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"There is only hundreds of wizards in the White Council, but we're only a very small part of the humans with magic powers, most of them with way fewer powers, or not aware of them or worst, doing black magic. And I hope people don't mostly discover them because they're being attacked by someone or something." She then continued, eyes frowned. "However, the fact they kicked you out isn't logic. You say it's because you're... what you are, but they should have known and acted earlier if it was the case. I guess they keep track of this condition in your Ministery, and the recruiters should have discovered it when you sent your candidature. I don't believe for a moment they just discovered it out of the blue like this, well after you recruiteùent."

"I mean, once they found out about my condition, that was it. Didn't expect anything different, really..." She sighed. "And yeah, discovering magic in a sucky situation—that seems to be about right. Wonder how often it happens to other people?"

"You say you were in the top of your class, and they still kicked you out? What's the hell is wrong with your people? Not that mine are always better though," she sighed, then shrugged. "As for the latter... Well, I discovered magic through a sucky situaution, So I guess it doesn't change me too much."

"I'm just ruining everything today," he mumbled. "I'm sorry."

Des glanced from the Librarian to Zeb. "Yeah, I'm with Avirait here. Bad subject, Zeb."

"But..." He looked baffled. "Then why are you in the PPC?"

The Aviator buried her face in her hands, anticipating this ending horribly.

"...is because I watched the original series as a kid," Des said. "Id est, I've the nostalgia goggles on. I don't think Librarian here did that, and I doubt he'd find the games interesting."
"In general, I do not read fiction," the Librarian said. "I do not enjoy it overmuch."

"Anything else?" he said, a hint of a whine creeping into his voice.

"He's allowed to not like Pokémon, you know," the Aviator said, rolling her eyes.

The Librarian looked aside for a moment. "There is a trilogy of books on Desdendelle's bookcase — Ancillary Justice, Ancillary Sword and Ancillary Mercy — that have an interesting linguistic gimmick," he said at length.

Ix sighed, suddenly feeling a lump in her throat. "I can't get back to my old fic because it wasn't published, or something like that. My parents are probably going to assume the worst happened; get kicked out of Auror training because of my... condition, and then I vanish soon after? It doesn't look good." She sighed again. "It's a sucky situation for both of us."

Zeb's ears pricked forward. "Have you found anything you like, Librarian?"

"... talk about my bad mood instead of yours," Des offered.
"I fail to see—" the Librarian began.
Des cut him off: "I'm joking, you lout."
"Oh."

The Aviator shook her head. "Can we talk about nicer things, please? This is making me kind of anxious as it is." One of her hands drifted to the pocket which held her alcohol; Zeb noticed the motion and swatted her hand away.

"The worst part about it is I cannot go back home, or contact anyone there. Meaning my family, my master and my friends don't know I survived the two arson which destroyed my appartment and my office. Otherwise, I don't exactly care if I was from the actual 'verse or the RPG one."

Ix shrugged. "Guess it doesn't really matter, though, does it? Sorry, I'm being nosy, I'll stop."

The Aviator was quiet for a long time. "I suppose I never thought of that."

"But my point is this: complaining about your glitter levels might — I'm not certain — raise them. Positive feedback and whatnot." He tugged at his faceplate.
"You could conduct a simple experiment," the Librarian said, "have someone scan your with a Character Analysis Device before and after you talk about being glittery and see what happens."

"Well, my partner did it. Before the thing was shut down by the hexing, it was alternating between 'canon', 'uncanon', 'RPG character', or so he says."

Ix tilted her head. "Have you taken a CAD reading of yourself? That's how my partner found out where I came from."

"Your granddad didn't have to worry about getting arrested and having his TARDIS taken away if his diabetes got out of hand," she said sourly.

Or perhaps he wasn't staring — it was hard to tell with an unmoving faceplate for a face. "Say, Avirait," he said slowly, "maybe you can experiment. Specifically, try to live your life... well, not normally, you're an Agent, but without talking about your glitter count? Treat it like my grandfather treats his diabetes. It's there and you have to take care of it, but you don't have to make it a bigger deal than it is." He steepled his fingers. "That's an expectant look," he added after a few seconds.

"Alright, I guess," she said morosely. "Shouldn't have sang, though, I can feel my tracker beeping."

Zeb's ears flattened. "Seriously?"

She shrugged again. "Guess that's what happens when you're already glittery enough as it is."

"I live in Philadelphia. Until now, there was nothing written in my home-'verse which would make my presence here uncanon, and it seems the events which occured in my 'verse and the canon one matches. But if I understood this right, my backstory also matches a setting created by a RPG player in my 'verse. Result, I'm potentially stuck betweent the two possibilities."

"... looking expectantly at me, Desdendelle?" the Librarian asked. It took him some time — considering that the cyborg wasn't forthcoming with an answer — to figure it out. "Thank you for apologising," the Time Lord told Zeb.
Des took a seat to the Aviator's other side. "How's stuff holding up, Avirait?" he asked.