Izzie really had no idea as to what she had been thinking before; absolutely no bleeding clue. It wasn't as if she hadn't seen hundreds of them coming through her office and duly sent to foster families. It wasn't as if she suddenly discovered her consciousness again and felt obligated to take one in. Despite working for the Child Services Department of MNU, she had herself fostered two before but this one was proving to be much more difficult and complicated.

At the thought, the woman glanced to her left to see what the little prawn was up to in the passenger seat. Due to his small size, the child had an alien designed booster seat and had a nice view of the world speeding by. And boy, did he love to do that and ignore her, Izzie grumbled internally. The child had barely acknowledged her except for small responses, laden with sadness. A newly bought toy car sat across his spindly legs, one small clawed hand idly scratching across the shiny surface.

Licking her lips, Izzie contemplated when she should tell Oliver of the upcoming visit. It had almost been a week since she decided to foster him and after the first few days she had come to the realization that the only way this was going to be pleasant was if the parent gained visiting rights. Oliver missed the older prawn, that much was certain and she did want to accommodate him. It hadn't been that hard to accomplish, considering she worked the department herself.

"Oliver, did you have fun at the care center today?" Izzie asked a bit too cheerfully as she pulled up to a stoplight. The world burned a pretty, faded sepia in the dying orange sunlight. Fields stretched ahead, swaying with tall, blonde autumn grasses, half hiding the farmhouses and ranches within them.

"Yes," the little prawn clicked dully, the blue of his eyes bored and placated. Silence reigned uncomfortably as the light turned and they drove through to the country lane. The city of Johannesburg glittered with its city lights and echoed with sounds of casual calamity behind them, fading into obscurity. Izzie silently sent a fly away thanks to God for her income and being able to live outside of the city.

"I have a surprise for you, Oliver," the woman finally announced as they rumbled along the somewhat neglected road. The child looked up in vague curiosity, antennae twitching in surprise. Izzie risked a glance down at him and smiled briefly. "I pulled a few strings at work and managed to get visiting days with your father. That'll be fun, yeah?"

The little insect didn't react for a few moments before an excited chirp escaped him and he shifted to face her in the seat. Well, that was an improvement right there. He was at least turned toward her now.

"When?" he asked excitedly, the words and clicks nearly gibberish to her. Izzie smiled and reached over enough to pat the back of his chitinous head. He seemed okay with her doing that, even if he didn't react much.

"On Friday. I set it up so that he can come visit us here twice a week. Does that sound good to you?" she questioned, knowing full well that it did. Oliver nodded quickly, his secondary arms shuffling close to his chest in excitement.

When she first started working with the aliens, Izzie had found those little limbs disturbing to say in the least. But after six years of employment, it wasn't odd at all to see his little clawed hand playing restlessly with his seat belt as his larger hands fiddled with the toy car. If prawns could smile, she was sure that he was.

Then the talking started. It was only ten minutes from the city to her house but in that ten minutes, Oliver's quick prawn language left a noticeable bruise on her brain. He was just excitable and truth be told it made her happy to see that he was. It always did. Whenever she fostered an alien child, she felt as if they needed to be happier than normal children. Perhaps it was the scattered visits to the district but she had found compassion for the little ones early. As a woman, it was only natural, she decided.

"Will he stay for the meal on Friday? Can he?" Oliver's excited chirping drew Izzie back from her contemplation of her career. Glancing at the little waif, she nodded and turned down their lane. She hid a wince at the idea however. For some reason, the older prawns were much tougher to handle, especially around mealtime.

"What do you think your father would like for dinner?" she asked brightly despite the mild sinking in her stomach. Please don't say the spaghetti, please, please don't say the spaghetti. She didn't think she could handle an adult prawn slurping her favorite dish down in front of her. At least the children played with the forks.

"The meat and potatoes and the…the…the things from the birds."

"Eggs?"

"Eggs."

Izzie tried to think of which meal that was. He had really liked that one, she remembered. As she pulled up to the front of the house, it clicked. The sausage, egg and potato scramble she had made on Tuesday. That wouldn't be horrible.

"Alright. We'll make him that," the woman conceded as she turned off the Jeep and unbuckled herself. Oliver made some soft whir of agreement and excitedly wiggled out from the booster seatbelts without undoing the buckles. "You want to help me with the groceries?"

"Yes," the prawn responded before scrambling into the back, his hard exoskeleton scraping against the old leather seats. Izzie flinched at the sound and got out to open the back hatch. The sound of their skin against fabrics was still mildly painful to her ears.

Her charge continued talking throughout the evening about his father, the clicking and chirping in his voice echoing in the kitchen nonstop. Izzie was almost exasperated with the little one but let him have it out. The little cricket was certainly making up for the past week of silence.

The human considered Oliver's case once more as she mashed together ground beef and spices for meatloaf. The prawn sat on a stool at the kitchen bar, still talking happily and crooning about the upcoming visit while watching her cook. He was definitely a cute one when he was happy.

Izzie frowned a little. Van der Merwe had signed the order for the prawnling to come to child services, noting that his previous home was unsafe for his health. After six years of working for MNU, Izzie knew that there was no safe home in the district. In addition, most of the licensed prawn children were well taken care of. The parents went through the legal paperwork and genuinely wanted their child unlike the hundreds who let their unlicensed spawn run amuck. Those were generally the types she received in her office, the abandoned prawn children that needed extended homes. As of yet, she had only fostered the licensed ones and for only a brief period of time. About half a year was the usual time for the parents to clean up and appeal their case for their child.

Looking at the still chirping waif, Izzie suffered a strange thought. What would it be like to adopt one permanently, as many had chosen to do? Not Oliver, but a prawnling that had no caring father waiting to see their child. It wasn't like she was going to have a kid of her own any time soon. Have to be dating to even have sex to get pregnant.

"Can he stay to watch a movie?" Oliver asked abruptly. His language did not quite encompassing the word 'movie' but she understood. Izzie restrained a sigh and set the meatloaf in the oven. She knew exactly which film it was to be too: Shrek. That damn American movie he had picked out at the supermarket. In the past week they had watched that movie every night before bed and it was starting to become imprinted in her brain.

"Sure."

Silence. That startled Izzie to an extent and she looked over to her charge in mild concern. The prawn still sat at the bar, his fingers fidgeting on the edge of the countertop. He looked so tiny, lost and aware with that confused, wondering expression. His expressions were easy to read considering how often they came through to her. He was an odd one, she decided, but definitely not in a bad way. The kitchen light gleamed off his marbleized green carapace and lit his blue eyes eerily as he watched her.

"Is something wrong, Oliver?" Izzie asked worriedly, not used to such a look being aimed at her. He clicked in response and continued to shyly fiddle. After a moment, he finally spoke up.

"Thank you."

It caught her off guard, to be sure. None of her other charges had ever thanked her for anything and she didn't expect it. To be blunt, her other foster children had been rather simple, easily amused and not exactly conversational. Perhaps it was because they were not raised by a loving parent as he apparently had been. When he was taken in to be cleaned up from the district, Oliver hadn't had one parasite and that almost seemed miraculous.

"For what?" Izzie replied nonchalantly, wiping her hands on a dish towel. At her question, the prawn shrugged his little shoulder in a human expression and shifted his mandibles uneasily.

"For being nice. Most humans are not nice," he replied simply. The woman gave him a faint smile before coming around the counter to him. Resting a hand on the back of his head, she sighed and shrugged.

"I know. Guess you just got lucky, yeah?"

"Yes."

"Okay now. Go wash those little claws of yours for supper," she instructed in mock severity. Oliver rolled his blue eyes in an all too human gesture before climbing off the barstool. Izzie watched him go down the hall to the guest bathroom (his bathroom), still purring and gabbing about the visit to himself.

The woman felt a groan in her chest and bit her lip. She really hoped she got along with this Christopher Johnson, especially considering how much she liked Oliver. It was always unsettling to deal with the birth parents or parent. Most responsible prawn did not like the idea of someone else caring for their child.

And the last thing Izzie wanted was a fully grown prawn disliking her.