And it may take some time to learn what&#39;s real

The skeleton has a plinth that reads, in gold letters, FREDERICK M. ALLINGTON.

"Meet Fred," Adam says, with some pride. He feels that Fred is part of what makes the house unique.

From:

Helen's eyeing him, approvingly.

"How beautiful!"

It looks like he's a full set.

From:

"My father's a doctor," Adam explains, herding the motley group through the door into the kitchen. "I think I may be one too."

His attention has already shifted back to the one that's bleeding - the difficult one, Adam thinks of him as, although right now he's too out of it to put up much protest as Adam steers him into a chair and goes to start making tea.

From:

Well, the difficult one can hardly be Joris-

At least to Adam. Jamie might argue, considering how Joris is hovering over him and fiddling with the makeshift bandage and apologizing with every other breath.

At least he is completely sincere, and does not look like he is one step away from breaking down into tears, at the moment. Maybe two steps, though.

From:

Jamie thinks muzzily that he does not like this kitchen. It's too clean and too white and there's nowhere to make toast.

From:

Now that they're all settled, Adam thinks it's time for some judicious fishing.

"I can tell you're all from different places," he remarks - this can pass for pleasantly conversational, yes? - "from the way you talk. Joris has an American accent -"

From:

A what-sort of accent? Joris blinks and shakes his head.

"I haven't, but I still have a Kathayack twang."

From:

. . . . right then.

"Ah," says Adam.

Humor them, he reminds himself. You'll never get anything out of them elsewise.

Moving on!

"Helen sounds foreign." He eyes Helen, and pronounces, "I'd guess Helen was Pakistani."

From:

...

How dare he use that tone of voice on her. Condescending and knowing, and completely wrong. If he wasn't offering them hospitality, and if Jamie wasn't so hurt...

Her chin rise, and she replies, quite matter of fact: "The House of Uquar is in Spithicar."

From:

Jamie rouses out of his fog enough to realize that Adam is fishing, Helen is bridling, and something should be done to deflect this line of conversation fast.

"And I'm dead common," he chimes in helpfully.

For once doesn't even bother trying to modify his accent to suit his surroundings; he's heard enough of the people of this world to know that his vowels won't be raising any eyebrows.

From:

"I was going to say," Adam says soothingly, "that I can't place you at all, Jamie."

It's funny, really, how desperately Jamie is trying to squirm out of giving them information - well, it would be funny, if he weren't bleeding out the arm in Adam's kitchen.

"Have a biscuit."

From:

...Not only is Adam believing lies, Jamie is wanting him to, and Joris isn't doing anything about it.

She should've known. Idiots.

"We're not from America, or Pakistan, or anywhere on your world," Helen tells him, annoyed. "We're exiles."

And she dives into the history and science behind it. She can tell Adam is a boy of logic--he should be able to understand why they need help.

From:

And if logic, history and science do not convince Adam-

Joris can totally tell Adam all about Konstam.

From:

Tragically for Joris, he will never get the chance to play the Konstam card, because despite his best intentions Adam interrupts Helen about halfway through with a burst of laughter. He can't help it; she just looks so serious, like a gamer hotly contesting the rules over a d6 throw.

"Pull the other one!" he gasps. "Haras-uquara! Demons! Them! You've all been watching too much telly."

From:

Helen is a real pal, she is.

Jamie is busy building up a nice hot pile of irritation at her, when Adam starts laughing - and all that irritation immediately redirects himself towards Adam instead.

"Well, you asked us to tell you," he snaps.

After all that, demanding and prying and poking, now here he is with all their worst and most painful secrets and he's laughing? Well, Jamie will show him funny. Put it down to the pain in his arm if you like, but all of a sudden he's really almost desperate for Adam to believe them after all and see just how hilarious it is, that their lives have all been ruined over a stupid game.

There has to be something that would convince him. Joris' slave mark is out; anyone, as Helen said before, can get tattooed. And for once he hasn't anything particularly otherworldly in his pockets, more's the pity. He pulls out his whistle from Creema di Leema anyways, but he already knows what Adam is going to say - that they can get them at a store down the street.

But then happy inspiration strikes. And conveniently enough, it's a way to get back at Helen, too, for going off about Them in the first place.

"Helen," Jamie suggests, leaning back in his chair. "Show him your gift."

From:

Helen's been watching this, almost all annoyed but a little bit amused (she hadn't thought Joris's brand showed anything, either). When Jamie asks, though--

She tilts her head, letting her hair fall down in front of her face completely. "No."

Not with Joris here.

From:

"Why not?" Jamie demands.

He's feeling punchy and light-headed and not quite connected to himself; Helen will probably go off on him but at this point he doesn't care.

"Oh, come on! It's the only thing that's going to convince him. Why not?"

From:

Helen swallows slightly.

"Joris."

From:

Jamie looks at Joris, to see if he's got any idea what this might mean - because Jamie certainly hasn't got a clue.

From:

Having just been shown a tattoo and a cheap plastic whistle, Adam is in no mood for more games.

"If you mean her face is her gift," he says, with unconcealed scorn, "I've seen it. It looks like a face to me."

From:

"No," Jamie says, in frustration. "It's something else. Helen, what do you mean - Joris?"

From:

You've lost a lot of blood, Jamie, but don't be dense.

"He'll think I'm a demon."

From:

As if they thought he would mistake just anyone for a demon!

... This was not Milliways, really.

"But I won't! I can't! I can see you're not a demon."

And it is not as if he would shoot Helen, for goodness' sake! Even if he had his gun with him.

"I promise I won't."

From: