Milliways Again

[her_imperial_radiance]

It lurks. Oh how it lurks.

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[prima_sequentem]

"Those look tasty," says Libby.

[her_imperial_radiance]

"I'm going to eat about two-thirds of those if you let me," Orfeo says. "We're talking about practical stuff for when I move. Going pretty okay."

[prima_sequentem]

"I'm hungry. Bella, do you mind if I duplicate your pancakes?"

[self_composed]

"Do it while they're hot," Bella says, serving herself a small stack and drizzling cream cheese icing over them.

[prima_sequentem]

Libby expends a square. A stack of pancakes, slightly larger than Bella's, appears on her plate; it's not immediately obvious exactly which pancakes she copied, but they appear to be selected at random rather than from an existing stack. She handles the icing the old-fashioned way, though.

[her_imperial_radiance]

Orfeo serves himself most of the rest and - ahem - wolfs them down.

"These are really good," he remarks between pancakes eleven and twelve.

[self_composed]

"I pentagoned cooking a while ago," Bella says.

[prima_sequentem]

"I feel like that is somehow unfair," says Libby between bites of pancake four, "and at the same time I can't bring myself to mind."

[self_composed]

"You could do it too, if you wanted," Bella points out. "If it was a priority. I feel iffier about having pentagoned the flute and soccer and interview skills to get into Stanford."

[prima_sequentem]

"See, it's not the cheating I mind," Libby explains, eyes twinkling, "it's the fact that you can do it so much more easily than I can."

[self_composed]

"I give you better than even odds of getting a pentagon for something like cooking from Alice by asking nicely, and way better than even odds of getting one by offering to help him make it in some marginally creative way," Bella says.

[her_imperial_radiance]

"There's an 'Alice' who's a 'him'?" Orfeo asks.

[self_composed]

"Well," Bella says, "he wouldn't mind if I called him a her. I just default to male pronouns except in cases of secretiveness."

[prima_sequentem]

"I'm still entertained by calling her Whistle," Libby admits. "And it seems like he wouldn't mind, but it's hard to get a read on him sometimes. How do you usually explain him, in cases of non-secretiveness?"

[self_composed]

"Usually I don't explain him," Bella admits. "Insofar as he admits explanation, he's self-explanatory if you watch him be himself for long enough. Although maybe I'm biased because I can read his mind. Seriously, bet you twenty asters if you walk up to him and say 'want to try my favorite method for generating pentagons? If I can keep half I'll show you how' he says something that translates as 'yes ma'am please'."

[prima_sequentem]

"I would like it very much if you would un-confuse my wolf," says Libby.

[self_composed]

"Why me? Isn't he your wolf?" Bella asks.

[prima_sequentem]

"Because I couldn't explain Alice if I tried?"

[self_composed]

"Did you even explain coins to your wolf yet? And where they come from?"

[prima_sequentem]

"Coins, yes. Where they come from, no. Wishcoins are made out of pain," she says to Orfeo. "The pain of the person making them, specifically. Which is why, in my experience, most people don't want to be mints."

[her_imperial_radiance]

"That's... uh. Do you... make... a lot of these, then, if you use them to duplicate pancakes?" Orfeo asks, looking at her plate uncomfortably. "That... could... be... challenging?"

[prima_sequentem]

"The kind of coin that will duplicate a stack of pancakes is produced at about stubbed-toe level; it's not a big deal to make them, or I wouldn't spend them so frivolously. More powerful kinds need more, which is why until I met Bella and her inexplicable friend, I didn't use magic very often."

[self_composed]

"My inexplicable friend is a masochist," says Bella sunnily. "And he's, mm, friendly, so while he'd take it as her hitting on him if she offered to help him make a pentagon, it'd result in a yes in my expert estimation."

[her_imperial_radiance]

"And - okay, I'm going to stop thinking about this if that's okay," Orfeo says, eyes flicking up and down Libby as though to confirm that she's probably not hiding any grievous wounds.

[prima_sequentem]

"Of course," she says, patting his arm comfortingly.