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"Clowns?" says Victoria, first incredulously to Max, then, to Sohng, "Clowns?"

"Klaonso," says Sohng. "Person sleep, klaon eat sleep person."

"...Well, that's disturbing."
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"And clowns are a type of... 'tlaa', which are... I don't know exactly, they're... monsters? Snake things? She claims that she got sent here when one of them... ate her, or something, I think. Not the clowns, a different thing."

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"Tlaa eat Sohng?" asks Victoria.

Sohng nods. "Tlaa eat Sohng and Pyay - and -" Words fail her, she makes a helpless gesture.

"This is so surreal," murmurs Victoria.
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"The clowns are, as far as I know, not literal clowns. It's just, the word sounds the same. So... I don't know if that makes it any less surreal, actually."

Max turns to Sohng. It's worth asking again. "Song- Song and Pyay, Earth no clowns, Earth no tlaa- Song and Pyay sleep?"
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"No. Sleep! Hour hour hour sleep - no!"

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"How old did you say she was, again?" Trevor asks.

"I don't know, she- we don't know." Max rubs at his temples. "Song- if no hour hour hour sleep... hour hour hour what? Max sleep, Victoria sleep, Victoria's girlfriend sleep... Earth people sleep hour hour hour. What Song and Pyay do hour hour hour?"
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"English," she says, swatting the stack of notes. "Eat. Sohng and Pyay - ah - talk."

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"Max sleep. People sleep. People not teach English, Song and Pyay... alone? Alone, alone, alone means..." He reaches for a piece of paper, and thinks about how to draw "alone".

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She picks up the notes and waves them around. "English, English, Sohng write English."

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"Practice...? I guess that makes sense..."

Trevor groans. "Look, we're going to have to teach her 'fear', or something, obviously. I mean, the word fear, we don't want to scare her. Explain to her why she can't bring the mice."

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"We could leave her in the office, maybe," says Victoria. "If she's not going to sleep the fact that there's nowhere to sleep doesn't matter, does it?"

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"Does that have the same problem as the library? How late does this building close, are there night guards, is it safe to leave her here?"

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"It closes, in a if-you-leave-the-door-locks-behind-you sense, but I've crashed in the office before overnight, nobody gave me any trouble. We can put a sign on the door, studying late, do not disturb."

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"Well! That, uh... solves that, until we can line up something more permanent." Max smiles.

"It doesn't solve that. Not yet. She's gonna have to eat, right? Who's buying her food?"

Max pats his wallet reflexively. He can afford it tonight, but... he doesn't want to set a precedent, since it'd be a strain to be the one buying her food on a regular basis...

"Well... see, the first time she got hungry, I started digging through my pockets for food, and she... that's when I discovered the magic thing, since she just took an apple core and turned it edible using a tiny chunk of... something that looked like a peanut. But... she did ask me for food, which implies that she couldn't just food-ify anything she wanted."

"So we learn her words for food, then ask how doing mweelsrow on food works. That sound right?" Trevor responds.
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"Do you expect to be able to understand a technical explanation of magic...?" wonders Victoria. "No, no, it's worth a try - if I turned things into food, though, I'd want to be sure they were worthless. Maybe she can identify an apple core as trash it's okay to repurpose and is confused by everything else?"

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"I am literally an understanding-things professional," Trevor replies. "But I meant, yes, just asking if she needs specific things to turn into food, or if we can just grab a stack of unused flyers or something as long as we tell her it's okay."

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"Right. Uh, Sohng mweelsrow food?"

"Pyay," corrects, presumably, Pyay. "Pyay muilsroo food. No-muilsroo food good, muilsroo food -" Noncommittal gesture. She digs around in the bag and comes up with what looks like a large crumb. "Food muilsroo?"
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"So... she's saying... mweelsrow- uh, mweelsrooow food... doesn't taste as good? I'm not sure what she's asking, though, and we still don't know if how good it is depends on what the... subject of the mweelsrooow is."

Pyay looks expectant. "Do either of you have... something to give her?"
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"Uh - random junk, random junk -" Victoria rummages and eventually comes up with a broken coffee mug, in two pieces. She offers the pieces to Pyay.

Pyay, in several steps, turns one of the halves into a cracker and her original cracker into ceramic, breaks off two small pieces, puts one away, uses the other small piece to turn the second mug half into cracker, offers Victoria back the extra ceramic chunks, gives the mice one cracker-mug-half and bites into the other herself.
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Max breathes a sigh of relief. His two immediate practical problems have been solved. The next thing he needs to do is find out...

Well, the next thing he needs to do is mail in that Randi Prize application. Then, as regards finding things out... finding out how mweelsrow works, finding out what Kweengow is, finding out how people can move between Kweengow and Earth, finding out if there are other places, finding out how there are other places... he should start making a list.

Trevor, meanwhile, grabs a sizable stack of unused flyers for some theatrical performance from a nearby shelf. "We sleep, you muilsroo paper to food. Not good food, good food..." He peeks at Sohng's glossary. Is there anything in there that looks like it might be "money"...?
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Apparently money has not yet been covered.

"Neeh - no good food," says Pyay, taking the flyers and flipping through them. "Mm -" She makes a small pinching gesture. "No good."
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Trevor groans. "No good? Gah, um... be right back." He leaves the room, presumably to find something usable as food.

Max looks over at the glossary- and indeed, nothing to do with money as far as he can tell. "Pyay- or, Song- in Kweengow, where food? People get food...?"
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Sohng flips through the glossary. "Tree food," she eventually says, "rabbit food, uh..." Handwave, handwave. "Muilsroo food no good, no -" She makes a face, sticking out her tongue. "And, muilsroo bad, food bad, and -" She mimes sickness, clutching her abdomen. "Pyay good muilsroo, but, no muilsroo food good good."

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Max rubs his forehead. "So... we'll need to feed her actual food... and explain money to her, somehow, and... supermarkets? So she knows why getting food is difficult. How do you explain currency to someone who doesn't use it?"

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"We don't know that she doesn't use it," Victoria points out. "We just don't know what she calls it, what it looks like, or the most accessible way to refer to it."

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