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On the one hand, she very much wanted this man to go, and take his frightening magic with him. It was in her nature, as a warrior, to be on guard around things she did not understand. On the other hand, it was in her nature as a servant of King Eliam to comfort those who were sad, and to accompany those who were alone. This war lasted a good thirty seconds, and in the end, her suspicion was defeated.

"That is alright, Master Bingle," she said, smiling as kindly as she could. She deliberately relaxed her tense shoulders, and scooted her chair towards the table again. Not all the way, but partly. "I apologize for my rudeness; we do not have magic like that in the Realm. Please, how do you do it? The table didn't look particularly pleased to be so bent." Only, please, she added silently, no more demonstrations! The sight of the table quivering had made her queasy.

((-Alleb))

Bingle didn't exactly frown, as such. But something in his smile was terribly disappointed. Something in the way it didn't quite reach his eyes, and the way he hung his head slightly lower. It was a very old, very lonely smile. He tapped the table and it snapped back into place with a popping noise and a rushing of air. 'Ah. Terribly sorry. I.' He rubbed his nose. 'I suppose I get a touch passionate. I had not intended for that. Pardon me.'

He looked up, still smiling. 'I suppose I should be taking my leave, then?' Still smiling.

"That--that is not--I do not think--" She scooted her chair away from the table, staring at the fold and frowning worriedly. "Would you unfold it, please?" she asked, her voice slightly pleading. She most definitely wanted her knife.

((-Alleb))

'I don't doubt that, not a bit, you know! But!' he held up a hand, as if Alleb was about to leave and wasn't obliged to stay, or anything like that. 'Can you do this?' He reached down, holding a corner of the table between two fingers. Noiselessly, he pulled it over, folded it in like it was paper.

'Lovely, isn't it?' The fold in the table seemed to move and shudder. It quivered faintly, like reality itself disagreed with the general situation and wanted it to go back to normal. Bingle grinned.

((Phew! Phew!))

"When was this?" he asked. "I haven't ever heard it reach levels above mildly uncomfortable."

"Thank you," she said, in the most polite tone she could muster, "but I am no longer a squire; I need no mentor." She blinked. "Cambodia?"

((I barely even understand it a quarter, so you're safe from me.

-Alleb))

His smile widened, his wrinkles seemed to smooth, somewhat. He looked, for a brief moment, like he was one-thousand or so years younger. 'A flope! Oh, a flope! Wonderful things. You see, you see, we have slopes,' he said, gesturing to the left as if there was a slope there (there wasn't.) 'And what happens with a slope, is that you walk forward along an incline, and you go up-' He gestured up. 'Or down-' He gestured down.

'But, see, a flope - flope is short for "five-dimensional slope."' He gestured away, leaking enthusiasm. 'Which means that you walk forward along an incline, and you can go up-' He gestured up. 'You can go down-' He gestured down. 'Or left-' He gestured left. 'Or backwards-' He gestured behind himself. 'Or to Cambodia!' He gestured towards where he thought Cambodia was. 'Anywhere you please, a flope can take you!'

'Remarkable, isn't it?!' he said, leaning in. 'You wouldn't be interested in learning more, would you? I'm quite a good mentor, if I do say so, I haven't had a single student go completely mad, you know! Not even one! Not once, you know!'

((This is where I slink into a corner and hide as everyone who half understands maths comes in, brandishing machetes.))

She felt suddenly and irrationally angry at Jesse for getting her a gown with no sleeves; she usually kept a knife in her left, but she didn't have that, now. Not that she felt particularly threatened by the old man--he agreed with his assessment--but she would feel more comfortable with a few inches of murynstil nearby. "No," she said. "What is a 'flope'?"

((-Alleb))

'"Quite a bit louder." I blew out my audial sensors there, once.' He looked left, looked right. 'Bloody well does get "quite a bit louder." How the hell do you handle it?

'I learnt it as a boy,' he rubbed his nose, recalling this. 'I don't think it was very practical, though. Lots of swishing and taunting and "en garde"-ing. I don't think it'd be as good as yours, anyhow. You do look like you could probably tear me in half.' He smiled as he said this.

'Are you anyhow inclined in the magical arts, Miss Nalleb?' he asked, leaning back. 'Folding the universe and walking flopes and seeing past the veil and such?'

"Harris?" he said to himself. "Huh, this'll be interesting." Following the directions on the card, he found the table he was supposed to be at, although he could have sworn that some of the "Left. No, no, the other left! There, better."s had not been on there when he first started looking. He slid into the seat opposite the Spy and said, "Hey, Harris. How's it going?"

Meanwhile, Michael had almost thought there had been a mistake when he had first glanced at his card. Then, he noticed the last names that had been conveniently provided. Ah, well, then. He made his way to the table indicated on the card, and sat down to wait.

Apecian nodded and said, "I know what you mean. We got a few missions from my home 'verse when we first started, but after we learned some new stuff, we haven't really gotten lots of the same thing, either. Good thing, too, because that'd be really boring. Only so many ways you can see Harry OOC in a row before you start pulling out the cards, right?"

"Good luck," Randa said, getting up to switch places.

"Like I need it," Shamrock said, though she pulled her tail around and began fiddling with it nervously, hoping to make it appear fluffier.

Randa clapped her on the shoulder and moved off to find Kaatah.

"Before that, he was a blacksmith. And a real good fiddle player. But then he went crazy." Jesse shrugged, as if that explained everything. "Wait a minute, though. If there're two Princesses, where'd they come from? If there ain't no King or Queen, well, why ain't the older sister the Queen? I ain't exactly an expert, but that sounds a bit off." He reached up and scratched his head, knocking his top hat askew.

((-Alleb))

"Other than that, missions. Lots of missions. Had any interesting Sues recently?" she asked, settling back in her chair. She was liking this; the conversation felt like it was developing normally. She didn't even feel the urge to scowl at something. It was all so strange.

((-Alleb))

She looked distinctly unsettled. "I am sure we will switch partners soon," she said, frowning. She put her hands under the table and unconsciously scrubbed the one Bingle had touched. She paused for a moment, then blurted, "Do you know much of swordplay?"

((-Alleb))

Friends. Hm. He could do with more friends. He raised his head, cheeks still ablaze. "Floaters," he said. "You?"

((That's good. Michael has the romantic acumen of someone with no romantic acumen whatsoever.

-Alleb))

"But both my partner and I are archers, so we're often down the practice range competing against each other." Apollo stopped for a second, thinking that something in his previous sentence had sounded wrong he mentally went back over it, realized and then corrected himself. "Not partner, partner you know? Just my RC partner."

Wiping a hand over his forehead, he continued, "What about you? You able to get up to much?"

As it was, he was quite content to just sit back and let Mia lead the questioning, she wasn't that bad at all really, and he didn't really have the confidence to try and lead the conversation at the moment.

before remembering seeing the gesture among some Humans on the Citadel and took it, shaking it gently in reply.

"I'm from the Mass Effect 'verse." She replied, "And no, not really. It isn't just armour you see, it's my enviro-suit, so I can cool myself down if need be." She stopped herself from rambling on, he probably didn't want to know all about that sort of stuff, or would run away if he did. "So, err... where are you from? Humans are prevalent in just about every continua aren't they?"

"I don't think my partners and I have done two missions in a row from the same continuum. Maybe the IO thinks it'll keep us on our toes or something." He knocked on the table three times. "To be honest, I kinda like that. Keeps missions interesting and probably keeps us from losing our interest in such-and-such a verse, you know?"

"I'm pleased to meet you. So what 'verse are you from? I've never seen anybody wear armor like yours before. Doesn't it get hot?" He almost asked if she was bonded to it like Alphonse, but wisely decided against it.

"That about sums up the pilot. Long story short, Twilight and five other ponies end up discovering the Elements of Harmony and using them to bring Princess Luna back. Then Twilight gets an official task from...wait a minute, did you say your uncle Randy?" She really hadn't expected this. "What happened to him?"

"I'm sorry, I am afraid I was not clear on what I meant," he said, managing to keep another from escaping. "I do not mean that he wears the exact same clothing every day, but that everything he wears looks exactly alike." He caught a small hum of a hoverplate, and added, "In regards to Rudi's, I cannot say I blame you for that. It can get quite a bit louder and more crowded than our current surroundings, yes?"

'There-s a combination of organic biology, alcohol, and lots of discussion slash potential arguments that tends to scare people like me off.' Saying that, he glanced about, looking at a great variety of organic biology, alcohol, and discussions slash potential arguments. He, ever so subtly, powered up his hoverplates.

'Haven-t met him, sorry. He sounds bloody horrid smelling, if he wears the same thing all day.' Finch's nasal sensors hadn't been working for eight years, now. He didn't truly understand the meaning behind this. The true pain behind what he had said. The uniquely organic misery that was the experience of a smelly shirt.

"That being said, if you do spend much time there, he would usually be at the bar or a crowded table. His name is Apecian, he is a bit taller than I am, and has curly black hair, pale skin, and red eyes." Michael paused for a moment, trying to identify anything else that might help Finch recall his partner. "You might also have noticed that he wears the same thing almost every day. A black t-shirt and black pants, with a rather distinctive red mark on the back of the t-shirt."