The Absurdity of it All (Birdy x Nivvy)

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It wanted him to close his eyes? All of the strange uneasiness about the nature of these creatures came flooding back into his mind. Perhaps he had not been as inaccurate as he thought when he speculated that the creature was simply leading him home for the slaughter. He watched it warily as it moved away from him and towards a different section of the room, but it soon turned to stare at him. For a couple of seconds they stood at an uneasy stalemate, before Aram, for all appearances, closed his eyes. He waited to see if it was going to go for a weapon, but instead the creature only began to shed its outfit. Quickly realizing that this must be a culture where the body was sacred, and not supposed to be fully seen by any but those who owned it, Aram fully closed his eyes. He would not have thought that these people would have such specific customs, considering their general lack of civility.

He kept his eyes closed until he heard the sound of a door opening and closing. Speculating that the creature had left the room it partially opened its eyes again, just enough to get a foggy sense of the room. If it was still in there, hopefully it would understand his desire to open his eyes was only for his own protection, and not for any desire to break its customs. But the creature was not in the room, so Aram opened his eyes the rest of the way. His blood bonds were growing stronger once more, but he desperately needed to replenish his energy with some sort of food. Hopefully that was what the creature had been signaling earlier, and not that it was going to be necessary for him to sacrifice flesh to remain in their nesting space. He would do it, so long as they fed him something other than his own skin immediately afterwords.

The creature returned, surrounded by a smell that was recognizable through all the universe, cooked flesh. It appeared he was not going to be expected to donate anything to these creatures, for which he could not help but feel a modicum of relief. Purposefully having to wound himself was never fun. He once more sat up carefully, before studying the food. It certainly looked odd, and there was going to be no way for him to tell whether or not it was eatable until he actually put it into his body. Then again he had once survived for over a month off of the leaves of the ethep while hiding from some of the Arak, and while he had been at full health in the time there was no creature in the universe that could eat those leaves without suffering some sort of negative side effects. Surely if this creature considered it eatable he would be able to find some sort of nutritional value from it.

He reached out a hand towards the plate, trying to grab a handful of the rather sticky looking food.
 
Samantha's room was average for a girl's chambers. There were only a couple posters plastered over neutral colored walls, and a comfortable-looking queen-sized bed set across from the window that the alien had used to access the room. There was a closet beside the exit, and a dresser beside the bed. Atop the dresser was an antiquated looking boombox, complete with cassette player and disc-changer, and a stack of discs. Beneath her bed, a laptop lay charging by way of the plug that ran to the wall.

She set the plate on the ground between them, and held up a forestalling hand to the creature. "Wait, this food is messy." She held up the spoon in the other, and scooped a bit of cassarole into it's valley before offering the spoon to the alien. "It's also hot." She said, and made a show of blowing on the food. She didn't want her charge burning itself on his food.

She then picked up the fork, and speared a chunk of ham on it, displaying it to the alien as well. "These help keep your hands clean." She said, setting the silverware aside, and holding up her own small, pink hands, free of food to display the point.
 
Aram took the utensil after a moment's consideration, but it was clear that he was only doing it to humor the creature. Where he'd grown up you did not leave food alone long enough to find and use a utensil, and any scrap that was left over on his hands would be cleaned by a swipe or two from his agile tongue. As far as the temperature of the food, well that was even more ludicrous than the creature's desire to keep his hands from touching the food. But Aram took the thing anyways, taking her efforts as they were meant, an attempt to be considerate to something she didn't fully understand. The food was strange, over-flavored to a point that it almost became impossible to tell what was actually in it, and so mushy that a baby could eat it. But its taste did not trigger any alarms, and that was more than sufficient for him.

The only reason that Aram did not clear the whole plate as quickly as possible was because he was uncertain whether or not the creature was intending to share the meal with him. It would be undeniably rude for him to eat all the food, and deny the creature its own sustenance. Judging by the fact that it had only brought up a single serving, it was intending to eat as well. Aram contained his frustration, but cleared just over half of the mush in near record speed, although he would have been a lot quicker about it if he had been allowed to use his hands as they were meant to be used.

He quickly turned his attention to the surface on which the food had been brought up, wondering if it was also a part of the meal. It did not seem to be as mushy as the rest of the food, so perhaps he would be allowed to use his hands for that part? He tapped the thing with a fingernail, quickly breaking off a small chip, before putting it in his mouth. It was hard and rocklike, surprisingly bland compared to the over-flavored mush, but perhaps that was a part of the contrast of the meal.
 
Samantha was awestruck by the alien's eating habits. It practically inhaled the food she'd set before it, at least until it got about halfway through. "Are you full?" She asked, even as it chipped the plate that she'd brought the food up on. She winced. The plates weren't anything fancy. Basic ceramics meant for serving food. Even so, her mother was loath to buy new ones, and the more chips they had, the harder they were to keep clean.

"No no," She said, even as the alien crunched the ceramic. She prodded the food with the fork, nodding expressively, and touching her lips. "Food," She then clinked the fork on the empty half of the plate, shaking her head. "Dish. Eat the food," She paused to take a mouthful of the cassarole, and waited to swallow before again prodding the empty half and shaking her head. "Don't eat the plate."

She let the fork settle once again in the meal, and pushed the whole thing closer to the alien. "Eat," She insisted. "I can grab seconds if I'm hungry."

She twisted about, leaning to throw an arm under her bed, and to drag her laptop closer. She pulled open the lid, and glanced up to the alien. She cleared her throat. "I'll make a shopping run tomorrow, and pick up some groceries. See if there's anything you like to eat in particular, besides momma's plates."
 
Aram quickly took the rest of the food, took a single bite with the spoon, before setting it aside and scooping up the remainder with two hands. He ate quickly, before delicately licking his fingers clean, removing all traces of grease and oil. It was nowhere near enough to replenish the reserves he had lost in the process of healing, and until he was at full strength again he could not really begin the process of assimilation. Until then he was going to be left floundering in this strange world, reliant upon the creature and increasing the weight of his life-debt. He would have to think of a way to repay it soon.

At the very least his translator seemed to be starting to get a hang of the language the creature was speaking. He was able to understand about one word in every five, and while that made it almost impossible to actually understand what it was saying it was at least a step in the right direction. One the translator got a grasp on grammar, the process would go significantly quicker. He would simply have to find a way to keep the creature taking for the rest of the evening.

For now, though, he focused on the food. Apparently the dish upon which the food had been carried was not supposed to be a part of the meal, although it seemed perfectly eatable to Aram. He doubted that he was going to be allowed to eat anywhere near as much as he needed to complete the healing process, but he would take as much as he could. Carefully he picked up the plate in two hands, before offering it to the creature. One of his other hands mimed the motion that it had made with the eating utensil.
 
Again, the girl stared wide-eyed as the alien devoured the last of the food. She supposed that it must need more than she did, considering it's size, and proclivity for surviving what should have killed nearly anything else. When it offered her the empty plate, she set her laptop aside, and took the plate in hand. "Still hungry?" She asked, pushing herself to her feet.

"I'll go get some more."

And out the door she vanished. She was sure to close it behind her, just in case. Down she raced. "Food was delicious, momma, I'm gonna get some seconds." She called as she made her way down the stairs. She piled on more of the hot-dish, and took a few bites for herself, on the way back up to her room. Hiding her alien companion, and feeding it was going to make eating something of a trick. If she started eating enough for three people, her parents were going to get suspicious.

Back to her room she darted, eager to get back to the alien. She settled the plate beside him again, and sat across from it. "My name is Samantha," She said without preamble, touching her chest once again. She pointed at the alien again. "Do you have a name? Something that you are called?"
 
Aram lifted the plate onto his lap, and almost grabbed another handful before he hesitated. The creature had already established that it did not like him eating with his hands, and the desire not to offend it warred with his knowledge that he needed food, and the sooner he got it into his system the sooner he would be able to start assimilating. It was only this hesitation that caused him to pay attention to what exactly the creature was saying. The translator was only able to pick out a couple words in every sentence, but Aram had a good memory. "Samantha" was a sound he had heard before, and he had never heard it used except in context with the creature. Was it trying to label itself?

"Sa-mant-ya." He repeated carefully, even as he was unable to make the proper sounds for her name. His tongue was far too used to the more lilting and flowing language of the Esimians right now to properly emulate this creature's words. Another reason to begin the process of assimilation. Another reason to eat the food in the most efficient manner possible. Settled on his decision, Aram scooped up another handful with bare fingers, before quickly eating it. Not a single piece of the food slipped from between his fingers.

About to take a second handful, Aram suddenly noticed that the creature... Samantha? It was as good of a label as any, he might as well use it for now. Samantha was still trying to speak to him. It pointed to itself, and once more said Samantha. He stared at it, and it pointed at him. There was a moment's silence, before the creature... Samantha... began the process again. Did it want his own label?

He knew some races out there that were petrified by the thought of sharing their labels to others on a whim, as they believed that their soul was directly bound to it. But obviously whatever species Samantha belonged to had no such problem with the sharing of names, and Aram was not one of the superstitious type. He was far too practical for that.

Samantha. Once more the finger pointed to him.

"Aramdalix," he replied, before taking another handful.
 
Samantha's eyes flicked to the plate as the creature began to eat once again. She supposed he could eat however it pleased him to do so, as long as he wasn't spilling food all over the floor, and making a general mess. She practically beamed at him when he tried to say her name. It wasn't perfect, but it was a start. She bit at her lower lip, as it spoke again.

"Aramdalx?" She ventured. She hoped she wasn't missing something horribly important. "Is that your name? Aramdalx?" She pulled her laptop back onto her lap, and began typing on and off.

"Maybe I'm silly for talking at you, but I can't really talk to anybody else about... You. I don't know what folks would do if they found out aliens were real." Her fingers froze. "Oh god, does this mean I'm some sort of interstellar ambassador now? Why yes Mr. President, I'd be happy to represent the people of Earth to our extraterrestrial visitors." She muttered to herself. "Just give me a minute, and I'll show you how to put them back together with a piece of chewing gum, a shoestring, and a paperclip."

She pulled up a series of pictures of aliens on her computer, and studied her charge in comparison. "You sure don't look a whole lot like the aliens most folks are expecting."

She spun the computer around, to show one of the stereotypical big-headed, grey-skinned black-eyed creatures from all of the alien lore of earth. "I think you look cooler than this guy here. The six arms thing is only a little creepy. No offense. How are your wounds holding up?" She asked, touching her chest, arms, and legs in similar places to where the alien had been broken, before pointing to him once again.
 
The food quickly vanished again as Samantha continued to talk. It did not seem like it would take much prompting to get it to chatter on for the rest of the evening. Maybe by tomorrow his translator would be able to build a working grasp of its language. Of course, that would do their efforts in communication only so much good. He would be able to understand it, but without a translator of its own he would still be speaking in Esimi, which it obviously didn't know. But perhaps his ability to understand it would be enough. It had already clearly demonstrated that they did not need language to be able to communicate in the most rudimentary of forms. His understanding should be enough, at least until he was fully healed.

Aram carefully scraped the not-edible food-server clean, before once more licking his hand. Unless the creature was somehow able to up the quantity of food he was getting, Aram estimated it would take him a couple more days before he would be healed enough to start the process of assimilation. And he would need more food during that time to hasten the process. Being caught midway through an assimilation was one of his only points of weakness, which was why he normally made sure he was well secured with a large quantity of food before he started. Such would not be a luxury he could afford here.

Finally he set the plate aside, turning to look at the thing that Samantha had turned towards him. He studied it briefly, uncertain of what exactly he was supposed to think of the thing. Was this, perhaps, another member of its species? If so, there was a large difference between that one and Samantha, and Aram was going to need to be careful what form he selected when he did assimilate. Reluctantly he realized that he might have to completely copy Samantha, at least until he knew enough about the natural variations in its species to construct an acceptable alternative.

Aram looked carefully at Samantha as it touched its chest, arms, and legs, before realizing that it was trying to ask him about his wounds. Aram sat up a little straighter, rotating on the spot to show his chest and arms, before realizing that this could be a chance for him to try and explain that it needed to bring him more food.

He hesitated, before drawing a finger along one tar-black wound. He then pointed to the plate, mimed eating again, and then used his hand to cover the wound. Briefly he concentrated, routing a good portion of the energy he had just earned from the small meal to the wound. When he lifted his hand away again, it was noticeably smaller. Once more he pointed to the plate, before making a big ball shape with his hands.
 
The girl watched the alien play their strange game of charades, and a little piece of her brain went spiraling briefly skyward, as she reveled in the glory of communication with a new, sentient species. She snapped her attention back to the present, and studied it's motions. Her brows rose as the wound was revealed to be smaller than when it had been covered only moments before. She glanced back up to the alien's face. It needed more food.

"Jeez, you're gonna be difficult to keep secret. I'm gonna have to head into town to get enough of the stuff you need." She paused, pushing herself back to her feet. "I'll be right back." Again, she darted out of the room.

When she returned, it was with an armful of kitchen oddities. She sat again with the remainder of a hambone, with some ham still clinging to it, and marrow inside. She also brought an onion, a tomato, a carrot, a bowl of mashed potatoes, a red bell pepper, an apple, and a pear.

"Alright, so we're going to find out what you like for food, and in the morning, I can get you some more."

She sat herself down once again, and offered the alien the food-items one at a time, watching his reactions closely.
 
Aram took the food one piece at a time as it was offered to him, and by the end he had consumed everything Samantha brought except the bowl. He was not a picky eater, especially when it was so important for him to regain his energy. Of course, some items went down easier than others. The pure meat was a welcome sight, and he quickly stripped the bone of every last morsel before cracking open the bone with strong teeth, eating marrow and bone fragments alike. The next item, when he bit into it, filled his mouth with a burning sensation almost reminiscent of food that was too hot even for him, except it was also accompanied by a burning in his eyes. Briefly he wondered if this thing was somehow inedible to him, while it was considered good food to the creatures of this planet, but the expression on Samantha's face made it seem as though this was not an uncommon reaction. Not poisonous, then. Just painful. Why would it have this thing for food? With one hand he wiped away the black liquid that pooled under his lids, trying to offer some protection from the imaginary irritant, even as he finished the thing with another.

When he tired to bite into the next item, thinking it similar to the one previously handed to him, albeit a completely different color, he nearly caused the soft, gushy interior to explode and mess up the carpet. He managed to mostly save it, except for one large, seed filled dollop which landed on his leg. He ate the rest of the thing more carefully, spilling no other part, before wiping up the dropped piece with a finger and licking it away. He tested the next, orange, tubular object with his fingertips before sticking it in his mouth, but this one seemed firm, like the bone of the meat except without the marrow inside. He started with the green, leafy part, and finished the thing three bites later.

The mushy food in the bowl took him longer to consume than anything yet. It was rich and creamy, but far more gooey than even the first two plates of food Samantha had brought him. He ate carefully but quickly, and even licked the bowl clean with a long, grey tongue after he had scraped out as much as he could with his fingers.

When Samantha handed him another red thing he took it carefully, waiting to see if this one was going to explode on him as well, before testing it with a fingernail. It had a texture reminiscent of the burning food, but when he bit it the thing did not produce the same sensation. Grateful that he would not have to deal with that again the whole thing, seeds, stem, and flesh, quickly went into his mouth. He tested the next round, red orb that was handed to him with a fingernail as well, but it seemed more like the previous item and he finished it quickly. The last piece, when tested, dripped a bit of juice, but when Aram sucked on it he quickly figured out that the fluid was not in big, loose pockets like the messy thing from before. It took him four bites.

Realizing he was now out of food once more, Aram set about cleaning his fingers of any remaining food scraps. He knew it was going to take a bit of time for the strange food to be fully digested by his body, and he would not be able to store much more while he waited for the first pieces to finish digesting if he wanted to be able to move comfortably later. Unconsciously his hands laced together in gratitude, before he remembered that this creature would not know what that meant. He let out a faint sigh, before trying his best to imitate the expression that Samantha had made when he first said its name, hoping that it was guessing the meaning correctly.
 
The girl watched the alien put away item after item, even down to the bone of the ham. It didn't seem to like spices much, but then again, hot food was something of an acquired taste. Maybe the tomato had been something of a mistake as well, as sloppy as it was to eat, although the rest of the food seemed to go down well. She was processing the information slowly.

And then it smiled at her. She grinned right back.

She had an alien living in her room. But she had to wonder: "Do you... Poop? Uh..." She pantomimed eating again, and traced a finger down her throat, past her chest, beyond her stomach, and around one hip to her bottom. Her brows lifted. It was going to be interesting if her mother came home to find a six-limbed alien sitting on the toilet.

"I mean, you certainly shouldn't hold it if you've got to go, but..." Her cheeks flushed with color. "We have places to... Do that. That very particularly aren't the floor."

She chewed at her lower lip. She didn't even know if their toilet could process the amount of food that went through the alien.
 
Aram watched Samantha's gesture, trying to figure out what it wanted from him. He imitated the gesture, before his finger hooked on a piece of his outfit. He examined it, wondering if this was what Samantha was trying to tell him, and only then realized that he was still wearing an outfit that was completely ruined through tears, blood, and dirt. Most of his chest was showing through, as were his arms and a good chunk of both legs. The blood had long since dried, meaning that he hadn't made a mess inside its room, but it was also starting to flake off in large, crystalline pieces.

He picked up one of the flakes that had fallen to the floor, before gesturing apology. It still didn't know what he meant, and this time he had no facial expressions to try and relate what he wanted to convey to it. Instead it leaned forward carefully to tug at her own outfit, before pointing to the closet.
 
Samantha stared at the alien. She had already had her hands in it's sticky black chest cavity, but if it pooped on her floor, she might very well lose it. She lifted her brows as it leaned forward, to tug at the collar of her cotton shirt. For another crazy moment, she wondered if the thing was propositioning her. Her eyes got wide, and her cheeks went ruddier still, before it pointed to her closet.

"Clothes. You want clothes." She said, relieved, as tension bled from her shoulders. "Uh... I don't know that I have anything that will fit... Or anything that has enough... Holes. I'll look." She said, pushing herself to her feet. She made for the closet, and began to rummage around for something that might fit the alien.

She came out with a too-large grey sweatshirt that looked as if it had never belonged to her, and long, flowing skirt of many shades. She set each on the bed, and went back to try and find a pair of pants. The pair she produced, she eyeballed skeptically. They were a little big on her, but she didn't know if the alien would fit in them. She doubted he'd be comfortable in anything she could provide. More items went onto her mental shopping list. "See if any of these fit," She said, gesturing to the clothing she'd laid out.
 
Aram watched Samantha go to the closet with some skepticism. Did it really think it would have clothes for him? He remembered the picture of the little grey thing on the screen, and decided to wait. Perhaps there was greater variation on this planet than he knew. Maybe that was why it had been so accepting of his unusual form. Maybe, to it, there was nothing unusual about his appearance at all.

He would need to look at the items a little closer to see whether or not they would actually fit, but once Samantha gave him permission to approach Aram went willingly enough. The many colored fabric seemed like it would work, but it was entirely impractical. Aram didn't really want to have to wear it, but if these were his options it would have to do.

It wasn't until Aram had shed his own outfit, letting the strange, thick by elastic material fall to the floor, that he remembered how funny the people of this planet were, or, at the very least, Samantha was, about showing its body to strangers. He glanced over at it, uncertain what it would need to do to make up this transgression, only to find its back turned to him. Aram still gestured apology to its back, but turned to the clothing once more.

The pants fit, albeit barely, since they rode up high on his legs. But the loose material, while being impractical for any sort of space travel, was more than acceptable for the cool, regulated climate of this planet. However, he quickly saw that there was no way the thick shirt she had grabbed was going to work. While it seemed wide enough to fit him, he did not want to pin four of his arms underneath it, and he had no means of ripping the fabric to make more space.

Briefly he considered placing the flowing object over his chest, but the idea of potentially trapping his arms underneath the thing disgusted him. His chest had been showing before, and it hadn't really seemed to bother the creature all that much. Uncertain what else to do he grabbed the unsuitable clothing with two hands and walked over to Samantha, offering them back.
 
Samantha didn't know whether or not aliens had the same sort of physiology as humans, and although she was curious, she supposed that it might not take kindly to being spied upon. She turned her back when it began to doff it's shreds. When it returned all but the sweatpants to her, she gave it a smile, and moved to her closet to hang up what he'd rejected.

"I... Don't know that we have anything with enough armholes... Maybe..." She said, eying the alien up and down. "I'll be right back." She said, as she disappeared from her room, down the hall. This time, she left the door ajar in her haste.

Her return was swift enough not to merit any snoopers however, and she closed the door behind her as she entered, holding up what looked to be a thin, cotton undershirt. A wifebeater, as it was commonly called. "This might fit you," She said. It would look ridiculous on the alien, but she figured that any human clothes would look strange. It was long, and it looked to be clean, and white.

"You're welcome to it if it suits you. You'll look a little strange, but that's fine if you don't mind. I'm sure humans look pretty strange to you too, all pink and four-limbed."

She waggled her arms expressively. "When you get that on, we'll work on teaching you how to speak English." She said. "Charades are fun, but we can't go about pantomiming everything."
 
Aram took the new item of clothing with a couple hands, quickly holding it out and exploring it. To his surprise the thing was open down the sides, almost all the way down to the waist. He quickly writhed his way into it, before the muscles in his chest rippled to get the fabric to settle into place. The temperatures of this planet seemed mild enough, all things considered. Unless the absence of the sun created a massive cooling he wouldn't even need clothing if it wasn't for the customs of this planet. And, judging by all of the broad, leafy plants he had seen outside, it wouldn't get cold enough that he couldn't handle it.

By this point his translator had mastered all of the worlds that repeated in most sentences, along with some of them that were two single words crammed together. However, the key words for him to actually understand what the creature was saying were still missing, making it nearly impossible for him to grasp the full meaning of sentences. Judging by how often his translator spat out things that seemed to be gibberish, or wasn't able to understand anything at all, this language relied on a large number of figures of speech and colloquialisms. How he preferred being able to assimilate immediately upon arriving to a planet. Unlike the translator his assimilation was not faulty, and it took a comparatively small amount of time.

Aram was drawn back to the moment by the sight of Samantha wiggling its arms in front of him. He studied the movement, looking for any sort of meaning he could gain out of it, but the creature did not seem to be miming anything, and the words he did get from its sentence (When you ... on, we'll work on... you how to... ... .... but we can't go) gave him no hints as to what exactly it wanted from him. As much as he appreciated its constant speaking for the sake of the translator, Aram was starting to grow tired of its constant attempts to communicate with him. He rubbed two of his hands behind his back, trying to remind himself to be patient. Nothing would change the fact that he owed this creature a life debt, and if it had not possessed the desire to communicate with him it might not have bothered to save him.

The least he could try and do was humor it. He lifted his top arms, waving them back and forth in imitation. He'd been forced to do many weirder things to communicate before this point.
 
Samantha grinned when the alien waggled it's arms at her in mimicry of her own arm-waggling. She sat herself down on the edge of her bed, and crossed her legs underneath her. She patted the bed, "Sit," She offered the alien.

"Now I'm going to try to teach you some English. A normal greeting for humans who speak english, is like this." He cleared her throat, stuck her hand out in front of her. "Hello, my name is Samantha Grenwald. You would say," She went on, pointing with her other hand. "Hello, my name is Aramdalx." She looked expectantly at the alien.

And then her door burst open, and her younger brother, -no more than six, or seven- burst in crying. He was still small, only waist-high, with sandy blonde hair, and blue eyes besides. He was wearing a pair of khaki shorts, and a long-sleeve shirt for the autumn, and by the blood on and gravel on his knees, he had tripped and fallen outside.

"Saaaam!" He cried, "I-" His eyes went wide as they landed on the oddly-clothed alien. He turned away from the doorway, and ran. "MOMMA! MOMMA! A MONSTER'S GOT SAM TRAPPED IN HER ROOM, MOMMA!"
 
Aram sat down carefully, perching on the edge of the surface next to Samantha. He still did not know what it wanted, but it was obvious that it in no way related to lessening the time it would take to assimilate. All the same, he had already decided that he was going to do his best not to offend the creature, and constant socialization seemed to be what was needed to keep it happy. The translator picked up bits and pieces of what it was saying, as usual, and it also threw in its own name, before offering up a slightly mangled version of his own. Were they going to play imitation games for the next who knows how long, when all of this trouble could be saved if he was able to assimilate. His ribs complained slightly, reminding him exactly whose fault it was that he was in this situation at all.

But when the door burst open all of a sudden, every thought of assimilation or frustration vanished from Aram's mind. He knew, from the way Samantha had brough thim into this building, and the way they d left the sight of his crash as soon as he was capable of movement, that for some reason it did not want its people to know of his existence. Perhaps they were not all so willing to be trusting as Samantha. This small creature did not seem to present much danger, and the rather awkward way it moved implied that it was quite young, but the chances that good would come from it knowing of his presence were slim to none.

In a split second Aram was across the room. He moved so fast that it would almost be impossible for Samantha to track his actions. Every injury in his body complained at the movement, even though he was capable of much greater, and his blood rushed to repair the damage. But Aram ignored the pain, focusing all of his attention on the small creature. A couple of his hands flew out, catching the thing and preventing it from escaping, while another clasped over the thing's mouth, muffling almost all of its cry for aid.

Normally any creature that found itself trapped in Aram's arms would only have a split second to realize exactly how dangerous this situation was before all life fled from its body. But Aram stayed the killing blow. The thing had done no harm yet, and there was no reason to damage it unnecessarily. At least not until he understood exactly what it was. He kept his grip firm but gentle, not enough to do any damage but still impossible to escape from. One hand flicked out, closing the door, before he turned towards Samantha. The small thing was kicking and whining desperately trying to writhe out of Aram's many-armed grasp. He, however, ignored all its efforts as though it wasn't even moving.
 
Samantha was staring like a deer caught in the headlights when Aramdalix sped from her bed, to her younger brother, clapping a hand over his mouth, and shutting the door behind him, before Sam could so much as think to intervene. Fear spiked in her, and for a moment, she thought the alien was going to kill her little brother. But explosive violence failed to occur, and her little brother kept struggling to no avail, in the alien's arms.

Sam took a breath, and let out a sigh. She pushed herself up from her bed, and went to kneel in front of her brother. "Jason," She said. "Jason, calm down. This is not a monster. This is Aramdalx. He's an alien, and a guest. I'm going to ask him to uncover your mouth, but you've got to promise not to tell momma or dad about him. Otherwise they might tell the police, and the police might come and make Aramdalx stay with them."

The wide-eyed little boy nodded his head slowly, and stopped struggling. Samantha leaned forward, and brushed a fond kiss across her little brother's forehead, to let him know that all was going to be fine. She rose again, and, addressed the alien this time. "Aramdalx," She said, "This is my little brother." She pointed first to herself, and then to Jason, whose mouth was still covered by the alien's hands. "Only I don't know how to explain that to you without words." She said, frowning ponderously.

She covered her mouth with her hands, in mimicry of the alien's over her brother's mouth, and peeled them away one at a time expressively. "Would you uncover Jason's mouth please?"
 
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