“So, uh… did you deal with that lady who tried to kill us?” I nod in the direction of the fog, which is quickly dissipating.

“Yea, verily, Dr. Pasedrilla was a kind woman despite it all.” He holds up a carton of milk for me to see. It has a grinning cartoon cow on it. Store-brand, the cheapest one available. “She gave me this ‘carton’ of milk; apparently, it should soothe any burns caused by her attacks. Dost thou require it presently?”

“Uh, no, I’m good for now…” I squint at the carton. “Besides, it might be poisoned.”

“Worry not, Sir Chaikovsky. I am immune to poisons.”

I laugh awkwardly. “Maybe back in your world you were, but I don’t know about here…”

"Nay, I hath bested stronger foes than mere droplets of poison. I am as hale and hearty as ever, Sir Chaikovsky!" He pats his chest. "Fret not about mine constitution. Worry more about thine own!"

He seems in a good mood. Wonder if he's the kind of guy that gets excited by fighting... I always avoided those meatheads back in the day. I heard somewhere that combat addiction was a sign of post-traumatic stress disorder, though; maybe his symptoms are to do with his hero's journey or something like that.

"I'm good, I'm good. It's okay. Just a bit stuffy, you know, sinuses and things acting up." I sniffle. "I should have gotten out of range of that bomb sooner."

He shakes his head. "A timely retreat is sometimes the way to go, Sir Chaikovsky. Only fools like me fight it out until the bitter end." 

"The stupidest people are the bravest, and the smartest are the most cowardly," I blurt out. 

"I suppose so."

 

I scratch my head. "Sorry, I didn't mean it that way. I just... it just suddenly came out like that."

"Nay, I understand. There is a grain of truth within every joke." Lysander sits down beside me. "Politicians and scholars are ineffectual, farmhands and infantry the most willing to devote themselves to the causes that may kill them. If everyone were as educated as those at the top... most would, no doubt, fall victim to the corrupting, tempting influence that power over their fellow man holds."

I think about some of the more annoying supervisors at work. "Too true, man, too true. I don't think the guy up top is like that, but..." 

"I hope thee art correct in thine assessment." Lysander fidgets with a sleeve of his shirt.

I throw my hands up to show I've got nothing up my sleeves. "He's a good guy, I swear. I mean, I haven't met him personally before, but... he's done so many good things, for me and everyone else, there's little to no chance he'll be as bad as you think he is."

 

"A leader who can win the trust of his people is one to admire, surely.” Lysander looks me dead in the eyes. “Although, Sir Chaikovsky, art thou truly sure that your superior has done no harm?"

What a weird question to ask. Of course everyone has hurt others in their life... is this guy serious? Maybe that Pasadrille lady's chili bomb got to his head, seriously. "I mean, who hasn't?"

"Verily, yet..."

"Look, whoever he might have hurt in the past, I don't know anything about. All that matters now is if he's trying to be a better person, alright? I'm not buddy-buddy with the guy or anything like that. I probably know less about him than you, cause I've never met him in person either. Well, maybe not less, but you know what I mean."

Lysander huffs. "Then let us see him in person! I shall settle all my questions with him. Would that not be a better way to resolve any doubts of mine, rather than blindly relying on the word of one of his subordinates?"

"You know, I'd really like to see him too, but the guy's so popular that he gets up to three hundred people trying to talk to him at any moment. There's no point in trying right now; it's the middle of the week and he's going to be swarmed with people."

"Hast thou never attempted to arrange a meeting for thyself?"

"Of course I have, that's how I know it's not gonna happen. It's your first real day over here, don't you at least want to do something other than try to meet up with the most important person around?"

"But, if I don't put my nagging questions to rest, then..."

Damn it! Why won't he just drop it already?! I bite back the urge to raise my voice at him. "Okay, we can head back to the office and see my boss if you want. Even though it's my off day today. I'll introduce you to all my coworkers too. Even though today's my day off."

"Yes, that sounds like a most excellent idea," says Lysander, seemingly oblivious to the annoyance in my voice. Ugh, quit it with that persistence. He could be ignoring me on purpose, but he strikes me as the kind of guy who's too nice to notice if he's steamrolling other people when they're in the way of what he wants... if he believes what he wants is good, which is all the time. Well, that's just me jumping to conclusions.

 

Waving a hand, I gesture 'come on' at him. "Let's go, then. It's a quick walk over there, and I promise nobody's going to attack us this time."

"But, Sir Chaikovsky..."

"Look, if I'm wrong then I'm wrong, but you don't need to be so on guard now. Whoever's sending people after me or you won't try it again so soon, right? If anything, that crazy scientist lady was probably working alone; if you've already talked her down, there's only a slim chance she'd be coming back for a second helping of anything."

Lysander doesn't say anything. His dark eyes, made even darker by the sunglasses, stare at me like he's trying to bore a hole in my head through sheer willpower alone. What the hell does he want?

Faced with no response, I continue on with my ranting. "Besides, she gave you a carton of milk, right? Why would she give you anything if she's going to come back to fight again? Unless it's spiked with something, but why would you think that if you're trying to be charitable?"

He sighs. "Well... I suppose that the risk of being ambushed a second time in a day is rather low... but, still, are there not other things that are dangerous?"

"What, you've got that milk, right? Just pour it over whatever's trying to attack you," I snap. 

"Nay, 'tis a gift... I cannot waste a gift, even if it is from an enemy's hands..."

I've had enough of all this! I just wanna... argh! No, keep it together, Mike... just tell him to cut it out, not so obviously that he can tell you're holding back, but... "You gotta shut up about whatever deep thought problems you've got going on up there, okay? We walk and talk and don't care about anything else. Seriously, I just want to relax for once. If you have something to say, tell me now and get it off your chest quick."

“Then, Sir Chaikovsky, before we begin our trek…" Lysander begins. He twirls a strand of hair betwixt his fingers. "I desire to make an inquiry of thee.”

"Hit me with it. What’s up?"

Lysander looks at his hand like he's seriously considering hitting me. Oh, brother, don't you dare... He shakes his head. I think he took Anis's words to heart. “When shall the merger be completed?”

"Let’s see." I stroke my chin to look like a wise, all-knowing philosopher. "I ran the calculations for it this Tuesday, so they should still be accurate. We surveyed your world last Thursday, and I visited again on Friday. The calculations said your world would take about a week to merge with ours, so…"

"What day of the week is it today, pray tell?"

“Hold on, lemme check.” I crack open the calendar application on my phone. “Thursday.”

Lysander goes pale, the blood draining from his normally-rosy cheeks. “Forsooth? Verily, what good fortune!”

"What, you nervous?" I jibe.

"Mmm… only slightly."

His hesitation would be kinda cute if he wasn’t a fully-grown adult man. But I guess it’s the contrast in power dynamics or something that makes this irritating behavior loop back to being endearing. I pat him on the shoulder. "Hey, don’t worry ‘bout it. You’ll be in good hands, you and all your people. We’ll make sure of it."