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

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."

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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.

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"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?"

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Helen swallows slightly.

"Joris."

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

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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."

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

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

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

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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."

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For some reason Helen's not very reassured.

She stiffens her shoulders, glancing at him and back over to Jamie from behind her hair.

"All right. If you promise."

She extends her right arm, and carefully starts to roll up the sleeve.

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How very thrilling.

"Her arm is an arm too," Adam remarks. Just in case they hadn't noticed.

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Having made the same mistake once upon a time, Jamie is now in a position look wise and lofty.

"Just you wait!"

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Shut up, Jamie. Helen steadies her jaw, head lowering.

Her arm slowly turns gray from the top down, creeping, thick skin forming and deep wrinkles every few inches.

She doesn't stop watching Joris.

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Adam follows Helen's gaze to Joris too.

"I think I'm convinced," he says, trying very hard to cover up the fact that he is shaken - both by Helen's arm, and by the look on the other one's face as he sees it.

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Nevermind that they are sitting in Adam's kitchen, and this is Helen, but the last time Joris saw anything like this-

He and Konstam had nearly gotten killed by a shapeshifting demon.

Helen could not be-

And yet, her arm-

Joris is ready to move, ready to act, all in an instant as he watches her intently. He has no idea how he could have missed this before-

And with everything they have all been through, he really hopes it was not all just a trick.

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As he relaxes (dangerous, like the more experienced warriors she knows, like the warlords who survive more than a month), eyes on her like she's some sort of threat to calculate and respond to, Helen stiffens briefly. Then her shoulders go back slightly, her head up, a gesture she has been taught to signify dignity.

It comes across as defiant, and it is that too. "There," Helen says, bending the pink nostrils of the trunk toward Joris. "Demons do that, don't they? Am I a demon, Joris?"

(She knows they do. Not all of her research in Milliways has been about doors.

She isn't sure that she isn't.)

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But Helen is human. Joris can still see that, even now. But her arm-

The spirit there shines out past her body, more powerful than a human's spirit should-

Just like a demon's spirit.

"I- don't know what you are. Demons- demons do that all over. Do you?"

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"Only one arm," says Helen, watching him carefully. "Is it more spirit than body?"

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"Yes." Said simply, still staring intently.

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"Well!" Helen replies, suddenly annoyed. He promised. "I can't help it."

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"No, and I don't suppose demons can either," Jamie says, irritated. You'd think after almost stabbing Jamie to death Joris would have learned his lesson about snap judgments!

"Come off it, Joris, you promised."

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"I know." Joris clenches his jaw and then slowly shakes his head.

This is more like something from Milliways than something from his own home that he knows more about. He takes a deep breath.

"But I think she is part-demon."

Really, Coyote would know how to phrase that better. Much, much, much better. Really.

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Once Helen's trunk is a hand again, she pulls the sleeve down and sits there. Head lowered, hair covering her face. Under the table she's tugging the end of her sleeves over her hands.

(Behind her hair: her eyes are closed, and she breathes carefully while calling to mind the 182 sayings of Pique the Wise.)

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"Helen," Jamie starts to say, but he can see it will do no good - she's in the sort of mood where she won't answer to anything he says.

Briefly he ponders going off and hunting for a mouse, before remembering that they're in Adam's house and he's unlikely to let them wander off like that, and also that his arm is currently not in any sort of shape for mouse-catching.

Next-best thing: change the subject. So when Adam, who looks really uncomfortable right about now (and Jamie doesn't blame him) asks about Homeward Bounders and rules and so on, Jamie gladly launches into an explanation.

It's a bit rambling, and not nearly as clear as some of the more practiced half-truths he's reeled off in bar, but hopefully it will get all their minds off the awkwardness.

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