Trying to get in to see Mage Faust (former Dean of Spirit) turned out to be difficult, since the Korv mage was nursing a hangover and not in the mood to see anyone. That left finding Mage Stebbins.. or Stubbons.. in the Library. The ancient library monitor required the use of a listening horn, and shouted everything. "WHO? OH.. LOOK IN THE BACK STACKS. WHERE IT'S DARK!"
"The Colllege is always an interetsing place. Maybe I should send recruits here for training, ask them to find someone without losing their mind," Tasha murmurs to herself as she and Tashly make their way through the library. Ancient but but greatly renovated after the damage it took during the onset of the Coalition War, she still remembers hearing about the fires. But there are no fires now, and so her nose twitches as she tries to scent a Naga beyond the smell of leather, parchment, ink and stranger things.
There are few students still.. but they're all napping for whatever reason. The Library is warm and cozy though. The Rephidim campus just doesn't have the same student body it once did, mostly occupied by research mages and those working on Rephidim. It's rumored that some of the fancier dormitories can be rented out though. The reptilian scent of a Naga does lead the pair into a rather dark section, which doesn't make much sense since light is generally needed for reading.
Tasha considers the situation, yet she knows being who operate without impairment in the deepest of darks. She wonders if the Naga might be blind, or perhaps has some affinity with low-light conditions. Unfortunately she does not have an affinity for low-light condititions and must eventually move by feeling her way around. "Hold on to my tail Tashly, lets not step on anything -- or anyone -- they might make us pay for," she whispers behind her.
"Or I could wait out in the light?" Tashly says.. after holding on to Tasha's tail and following her. As Tasha's eyes adjust, she does see a light of sorts around a corner. And sure enough.. there's a ghostly floating eyeball hovering above a diamond-backed Naga's head, apparently reading a book.
"Oh, there we go," Tasha says as much to herself as to Tashly. "See? Spirit reading in the dark, it's about what you'd expect. I'd not heard of being able to read through spirits, but it makes sense to me." She brushes herself off and sets a smile on her face, turns back and gives Tashly a reassuring smile, then she steps forward.
"Mage Steubbons?" The hybrid inquires, looking at first to the mage and then directly at the hovering eye.
There's a rattling sound from the Naga's tail, and the eye turns around to look at Tasha, but not the head. "Yess, I am Mage Steubien," the Naga replies.. in a rather odd Gallisian accent of all things. It still has a hiss to it of course. "Am I being summoned?"
Having met all kinds, Tasha adds Mage Steubien to her list of odd and interesting people with likely equally interesting stories to tell. As she mentally files the information away she answers, "Yes, though largely by myself. I am Pilot-Cadet Aldera Tasha Argentine of the Joint Expeditionary Force of Abaddon. I just completed my Life physical and have been directed to you for my Spirit physical. I can provide details as needed."
"Ssspirit Physical?" the Naga asks, and actually lowers its book to turn and face Tasha. The serpent's eyes have been replaced with faceted glass orbs. "How appropriate. We mussst go to my laboratory. Is your friend also to be examined?"
"Tashly?" Tasha glances back at her sister -- a title she's still working out in her head -- and then shakes her head. "No, she's just here to 'make sure I come home,' which I suspect is my my mother's plot. Her name is Tashly." She steps aside to allow the mage to pass, examining both her and the floating eye as both pass.
"You are females?" the Naga asks as it slithers by. Tasha can now see that it's of the four-armed variety, although the lower pair looks severely underdeveloped. Its rattle also tends to go off a lot, which certainly doesn't help Tashly's nerves from the way her grip on Tasha's tail tightens.
Tasha pauses now and then to stop and pat or smile at Tashly, whose nervousness she finds endearing. "She's very competent, I can tell," Tasha tells her at one point. "You have to look past any strangeness of body to the mind. To the person."
"Yes, we're females," Tasha then answers, albiet belatedly. "Tashly's a Khatta and I'm a Vartan-Karnor hybrid -- yes that one if you're familiar with me -- with interesting spririt elements. Another mage believes I may have a 'body spirit.'"
"You are a hybrid?" the Mage asks, now that they're clear of the library and heading towards a nearby building. In daylight, the floating eyeball is a lot more transparent, but it's still looking at Tasha.. well, one is. It split in two so that one could be looking ahead along the path. "Interesssting."
"A lot of people think so," Tasha agrees, although she herself has only gained an appreciation for it recently. Until then she was of the decidedly 'againt' crowd. "I like your eyes. All of them. The crystalline ones remind me of my old ship captain, he also has a artistic glass eye. The hovering eyes tell me something new about spirits."
"Why did he he replace his eye?" Steubien asks as they reach a rather small building. It looks like it might have been for storage originally, as the inside is very bare, with exposed beams and rafters. It's main piece of furniture, aside from some tables and shelves, is a padded bench of sorts.
"I thought he lost it somehow, but I can't be sure. He never told me. Captain's secrecy and I wasn't-" Important enough. " ... highly ranked enough to dar ask." Once inside, Tasha pauses to look around but isn't surprised at the bare furnishings and lack of decoration given the mage's circumstances.
"I keep mine in a jar.. somewhere," the Naga admits, gesturing towards some shelves with a normal-looking appendage. "Please remove all items of clothing.. are you wearing clothes? It is hard for me to tell at times. Once you have removed them, if they exist, lie on the bench in as comfortable a position as you can manage." The Naga then goes about collecting things, probably for a ritual.. but often puts them back after determining they aren't what it was actually looking for.
"May as well have a seat somewhere out of the way, Tashly." As for Tasha, she makes her way to a corner and begins stripping down. The barren, out of the way office is a far cry more comfortable an examination area than the brightly lit office -- and gods forbid -- the auditorium. After divesting herself of her clothes and things, she pats the floor next to the pile to help Tashly find a place to sit, then makes her way to the bench.
Tasha decides to lay down on her side, which keeps her wings away from the mage to avoid unfortunate trampling accidents. Her head is proped on her hand. "Done and ready."
"Excellent," the Naga hisses, then presents two cups relatively close to Tasha's face. "Which of these smells the most purple to you?" It doesn't help that one if full of green fluid and the other full of orange fluid.
Thinking it must be some sort of magical test rather than a straightforward literal one, Tasha sniffs them both and then points at -- then reaches over to tap -- the green one. "This one," she adds, trying to feel out the limits of the mage's senses for future reference.
The Naga goes back to a table and sets the mugs down, then returns with a tuning fork. Once it's set going, the Mage asks, "What does this taste like to you?"
"Do you want me to actually taste it?" Tasha then asks, amazed at her own newfound patience for all things magical -- and slightly disturbed by how she's beginning to 'get' the process. This is terribly un-Vartan of me, she thinks conspiratorially, finding the idea amusingly naughty in a dark sort of way. "Or just taste it at a 'distance'?"
"I am establishing a baseline of your senses and their interactions," the Mage explains in its odd accent. "Listen to the tone. Let your memory find an association with food. Tell me the flavor."
It's just a neutral tone.. one that is not heard normally. But Tasha has heard lots of unnatural tones before.
"Well I can hear it. It sounds very, um, neutral if tones can sound neutral. I'd associate neutralness with something bland, like water. The fresh air of Sinai, or these days, the smell of iron and rust. But cleaner. A clean room on these worlds. So not the food but the location where food might be eaten," is Tasha's answer.
"Your neural crosstalk is minimal then," Steubien suggests. "Your brain may be more Jupani-Karnor than Vartan. Vartans are less scent-oriented and more audio-visual. Do you have any color blindness that you are aware of?"
"Not that I know of. My doctors haven't mentioned any, anyway, and they're not the kind of people to leave things out," the hybrid woman answers. She then scoot-scoots to shift her weight, moving it to a different section of her hip.
Something then occurs to Tasha, given the sort of mapping in progress. "I've been exposed to a number of non-standard, well, unusual colors and sounds. I may have senses that go beyond what people normally have or extend them. I've been exposed to colors that don't exist in our reality. I can picture them, but I've only seen them in one place. The sounds are also form very unusual situations."
The tuning fork is replaced, and the Naga pulls a cork from a bottle and takes a swig of it. After putting the bottle down, it just.. stands still for several moment, then erupts into a brief flurry of spasms. Once those pass, it returns to Tasha. "This may feel odd. Try to remember any specific odd sensations. If your experiences have caused spirit trauma, I should be able to tell." With that, the Naga starts feeling around Tasha's face and skull with its primary, normal hands.. and then reaches into Tasha's flesh with its mutant looking ones. Tasha can feel the hands inside of her.. and they don't always feel like she expects they should.
The hybrid woman sucks in a breath, but steels herself. Inwardly she repeats the many trials she's been through and the need of all doctors and experts to gain menaingful data through testing and so she pushes on, determined not to show more discomfort than she absolutely must and certainly not give in to any feelings of distaste or disgust. And so she focuses.
Closing her eyes helps. Tasha gathers her memories, like soldiers in file before her mind's eye. One by one she marks them out for attention: The experience of the stasis world beyond time, exotic colors and a being from beyond. She labels the not-dream, resting in the arms of the Source. Tisiphone and Blackwings are next, then the mention of 'eating spirits' in as much detail -- which is little -- she can provide. She marks them aloud not by description, but just by number. "Experience 1," then "experience 2," and so on so as not to muddy what the mage might feel by providing descriptions that may distract.
The Mage is completely silent. Even the floating eyeball is gone. During the recollection process, there are times when Tasha's face feels different.. usually when the smaller hands are touching a beak while the normal ones are touching her muzzle. This continues as the Naga works down Tasha's body, apparently feeling her 'real body' and 'spirit body' at the same time and noting the differences. It's most pronounced at the hands, and then the legs. Vartans and Karnors have very different leg structures, after all. The Naga also seems to fish around in Tasha's reproductive tract, which also brings up a lot of mixed sensations.
Throughout this effort, Tasha does her best to remain calm and outwardly placid. Only now and then does she twist her muzzle, typically when new areas are explored. Otherwise she tries to cleave towards professionalisim and focus by keeping her mind firmly on each individual memory.
Steubien withdraws its hands, and the floating eyeball appears again. Maybe it's the mage's familiar? "Well.. you are very confused," is the Naga's diagnosis. "You are clearly a birth-spirit-fusion though, which can make you susceptible to spirit influences and grafts."
Tasha's own eyes reappear. She blinks several times, then rolls on to her belly and lays her head down to be more comfortable. "Hearing I'm confused isn't much of a surprise, in and of the interpretations," the young woman admits, her shoulders rolling in a shrug. "It makes sense that a person who was born to outside muteo- ... -spirit? Muetospirit influences would be furtehr vulnerable to them. Hrrumm." She pauses a moment, tapping her nose. "Does that mean graft or influence that is strong enough can supplant the influence of my 'body spirit'?"
"Unlikely, as it is tied to your mental body image," the mage claims. "Also, you are too old. The biological grafts that you have are not originally from yourself, I guess? I do not know why you have wires in your brain, either. I assume you are aware of them."
"Well it's nice to know that certain influences can't hijack my body." Blackwings. "And yes, they're control circuitry for my Titan. I connect my mind to the machine through them and control it as if it were my body." She rubs her nose a moment, then goes on. "The grafts are replacements due to serious injury." Another pause, then she decides the worst of it must be over and shifts to a seated position. "Well, that appears to be everything then?"
"Oh, no, there is more," Steubien notes, tongue flicking out. "I would like to attempt a dissection if you will allow it."
"Normally I prefer to end up in pieces through medal-earning heroic insanity," Tasha admits with a grin as wry as her tone. "But if this will help me, then I won't stop you. I do need to be alive, well, and functioning when I leave here today, however. I have appointemnts to apologize for missing. It will be harder if I'm later and missing pieces." She the turns to Tashly and thumbs towards the door. "This probably going to be unpleasant to watch, do you want to wait outside Tashly?"
"I have no idea what you are talking about," Tashly notes.
"Ah, I do not mean a physical dissection, but a metaphysical one," the mage explains. "Specifically, to examine the flesh grafts and what morphic influences have infiltrated them."
"Oh." Tasha's ears flick, or maybe wiggle. She wonders for a moment if she associates with too many Silent-Ones after the fact. "Well, carry on then!"
The dissection just uses the smaller hands.. which eerily pass through Tasha's skin.. but in the hand and eye grafts she can't feel them, so it isn't clear just what is happening other than that the Naga is taking its time.
While a strange Naga is feeling inside her limbs, Tasha turns to Tashly and gives her a big smile. "Isn't magic fun?" She asks. Then she frowns immediately. "Don't tell my mother I said that."
"Is the Naga a boy or a girl?" Tashly asks Tasha, assuming she would know.
"Don't be rude Tashly," Tasha chdies, though very gently. She then turns to the Naga and peers at her, trying to guage how distracted he or she is. "I'm sure you heard the question, but you don't have to answer. Tashly shouldn't have asked."
"I have never bothered to find out," Steubien claims.
Tasha bites her lip. It horrifies her on a very personal level, her identity tied so much with her gender -- that she also enjoys sex is not exactly a secret either. Swallowing, she smiles and nods as understandingly as she can. "Well, there's your answer Tashly."
"It's actually not an answer.." Tashly comments.
"Make a fist with your left hand please," Steubien tells Tasha.
As Tasha does so she shakes her head at Tashly. "It's still rude, Tashly," she insists. Big sister or lover or what-ever-she-might-be, the hybrid woman has decided she's going to help the Khatta find happiness and a future -- and that means educating.
"Now, close your eyes and spread all of the digits on your right hand," the mage requests next. "Then, do the same with your left hand."
In short order the gestures are complete. "Do you have any other questions, Tashly?" By her tone, the emphasis is on the constructive.
With its normal hands, the Naga touches each of Tasha's fingers in turn, on both hands, simultaneously. Except that when it gets to the right hand's pinky, it just taps the last talon on the left hand a second time. "How many fingers do you feel on each hand?"
"As many as are there physically, seven fingers and two thumbs. You tapped my end most talon twice," Tasha answers, albiet somewhat distractedly as she splits her attention.
"Hmmm, interesting," Steubien notes. "How long have you had these grafts for, and how long were you without use of the originals?"
"How can his.. her.. how can the mage's hands pass through you like that?" Tashly asks next.
"My second pair of limbs are imaginary," Steubien explains to Tashly, even though they look quite real. "So, Tasha, you were injured, then unconscious, then woke up with the replacement tissue already fully formed?"
"Yes, that's right," Tasha replies. To Tashly she explains, "Her limbs are probably amde from the same 'substance' as her eyes, which is probably a shifting form of standard matter created by modifying base reality so that they appear physical on our level of reality. That's the proposed basis of Sifran technological manipulation of reality and thus the expression of all Sifran derived magic."
"They are phantom limbs," Steubien notes, which at least seems simpler to Tashly. "I lost the real ones when I was younger, which is why they remain the same size as when I was a child. Tasha does not seem to have a phantom hand, however. Her body-spirit simply does not exist in the new flesh. As a result, the Vartan spirit graft may gain control over them in time."
Tasha turns back to the mage and nods. "Does that mean my Vartan hand will remain Vartan, then?"
"No," the mage notes. "But while it is Vartan, the part of you that is most Vartan may gain control over it, especially when your primary consciousness is turned off. That is, the Vartan 'ghost' in your head might take control of it while you are asleep."
This may prompt Tasha to think of Aaron, and his 'wandering' left hand that seemed to have a mind of its own.
"Oh wonderful," Tasha groans, eyes rolling so far they threaten to pop out and roll right in to their won jar where they might at least be safe. "Well, my ghost knows better than to cause too many problems." And then she reaches up and raps on her head with the knuckles of her Karnor hand.
"Does that mean it isn't safe to sleep next to Tasha?" Tashly asks with a bit of alarm.
"Is it normally safe?" the mage asks in reply.
"No," answers Tasha on queue, her muzzle splitting in to a large, toothy smile. She then sticks her tongue out at Tashly and wiggles her ears.
"If you feel the need, sleep on her right side only," the Naga advises, and begins feeling around Tasha again, especially the feathered parts of her face.
"Right side. Sleep on my hand. Got it," confirms Tasha, who turns back to the mage while throwing Tashly a thumbs-up behind her back. "Anything else? And could you write a summary for my doctor after you're done? I hope to use it to bribe two people in to not glaring me in to cinders."
The Naga's face come right in front of Tasha's then, nose to nose (or nose to tongue), the glittering eyes 'staring' into Tasha's. "There is an extra charge for that," the reptile notes, saying 'that' like 'zat'.
Tasha's face falls. "I already have to explain the bill. Gabriel isn't going to be happy with my use of the budget," she admits in a low voice. "Oh well, I'll do the paperwork. Plenty of time on the trip home."
"I do not charge in coin," the mage notes. "But in experience. I wish to fly."
"Oh fine. What sort of magnanimous soul would I be if I didn't take pity on the grounded." Tasha stands up, looking down at herself and then over to Tashly. "Do you want a ride, too? And do you both," she looks between them, "also want ice cream?"
"You misssssunderstand," Steubien says. "I wish to experience flying.. not be carried through the air."
"Oh. You want my memories! That's easy enough," agrees the hybrid, who then reaches up and taps her head with both of her pointer fingers. "Well put your hands on the Tasha Brain Train and hold on."
Steubien hisses. "No, that is not the same," the Naga says. "I need to ride you. Do you understand? You have easy access in this."
"This is getting a bit weird," Tasha notes, fully aware of the weirdness that has been haooening since she got here. This is a new weird. "Can you please explain in detail what you want?"
The Naga waves its head back and forth, almost hypnotically because of the crystal eyes. "I will show you. Please stand up," it says.
"If anything you think I'll regret happens keep it to yourself Tashly. If anything embarassing happens, remember I know wher you live!" Tasha sticks her tongue out again, then stands up and takes a deep breath, exhales, and nods. "I hope I don't regret this. Okay, do your worst."
The Naga coils around Tasha, until its torso is between her wings. Then it wraps its arms over her shoulders, sticks its imaginary arms into her head.. and bites her interface studs, so that one fang is touching against each of them. Things go blurry for Tasha, for a moment anyway, and then it feels as if there isn't a Naga on her back at all. She just has a second, really long tail.
"I feel weird," Tasha complains, ears flattening and expression falling, tone one of confusion and disturbance. "Tashly, is this weird? Does it look like what it feels like?"
"It looks like a Naga is trying to swallow the back of your head," Tashly notes. "If you're going to fly like that.. I'll walk if you don't mind."
"Fly fly fly," urges a voice in Tasha's head.
"Shh, I won't be bossed around by spirits -- living or dead." Tasha awkwardly walks towards her clothes. "I am not going outside naked." She waggles her hand back at the mass she presumes is on top of her. "I get my clothing, then we fly around the campus -- where people expect strange things." She then glances at Tashly and shakes her head. "You see, exploration isn't always about exciting discoveries and adventures. Sometimes it's boring medical examinations and even more uncomfortably embarassing budgetary dodges. Like this one." She points at her head. "Tell no one."
"Clothing interferes," the voice complains. "Can you limit yourself to pants?"
"I've seen your old clothes," Tashly notes, assuming Tasha is talking just to her.
Tasha considers the whole situation for a long moment, then comes to a conclusion:
Her dignity is worth more than saving on some paperwork.
"No, no, get off get off," insist the half-Vartan, waving her hands backwards in a shooing motion. "I have an inage to uphold, and I'm done making a fool of myself around here!"
There more blurriness, and then the Naga mage is back on the ground. "How much do you need to wear?" Steubien asks.
"No, no, no and no," continues Tasha, with flashes of that time she had to clean the truck coming to mind. "I'll write it myself. I have enough embarassing memories of Rephidim, I don't need to give myself less of a reason to come back or to look like a fool when I return and report. I'm sorry, but no." She leans down and rummages through her clothing, then begins to get dressed.
"Will you reconsider?" the Naga asks, with a bit of pleading in its voice. "This will be my only chance. You are unique."
Tasha hunches down with her clothing, having already pit on her undersuit and holding her long tunic in her hands. She closes her eyes and holds the material against her forehead, her expression having fallen in to a kind of stone-faced look of dull pain. "Do I always have to suffer? Do I?" She asks quietly, though it's not clear who she's asking even to herself. Gone is the frentic tone of refusal, gone is the self-deprecating but cheery voice of stoic endurance. Only Tashly knows the voice, because she heard it in the back room of The Fallen Friend. She opens her moth again, but can't seem to find the words to express her situation.
"I ask myself that often," the Naga says. "I cannot sssee the real world. I cannot touch things properly. My losses have enhansssed my spirit senses, but I am still a freak."
"I do not wish to embarrass you though," the mage claims. "I stay to the dark so that others do not have to see me. I understand."
Tasha heaves a sigh, though not out of asnnoyance, just exhaustion. Whatever facade -- real or forced -- she had been wearing since Tashly cheered her up has broken. "No, no it's fine," she says as she rises. She pulls off teh upper part of her undersuit and tosses it aside, then throws on her tunic. "I know what it's like to be a freak. We'll strike a balance, here, this is enough. Shorts and my tunic." She closes her eyes a moment, nodding to herself after a brief internal dialogue where she steadied herself and worked out her issues enough to move forward, and then she points at her back.
"And sometimes, Tashly, it's about doing the best you can for who you have with what you've got, even if that means discomfort. Or worse," Tasha explains at length.
The Naga once more clings to Tasha's back and 'plugs in' via phantom fingers and fang contact. "Thank you," she hears in her head.
"What am I if not the vessel of spirits in need?" Tasha replies. "Wait here Tashly." Turning, the hybrid woman purposefully makes her way out in to the courtyard where she spreads her wings.
Using the expansive campus as a runway -- and needing the extra speed due to the sheer weight -- she builds up momentum until she can finally manage to take to the air.
It's different, due to the tail.. but Tasha soon discovers that she can control it and use it to steer with better than her regular tail.. even if it does make her look like a fanciful kite. There's also other bits of feedback.. since the Naga is a pit viper, it lets Tasha sense heat.. which is important for finding updrafts. The odd spirit-vision overlay on everything adds a glow of sorts. It makes it much easier to know where people are below. Most unexpected though is the sense of thrill - knowing what it's like to fly for the first time. It's not so different than when she first took control of Melchior.
All of this makes for a far more pleasant flight than Tasha had imagined, which largely revolved on a stoic dig-your-heels-and-go sort of affair. It's also immensely educational; these are senses Tasha wouldn't ordinarily possess or even have a grasp of, at best having little more than a guess or else having to use equipment to get the same result.
"I admit, this is more fun than I was expecting. I was dreading it," she tells her unlikely pasenger. "And I'm getting a lot out of your senses. And the thrill! Ah, I'd almost forgotten what it was like." She points down at the ground. "And see? I'd have never noticed that person under the tree, even with my vision, But there they are, spirit and heat where vision fails. I wish I could take you with me, I could find a lot of use for being able to see like this."
"I do not know if my abilities would operate on Abaddon," the Naga replies. "You are used to connecting with another mind and sensorium though. That is why this is possible. But on that world, I would just be blind and crippled."
"But for now, I feel like a dragon. Thank you," Steubien adds.
"Can you teach me how you sense spirits?" Tasha asks, angling to make circles around the campus, which is quiet a ways below now. "Or does that require magical training? And if I can connect, does it go the other way?" She then smiles. ""If you want to impress someone, a dragon is a good choice." You'll have to tell me what it feels like."
"You are feeling it too, right now," Steubien notes. "It is quite a predatory view of things. My abilities are largely a gift of my birth, as compensation for physical failings. I use a spirit to see, so it sees spirits. I learned this after losing my eyes. For you, I would suggest.. meditation. Sensory deprivation if you can achieve it. Shut off all physical senses, and see if you can access metaphysical ones."
"I do know how to meditate, I really should dust that off. My sister would be proud," the hybrid notes. She then wonders why she doesn't feel particularly like a dragon, but an unfortunate implication strikes her as the answer does: She already feels like one and 'dragon' is simply the name Mage Steubien places on the mix of her sense of self and the feeling of merging with her in flight. It must have ben the treasure, she reassurs herself. I can't be a dragon, what kind of dragon slayer is also a dragon? The Archon would laugh at me, if he could laugh. Ear wiggle. "I think we have deperivation facilities back home."
"You should try them, if only to quiet your spirit," the Naga advises. "I am glad you came to me."
"Me too. I will probably regret it when I submit my budget on returning, however." Tasha grimaces. A world away two or more people are fretting about her, now she has to deal with that and then the budget and then prepare for what may be the most harrowing trip of her life -- and possibly the last. "Well, a few more times around the campus. I can't stay up here for too long, between the weight and my recent long disatnce flights I have to be careful I'm not so strained I can't return to Abaddon."
"Would it be too embarrassing to dive bomb some of the students?" Steubien asks, with a hint of mirth.
"As long as I don't have to answer to the Temple," Tasha replies. "I should have brought something to throw!"
An hour and a terrorized student body later, Tasha is back on the ground with her hands on her knees, panting for all she's worth. She tired, worn out, and had entirely too much fun accosting people who are probably under too much stress as it was. She's glad she was able to help another 'freak,' like herself, but now there are two things she wants more than anything:
An ice cream and a bench to rest on.