Ami smiled when she saw him and he almost stopped where he was. He probably would have if the flow of the sidewalk hadn't kept pushing him forward. Lords, she couldn't be real. She was a fay, a changeling, anything not human. She had smiled at him several times during her last visit. But, they had all been reserved, secretive. This was… different. Open. She wasn't hiding anything or trying to put him at ease. She was happy to see him.

His heart sped and he found himself smiling back without thought. He had hoped she would show back up. He hadn't been able to bring himself to do anything with the number she had left behind. But, gods, had he wanted to see her again. Even with the exhaustion and the secrets, he'd wanted to talk to her again. He may not learn anything new, but he'd get to spend time with her.

He felt that presence in his head reawaken, as hopelessly drawn to her as he was. It seemed it couldn't stay quiet and still around her now that it had been brought out once. He could feel it stretching its reach, fighting for some kind of purchase. Its emotions began to pour from its confined space, so many all at once. Excitement, fear, regret, need. Then, as suddenly as it began, it stopped. The presence once again retreated. The emotions slipped away and were replaced with that familiar urge to just get away.

It was too late, though. He was standing in front of her and she was looking up at him with such relief that he couldn't have turned and left if all of him had wanted to do it.

"I wanted to talk with you about something," she stated. No greeting, no preamble.

"Want to come up?" the words were, once again, out of his mouth before he could think better of it. He definitely shouldn't have asked. They could talk about whatever it was here. Alone was intimate. Alone was bad. Alone wreaked havoc on his entire being.

She nodded her assent and followed him into the building. Neither spoke during the elevator's slow climb or the walk to the end of the hallway. When they entered the apartment, she immediately glanced at the paper on the side table with her number scrawled across it.

A corner of her mouth rose, "You weren't going to reach out to me, then?"

"I hadn't decided," he mumbled before turning towards the kitchen. The kitchen felt neutral, non-threatening. He'd already talked to her once in the small space. He'd survived that encounter, so surely he could survive another. He leaned against a countertop, watching as she stood primly in the center of the room, "So, you wanted to talk?"

"Yes, about work," her face immediately turned serious. The look was at home on her features and he could picture her going through a work day exactly like this. "How much school did you finish? You went into a coma at 16, correct? Did you start secondary school? Have you taken the proficiency exam?"

He stared at her for a moment. He was vaguely surprised she needed to ask any questions about him. She clearly had far more information on him than he'd realized. She at least understood the school system where he was raised, which likely meant she knew grew up. Finally, he shrugged, "I barely finished primary school. I didn't have time for secondary school."

"Why not?"

"Too busy trying to eat."

"What?"

"I left home at 14. I had to eat. So, I just barely finished my final year of primary school. And then, I was here and 20," he held out his arms to indicate the apartment.

She was silent for several minutes, regarding him. He could see her coming to grips with school being a second priority. Everything about her screamed studious. She clearly didn't understand what it was like to be concerned with something other than school and grades.

"Oh, I… I'm sorry."

He shrugged. He'd never had a problem with the fact that he hadn't attended secondary school. He'd worked so hard that first year to finish primary school. If it hadn't been for Ana finding him within his first 3 months of living on the streets and her adding her meager income to what he could earn on the side, he probably wouldn't have made it through that final year. He'd wanted to finish more. He'd liked school. He'd always enjoyed learning. And, he was smart. He would have had no problems going to a secondary school if he'd found the time to do it. Although, the start would have been useless with whatever happened to him barely a year later.

"It's fine. I should apply for the proficiency exam. Your mother said she could get me signed up for it. Sort of like she's done everything else," he gave a self-depreciating smile. He wasn't sure exactly how her mother had managed to get him through the system to live and work here, with so little schooling and such dubious circumstances. He was sure similar methods would be used to get him the equivalence of secondary schooling.

"Of course, well, we can do that when… if… you want," she took a deep breath and seemed to recompose herself. "What have you been doing for work since then?"

"Same as always. This and that. Physical labor, assisting shop keepers… I've become surprising proficient at bartending. I'm told it's my pretty face," he gave his best smile, hoping to put her back at ease.

"That I believe," she muttered, her face turning red. Despite the blush, he saw her body relax even more. "Well, it's not a bar bar, but Makoto manages a little bakery with a juice bar. She mentioned that their last pretty face left, so there's an opening."

She'd said it with such a straight face, shooting him a look from beneath her lashes. It had been so unexpected that he actually snorted. She'd seemed so reserved through both of their meetings that he hadn't expected her to tease him back. He wandered how often she allowed the teasing side out. He was excited to find out.

"Do you visit often?" he slid his hands into his pocket, trying to seem at ease and much more confident than he actually felt in her presence.

"Nearly every day. To study," she answered, smiling at him coyly.

Was she flirting back? The idea sent a thrill through Zoran. So did the idea of working somewhere she frequented. It would solve multiple problems. He could work, make a little money to pay for rent and food himself, and see Ami more. Maybe, he could even get more details about how she knew him. He could get more details about her, which sounded even more appealing than learning about his mysterious memory loss.

"Right," he pushed himself off the counter and walked closer. "How do I apply?"

She watched him, a slight weariness entering her expression as he moved closer, "I can take you to meet Makoto. I think she's with our friends right now. I received a message earlier that they were getting together. They'd be very interested in meeting you, too."

His mood fell as he stopped in front of her, "The others who I'm important to?"

She gave a slight nod, "There's nothing to worry about from them."

He felt his lips purse. There was everything to worry about in meeting them. He could feel it. If he'd felt like going to that group earlier this evening was going to make things more complicated, this would make everything an absolute, verifiable clusterfuck. He just wanted to settle in, know her, not get mixed up in who knows what. Whatever he had been mixed up in five years ago, most likely.

"I don't know," he answered finally.

"Not yet, at least," her head tilted down and he caught the disappointment in her face and tone.

He couldn't help it. His hand moved on its own accord, reaching to brush over her arm.

Her head shot up just before he made contact, her eyes wide. She seemed to try and move back, "Oh, I don't…"

Suddenly, it was gone. His kitchen, her, everything. There were images, quick and bright, almost indiscernible. It was all her. So many different images of her. Laughing, reading, scolding a young blonde, surrounded by mist and magic.

Then, just as suddenly as they had started, they were slipping away and he was fighting to hold onto them. Soon, he wasn't sure why he had been fighting so hard and all he could concentrate on was the rolling in his stomach and the pain in his head. Pain emanating from that area.

He glanced around and noticed that she'd reached for his trash can and pulled it closer, as though she knew what was coming next. Of course, she had known and thank gods she did. He wasn't sure he would have had time to get over to it. Before he knew it, he was leaning over the can and losing the very fine diner food he'd eaten for dinner.

"Ohhh, Zoran," he could see her hands moving between them, as though she was simultaneously wanting to reach for him and realizing that it would likely make things worse. He was glad she didn't try and touch him again. He wasn't sure he could take another round of whatever was happening to him.

Did she touch you?

Jacob's words filtered through his thoughts. He had known. Jacob had known what would happen. Whatever it was that had happened. And, damn the man, he hadn't thought to warn him better?

"What…" Zoran took a deep breath, trying to steady himself, "the hell?"