Her Majesty completed in an expedited manner. I greatly appreciate your support in this endeavor.”

                                            >”Yes’m.”

                                            “Very good. I shall let you return to your duties. If any problems arise, please let me know immediately.”

                                            >The mare stands from her chair and bows her head to you. “Thank you. Ms. Inkwell.”

                                            >You return the gesture as best you can from behind your desk, and watch her as she leaves.

                                            >What’s with everypony bowing to you, lately?


                                            * * *


                                            >Interruptions have a habit of multiplying.

                                            >At least this time when Anon bursts into your office, he’s wearing proper footwear.

                                            “Hello, Anonymous. What can I do for you?”

                                            >He waves a small, shiny tablet around as he storms up to your desk.

                                            >”Can I plug this into someone’s brain?”

                                            >You blink several times in confusion.

                                            “Elaborate?”

                                            >”It’s got a camera, a microphone, a speaker. It can see, hear, and talk. Can I get it to do that for a pony?”

                                            “I cannot think of a reason why you would want to.”

                                            >”Come on, I’ve seen ponies with prosthetics before. So what if one goes blind, or deaf? Is there some way I can use this to let them see or hear?”

                                            >You’re a glorified librarian and secretary. This is definitely not your forte.

                                            “From my limited knowledge of magical theory, I do not see a reason why not.”

                                            >He doesn’t seem satisfied with this answer.

                                            “Her Serene Highness, Princess Twilight Sparkle could better answer your question. I have done little studying on magecraft. Do you not normally work with her, at this hour?”

                                            >”Do you belt out that whole title every time you talk about her?”

                                            “I usually shorten it to ‘Her Highness’ after the first time, unless required by protocol. You have not answered my question.”

                                            >He sighs and runs a hand through his mane. “Well, normally, yeah. But I can’t now. Something, uh, something has, er, come up.”

                                            >You frown, then gesture to the seat in front of your desk.

                                            “Please. I have some time.”

                                            >He looks like he’s about to refuse, then sighs again and collapses into it. “Yeah, I was, until a few minutes ago. I kinda pushed her magical ability. She’s resting in my room, and I can’t do any work until she recovers.”

                                            >Bullshit.

                                            >Anon’s a poor liar.

                                            >Not that calling him out on it will get you what you want to know.

                                            >No use making the obviously troubled stallion defensive.

                                            “You seem in a hurry. Can it not wait until she recovers?”

                                            >”It’s, uh, well I want it to be a secret. I was going to, until...” He trails off, waving a hand in the air vaguely.

                                            “Anon, before I can help you, I need you to speak with precision.”

                                            >”I don’t know if she wants me to tell anyone.”

                                            >Ah. That. You allow yourself the slightest of smiles.

                                            >It seems Twilight can be decisive, when she wishes.

                                            “I assure you, I take Her Highness’s confidence very seriously. If you decide it is not for me to hear, I will not complain. However, I promise nothing will leave this room without your or Her Highness’s consent."

                                            >”She, uh, she admitted to me. Uh. Sorry. She, I guess, confessed?”

                                            “Confessed what?”

                                            >”That she was into me. I think.”

                                            >He puts his head in his hands. “The fuck is even happening today. First Luna, and now this.”

                                            >He looks up at you suddenly. “Shit, I didn’t say that. You didn’t hear that.”

                                            “I will endeavor to un-hear that Her Majesty, Princess Luna also adds to your concerns.”

                                            >“Yeah there you go with the titles again. Fucking royalty. Shit, I shouldn’t think about that right now.”

                                            “Amusing. Anon, while very interesting, I do not see how this development is problematic. Might you not return her affections?”

                                            >”I don’t even know. About either of them. You gotta understand, I wasn’t the most experienced in these matters, back home. I had a couple flings and that’s that. Hardly qualifies. Then Twilight’s bitching about goddamned timing and Luna’s going to kill me and eat my heart or something ‘aggressive’ and holy hell I’m just a lost human, how do I even respond to this?”

                                            “Generally the mare initiates. If you speak truth, let them initiate.”

                                            >”See, that’s backwards, back home. Which is part of my confusion here. Besides, Twilight’s bummed because she can’t, for some weird social reason to do with Luna.”

                                            >Oh, the mare’s a sweetheart, tragically so. Can’t even upset the social hierarchy for love.

                                            “Then I think you should let your heart guide you. Whatever happens, at least you can be content you never lied to yourself.”

                                            >”That’s the best piece of useless advice I’ve ever heard.”

                                            “I try to give advice excelling in all respects. Uselessness represents another category in which it can be superlative.”

                                            >”You’d have me laughing if I wasn’t so fucking confused.”

                                            “Yes, it is confusing.”

                                            >He gives you a very strange look, before shaking his head. “I guess it can’t hurt to see what happens. I do really enjoy her company. She sounded pretty adamant that it wouldn’t work, probably because this weird waiting thing. Well, fuck that. I’ll do what I want, and if I find what I want is, I don’t know, her? Then I’ll do- wow this sounded a lot better in my head.”

                                            “Your creative talent lies in artisanship, not poetry.”

                                            >”Tell me something I don’t know.”

                                            “If you insist. Her Highness convinces herself of silly notions time to time, about what she can and cannot do. I would trust how she says she feels over what she says is possible. Her Highness too often shackles herself to rationality, even if it seems rational only to Her Highness and none other.”

                                            >He points a finger at you. “That… actually makes perfect sense. And you’re right, I didn’t know it. You’re good.”

                                            “I try.”

                                            >He stands up and turns to your door. “I know she’s going on a long trip in a couple days, maybe she can work things out for herself while she’s gone. We’ll see what happens after then. I think I just needed someone to talk to. Thanks.”

                                            “Any time, Anon. My door remains open.”


                                            * * *


                                            >You’ve finished the day’s work, but remain seated at your desk.

                                            >Anon’s timing was too poor, considering the predicament he found himself in.

                                            >That means he likely slipped in his schedule, which meant…

                                            >Your door opens slowly.

                                            >Princess Celestia stands there, looking chagrined.

                                            >You stand and bow your head.

                                            “Your Majesty.”

                                            >”Raven, I haven’t seen Anon all day. Do you know where he might be?”

                                            “Yes, Your Majesty. Anon had a critical issue he needed to attend to. I do not know how long it would take him to resolve it – this admittedly complicated issue seems to confuse him more than most – but I suspect that he may even now still work at it. It depends on what course of action he decided on.”

                                            >She walked into your office and closed the door behind her. “You know how to say so little with so much. Where is he?”

                                            >You walked over to the door yourself, and put a sound dampening barrier across that whole wall.

                                            >As usual, for your Princess’s private audiences with you.

                                            “His workshop, Your Majesty.”

                                            >She sits in one of your chairs.

                                            >You place yourself in one opposite her, and get comfortable.

                                            >”Is something wrong up there?”

                                            “If something has gone wrong, I expect Her Serene Highness is there to help him.”

                                            >Celestia narrows her eyes. “And if she isn’t?”

                                            “Then I fear his problem may become ours as well, soon enough.”

                                            >”Ah, one of those. And if the Princess of Harmony cannot handle it herself...”

                                            “One can assume the problem involves Her Highness in a disharmonious way, yes.”

                                            >Celestia smiles. “My once-student has a habit of finding trouble for herself, doesn’t she?”

                                            “Your Majesty, you had sent her away specifically to find trouble. We both know how eagerly she seeks to satisfy your expectations.”

                                            >”Too true. It figures our eccentric emissary is making the trouble for her.”

                                            “More than just Her Highness.”

                                            >She tilts her head. “Oh?”

                                            “Your Majesty wouldn’t be here if Your Majesty was not troubled.”

                                            >She looks mildly offended, but she has a gleam in her eyes. “What if I wanted to relax?”

                                            “Your trouble involves relaxation?”

                                            >She laughs at this. “Yes, my dear friend. The past few days we’ve been retiring to our wing in the main library, instead of our private tower. Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve had someone to just relax with?”

                                            “Yes, Your Majesty, considering you do so only with me, as now, or with your sister and her six occasional guests. I have the records for the latter's every visit, and the former I know personally, obviously.”

                                            >”Well, he’s got me thinking back to when I was younger. You know, if I was now the pony I was then, I don’t think we’d have ever gotten along. I was a bit of a rebel, and wanted little to do with the trappings of power. And you’re so formal and regimented.” She laughs again.  “Can you imagine what we’d be like?”

                                            >You bow your head to her.

                                            “I consider fate most kind for ensuring our lives crossed only when we would be amenable.”

                                            >”And if anypony heard you talk to me like that in private, instead of in court, they’d think us cold.”

                                            “Force of habit.”

                                            >”I know.”

                                            >You two smile at each other, and just…

                                            >Sit.

                                            >This, you know, is the kind of friendship Celestia values.

                                            >She has enough ponies she could talk to if she wants conversation. A true friend knows that sometimes words aren’t necessary. Sometimes simply being is enough.

                                            >From what she’s said about Anon, you suspect this is how he found his way close to her, as well.

                                            >You and he are as superficially opposed as you are secretly alike.

                                            >You’re glad Celestia has more than just you, now.

                                            “Your Majesty, Anon’s life may become quite convoluted, soon. In no small part due to fellow royals. You may want to take stock of what he means to you.”

                                            >Her smile is more reserved, and a touch sad, this time. “I am content to wait and see, Raven. Patience is something I have in abundance.”

                                            “Then, for my own curiosity, I shall rephrase it as a question. What does Anon mean to you?”

                                            >She chews on this question a bit. “He doesn’t know what he wants, Raven. He’s still trying to figure everything out. Twilight’s swept up in his craft and nominally innocent mannerisms. My sister has found someone who knows even a sliver of what she’s gone through – and trust me, realizing that hurt me, a bit. These, I think, were inevitable. He’s a perfect storm of circumstances, aimed right at this very palace.”

                                            “Your Majesty, only one pony has given me straightforward answers today, and she left my office many hours ago. What about you?”

                                            >“I’m less interested in what he is, and more in what he can be, Raven. But, if you insist on a straightforward answer, I am interested.”

                                            >You draw yourself up, at this.

                                            “Interested beyond merely academic?”

                                            >”He doesn’t treat me like a princess. Where he came from, princesses were irrelevant. Isn’t that fascinating? I’ve finally met someone who can see through that. The only other stallions who interact casually are my old friends, and none of that latter group is very compelling. Something about ancient familiarity makes for good friends and bad lovers. And I mean no offense to you of course, you’re overly respectful at all times. But you’re the only one that never bothers me from, because that’s who you genuinely are.”

                                            “Then I am glad he came into Your Majesty’s life. Now two can treat you genuinely. But have you spoken to him about this?”

                                            >”Oh absolutely. Do you know what he did?”

                                            >You shake your head.

                                            >”He’s the one who dragged me down to the library. Can you believe that? He told me what to do! Then when we get down there, he just goes back to books. He doesn’t even like reading, not like Twilight, he just does it because it’s something to do. I took a nap, right there in the private reading room. When his phone woke me up to attend our meeting, he’d hardly moved.”

                                            “Fascinating.”

                                            >”More than you could know. Don’t you see? He reads because he’s bored, Raven. But the books are enough. No, the books are just to fill the time. I am enough. Even if I were to disregard his presence completely – which I have done, many times, in that span during which he alone accompanies me – he remains by my side. Not out of respect, for he has little of that, but something deeper. He genuinely cares, Raven, and if I didn’t know where he came from better, I’d call it devotion.”

                                            “If not that, then what?”

                                            >She looks away from you, out the large window behind your desk. “I don’t know. But I intend to find out.”

                                            >When she looks back, she has another of her gleams in her eyes. “And I intend to enjoy it.”


                                            * * *


                                            “Someone’s fucking with me.”

                                            >Twilight looks at you as you drop the box of talon parts on the table.

                                            >”Why do you say that?”

                                            “Those motors we assembled earlier?”

                                            >You gesture to the neat row of them along one side of the desk.

                                            “I found their parts sitting outside my door yesterday evening. No explanation, after all this time with it tied up. Now when I go down there, the mare at the desk was more than happy to hand this over right away. Totally different mare than usual, but I don’t think the smithy staff has changed at all. So, I say again, someone’s fucking with me.”

                                            >”But who would do that?”

                                            “Blueblood, I think. From my preliminary investigation I mean. I need to confront him sometime, before something weirder happens. I’m pretty sure he’s telling ponies to stop working with me. Well, except today, I guess. I don’t even know.”

                                            >”I could-”

                                            “No. Don’t. I want to handle it myself. I just haven’t had the time lately.”

                                            >She stares at you, her head just barely visible over the edge of the box from where you stand. “If you insist.”

                                            “I do. But with these pieces, we should have everything. You ready?”

                                            >”Lay it all out.”

                                            >You start unpacking the box.

                                            >One ring, about the size of your own palm, with teeth on the outside.

                                            >Pieces to make an assembly for the back of the hand, including a smaller, thicker ring with many holes around its edge for wires.

                                            >Finally, a series of smaller pieces, combining to form a single talon of the claw.

                                            >This last set glowed magenta, and soon three duplicate pieces sat beside it.

                                            “Here, lets make this fun.”

                                            >You take out your phone and put it on the benchtop, flipping to its stopwatch.

                                            “How fast can you assemble one?”

                                            >Twilight grins at you as you remove the now-empty box from the table, then her magic’s glow extends to all the frame pieces and half the motors on the table.

                                            >When they lift off its surface, you hit the stopwatch.

                                            >In that magenta field, all the parts align in a configuration similar to the final assembly.

                                            >Then the entire formation contracts. Every single motor slots into place at once, followed by every frame piece locking into place with each other in one fluid movement.

                                            >The few fasteners required outside the tabs and slots slip into place from every direction at the same time.

                                            >The now fully-assembled talons float back down to the tabletop.

                                            >It takes you a moment to react.

                                            “Heh.”

                                            >”What?”

                                            “Poetry in motion.”

                                            >Twilight smiles, then looks to the tabletop beside you. “So how long did it take?”

                                            >You slap the phone’s screen, but it’s far too late.

                                            “Shit, I didn’t stop it. Too lost in what you were doing.”

                                            >She laughs, then shakes her head. “Seriously, Anon.”

                                            “Your work’s just that beautiful. Now I gotta complete all the connections. That’ll take a lot longer than your magnificent display.”

                                            >As you flip your new soldering iron on, she comes around the table to your side.

                                            >”That’s fine. Human magic is interesting.”

                                            “It’s not magic, it’s electricity to make heat, melting metal.”

                                            >She nudges your thigh with the side of her head, prompting you to tousle her mane.

                                            >”It’s your hands, Anon, how sure you are when you use your tools. It’s magic when you do it.”

                                            >The two of you had designed this test article with accessibility in mind, and doing all the electrical work while it was fully assembled had been the plan from the beginning.

                                            >It had been years since you needed to solder anything, so you had to reacquaint yourself with best practices, on top of getting the hang of a handmade iron.

                                            >You only burnt yourself twice!

                                            >Twilight continued to prove useful, able to hold wires to parts, either at any angle needed, while you worked with your iron and solder.

                                            >After around an hour, the completed piece sat on the table, connected to a power pack you made the night before.

                                            >An open socket on the back of the hand is exposed, surrounded by a ring of wire ends.

                                            “Alright, ready when you are.”

                                            >Twilight telekinetically inserted a small crystal into the center of the ring, to be the focus of the spell.

                                            >You kick your stool out of the way to crouch beside her, so you’re looking at the claw from the same angle she is.

                                            “Alright, just to be safe, lets go over what happens if we messed up.”

                                            >”If your connections are bad, some motors won’t work, that’s simple enough. The portion of the spell controlling the motors extends only to the surrounding ring; it’ll just be magically connecting the motors with the power source, and determining how much power is transferred, based on what I tell it mentally. If my magic’s bad, some position feedback won’t work, and we won’t recognize that until I try to use it.”

                                            “There’s no risk of messing up the thing letting you control it mentally?”

                                            >She gives you a flat look. “I’ve cast spells that use that connection many times, Anon. It’s one of the most fundamental spells in advanced magic. Flying tortoise, remember?”

                                            “Yeah, yeah, just making sure. What if our design was wrong? What happens if it, uh, gets a mind of its own?”

                                            >”If we overestimated our connection limits? The core of its identity will be formed by the caster’s ideas of what it is. So if we leave it, it’ll try to do... hand things? Grabbing objects, moving them, stuff like that. Something this complex would need to learn how to work itself, so we’ll have plenty of time to stop it.”

                                            “No danger to you, through the link you make with it?”

                                            >”If it gets a life of its own, that link will fail to form in the first place. Scholars still debate on why that happens; this isn’t a very popular field, due to how complex the spell is, and many mages are reluctant to study failure modes. The current leading theory is the mental bridge is tangled and ineffective due to the sheer number of control channels needed; this process may be how it gets its own mind in the first place. What this has to do with the intelligence-boosting effects on magically saturated animals is still in question, it’s just known they’re related.”

                                            “As long as you’ll be fine, I’m happy. I got my scare out of your magic yesterday.”

                                            >You wrap an arm around her midsection, pulling her close to you to steady her. If the spell took too much out of her again, you’d be ready.

                                            >She turns her head away from you, though. “Anon, I told you it’s too soon for… this degree of familiarity. I should wait.”

                                            “Does it make you happy when I do?”

                                            >”Well, yes, but-”

                                            “That’s enough for me.”

                                            >She snorts at this, then returns her attention to the claw. Her horn starts glowing, as does the crystal inside the claw’s central socket. She closes her eyes, and you can hear her breathing faster. Then, suddenly, she stops.

                                            >You look away from her to the claw. The crystal in the center now emits a very faint golden glow.

                                            >As you’re watching it, the tip of one talon twitches.

                                            “Oh shit, you did it! We did it!”

                                            >You squeeze her tighter to you with the arm around her, while grabbing the claw with your other hand.

                                            >She turns in your grip to hug you back, drawing your attention down.

                                            >Her eyes are shining, matching her huge smile. “I told you it’d work.”

                                            “Yeah, yeah you did. I should know by now not to doubt you.”

                                            >She laughs. “I’d appreciate that.”

                                            “You said this crystal was too small to hold any magic reservoir, right?”

                                            >”Yes, so we will have to recast the spell when it runs down. It wasn’t that difficult though. Shouldn’t be a problem.”

                                            “Alright, here, let me put it on.”

                                            >You gently grab her closer wing, which she helpfully extends. Threading the claw’s thin straps between her feathers carefully, you eventually cinch its base against the end of the limb.

                                            “Try it?”

                                            >”I’m still trying to get the hang of it, give me a minute.”

                                            >She’s only moving one of the talons, testing different angles and orientations. You watch it track around the claw’s main ring, rotating into an opposed position then to the other side of the row of digits, and back to its starting position again.

                                            >As she’s working on learning how it works you study her wing.

                                            “Hey Twilight, can you teach me about how this thing works? I’ve been thinking of artificial body parts lately as a natural next step from these hands, but I don’t know how these wings work. Back home, the wings humans made for vehicles were fixed in place, and just dealt with lift passively.”

                                            >She furrows her brows while focusing on the claw, but her voice doesn’t sound strained when she answers you. “They generate lift in what I imagine is a similar manner, for one. The secret is in the feathers, obviously. Remiges – these wing feathers – have a couple special properties. The last segment of the wing’s core limb, the bit you strapped this claw to, the biggest feathers coming off that are the primaries. Each one can be individually positioned. Pegasi have incredible ranges of motion with them, so you’ll see them use them for non-flight purposes occasionally, like gestures, or attempting to grasp very light objects. Their motion is important with flight, and lets us do things like change the wing’s shape, increase or decrease drag at certain angles, and so on. The ones closer to my body in that same plane are secondaries, they form a lot of the wing’s lift-generating shape. Unlike the primaries, I can’t move them individually. These feathers are covered by the smaller tectrices on top that help fill out the shape and smooth airflow, which would be involved in the lift generation you mentioned.”

                                            >She’s able to move all four talons at once now, and is running through different grip configurations, though every once and awhile your prodding elicits a flinch that interrupts her practice. “How did humans make flight work with fixed wings? How did you take off?”

                                            “You could think of it like getting a running start. Get moving fast enough for the lift to carry you off the ground; we had engines that generated the thrust for that on their own, things that worked a bit like giant fans. Well, for propellers, at least. Jets were more complicated. It’d be wrong to say the wings were entirely fixed; wings had flaps that could change their shape, but they never actually flapped like yours, at least.”

                                            >You think on the problem more as you watch her work the claw.

                                            “Honestly, I think rotors might be better for artificial wings, but they’d only work in a matching set. I’m going to need some notes on anatomy, things like body width, neck length, and head range of motion. Can’t have tiltrotor ponies decapitating themselves. I’m sure you got some information on that in your library.”

                                            >”They’d lose some body language pegasi look to, without primary feathers. And it’d be hard to fold the wings with the big rotor blades.”

                                            “Nah, we can kill two- okay, that’s not a great turn of phrase. We can solve both those problems with a single solution; back home we had helicopters that could fold their rotor blades. If the user can control blade positions individually through their whole range, that should solve both problems. Think three blades would be enough?”

                                            >“For the basics, yeah. Foldable rotors. Human technology is incredible.”

                                            >She squirms out of your arm and turns her side to the table, extending her wing out over it. It takes her some time to get her extended wing in a good position, but she eventually gets the claws near some of the motors slated for the other of the claw’s pair. Slowly, and delicately, she closes the talons around one motor.

                                            >When she tries to lift it, the motor slips out of her grasp.

                                            >She grits her teeth and tries again.

                                            >She doesn’t get the motor off the table until her fourth attempt.

                                            >You’re hiding a grin behind one hand.

                                            “There you go! You weren’t kidding when you said it’d take practice.

                                            >”Shut up.”

                                            “Hey, I’m not making fun of you. I suppose it would take some time to learn how to use an unfamiliar appendage. You got the hang of that way faster than I’d thought.”

                                            >“It’s easier with the kinesthetic feedback, you were smart to design for that. All feedback’s working, by the way. It’s a little strange trying to grab something with no tactile feedback, though.”

                                            “That would require a significantly more complex design, one I’m not sure how we’d implement. Even if we could provide the technological basis, that’d still put us way over the control limit. Practice and a little knowledge of what you’re grabbing should suffice. Just don’t crush anything.”

                                            >”Easier said than done, I think. I’ll learn.”

                                            >You look at her fiddling with small parts on your desk, tongue-tip sticking out slightly with her concentration.

                                            >She is, you realize, just as adorable as when you first saw her, even after you’d stopped thinking of her as similar to cute animals from back home.

                                            >Something about how she approached things, her earnest enthusiasm, her dedication to learning, and her interest in just about every skill you valued in yourself.

                                            >She better give it all a good think, once she leaves for the Crystal Empire tomorrow. Damn her dumb timetables. Maybe this could work out after all.