Chapter 11: I've Got the Bear Spray!

He really was the biggest jackass in the entire universe.

Pine forests. Pine forests frickin' everywhere. But hey, no pressure, let's run through as fast as possible, because there couldn't possibly be any unforeseen obstacles when you had trees standing around every two steps or so.

Why'd he have to end up on a planet without rings?

Today was the second day of trudging his way back to the only place Sonic knew of after spending almost five weeks on Earth, as they called it—and it already took forever. The day before, he'd rather abruptly ended his run courtesy of a branch sticking out from behind a bush or something. He couldn't even remember how it happened. He only knew that he hadn't seen it coming. And while the impact had shattered the branch like a sheet of ice hitting the ground, it had still left a multilayered bruise on his chest. Judging by how it felt as if he'd now gotten a piece of glass stuck in his lungs, it also meant he now had at least one or two bruised ribs in there. Just peachy.

He was usually pretty resilient when he was in the Flow. It had something to do with the way Chaos worked in his body. Whenever he went at crazy speeds, it was as if some kind of invisible armor protected him—otherwise he'd probably need a padded suit wherever he went. Occasionally though, his mind went off-track enough to kick him out. That's when stuff like this happened. That's when you had a ring.

But no, this planet had frickin' nothing.

…Though, to be fair, even if there were any, he probably wouldn't have had one in the first place… He usually didn't have one during most of his stunts on Mobius, either. If there were a bunch of winding buildings, he wanted to scale them now, not four hours later. If he saw a group picking on someone else, they also never politely waited until he'd found a ring to punch them safely.

One time he'd gone out of his way to get one, then lost it stubbing his toe when doing the run-up for the actual jump he wanted to make. Of course, he'd gone and done it anyway. Made it too.

Then he'd bruised his back so hard he couldn't sit for two weeks.

Turned out, most of the time, doing things fresh was better than doing them safe.

So, when it came to that, being on Earth wasn't much of a difference…, but that he hadn't even found a single ring by now, was still odd. Jen hadn't known what he was talking about either.

…Not that the latter didn't happen on a daily basis, anyway, but hey.

Also, apparently, no one here seemed to have what people tended to call 'powers', or rather, a 'Flow' strong enough for your body to utilize Chaos energy on a much more effective level than most others. Chaos existed here. He felt it (otherwise he'd be in a lot more trouble than he already was…). But if humans could, too, they apparently couldn't do anything with it.

But he wasn't going to find out more about that anytime soon, since it was going to take forever to get out of this forest at the pace he was currently going.

He hadn't even been out in the woods for an hour before he'd smacked his chest into a jutting piece of wood two days ago. It was supposed to be a half-day trip just checking out more of the area. Now it turned out that the distance he could cover in an hour of mostly easy jogging was the kind of distance 'normal' people turned into a four-day hike… And if he didn't heal up in that time to run normally again, those four days of hiking meant four days of not having anything decent to eat around. Sonic hadn't expected to be in that kind of situation anytime soon again.

Okay, he'd gotten at least somewhat lucky this time. The morning before, he'd stumbled upon a lonely, weather-worn shack that someone had stored a bunch of food cans in. They looked as if they'd been there for ages, so he'd decided to stuff himself—only whoever put them there had forgotten to also put something to open those cans with into the shack, and the one time he could've used the knife he'd kept from back at the island, he'd decided not to wear his pants and had no place to put it. So he'd ended up trying to open one with a rock, creating a barely edible, tomato-y mess. His gloves still looked as if he'd slaughtered something—which, depending on the something, might have been the preferable alternative…

Anyway. He'd briefly considered simply resting up at the shack for a while, but then he'd already gotten bored and instead grabbed one of the remaining cans in each hand and continued on the long way back. Now it was early morning the next day, with the kind of crisp air that made your breath condense, and he still hadn't found a way to safely open the food he'd found. At this point he didn't even care anymore whether the stuff he'd gotten turned out to be pet food or just a sauce of some kind as long as it managed to not make him sick again. Bruised ribs and an upset stomach? No, thanks. It was bad enough that he had to drink from streams out here.

The pine forest he was trudging through seemed to lighten some ways to his right, indicating that he'd probably reached another lake. Not the worst spot to try and give his gloves another rinse.

Sonic took a turn towards the supposed lake then caught a glimpse of blue in one of the trees above. It appeared to be a pouch hanging from a string that was taut across a branch, then tied to another one lower down at about human chest height.

He didn't have a lick of knowledge about wilderness survival, but this was something he'd seen before: a way of keeping small animals away from your food and from your camp.

Sonic grinned. Good thing he wasn't an animal.

…Unfortunately, compared to the guys here, he was clearly fitting the 'small' part.

He approached the branch where the bag was fastened and gazed up at the knot a good way above his head. His lips formed into a line.

Climbing was decidedly out of the question right now.

He dropped the two cans and stretched to reach the knot, steadying himself with one hand against the trunk. His chest felt as if his ribs had grown fur and he was trying to pull them out from a jar of glue. Sonic drew his arm back with a stifled grunt, gaze falling on the two cans sitting beside him. Maybe now they were finally good for something.

He repositioned the cans on the ground and stepped on top of them, just barely getting his hands on the knot above while standing on his toes.

There was a rustle in the woods behind, making him turn. The foliage-obscured shape of a person approached, and Sonic reflexively slipped behind the trunk, picking up the two cans in one swift motion and regretting it the same moment. Up to this point he'd had plenty of time thinking about what other injuries he could've gotten instead, deciding that he'd gotten off easy by comparison. But, damn. Did it have to sting this much?

He drew a few shallow breaths until the pain subsided then dared to peek out from behind the trunk. The guy wasn't coming to get his bag now, was he? Sonic had yet to encounter a species with worse timing…

The person in question was a bearded guy wearing a rumpled t-shirt, a pair of shorts, and a pair of big untied boots—not exactly weather-appropriate by human standards, for all Sonic had learned by now (which included his own lack of appropriate attire, apparently).

Instead of going for the bag, the man stepped up to a tree, pulled down his shorts and took a leak.

Sonic grimaced, drawing back behind the tree and already working to get this particular mental image banished from his mind. He suddenly appreciated those guys wearing clothes all the time a lot more.

He waited for the obvious noise to fade, then took another peek. The guy had stepped away from the tree (shorts back on), yawned, then apparently began to return to where he had come from.

Now what?

Sonic really wanted to know what that pouch above was holding. But at this point he definitely wasn't fit enough for a swift retreat in case another one of them showed up—even though the guy had looked as if he was heading straight back into his tent, so the whole camp was probably still asleep. Plus, those weren't some abandoned cans in a shack, and it wasn't like he was suddenly okay with taking other people's food. He'd thought of maybe taking one thing and then putting the pouch back to where it had been, but… maybe he had to try another approach today. He was gonna ask.

Sonic grabbed both of the cans and began heading in the general direction the guy had disappeared to, trying to collect his thoughts on the English words he'd managed to get into his head up to this point. Even with Jen's help, it felt as if he'd added only about three more words to his vocabulary. He couldn't remember it being that difficult learning the local tongue when he moved from South Island to Emerald Hill back when he was a kid. But then he couldn't remember much of anything from that time anyway.

It'd have to do.

The forest opened up to a rocky clearing that gave way to a wide view across an enormous lake surrounded by mountains and even more forest. The sun was beginning to creep up from behind those mountains, giving the lake a turquoise shine but not doing much for the temperature yet. Seeing it was still a good thing though, because keeping your sense of direction while going at turtle-speed was somehow a lot more difficult than at his usual pace. Nice knowing he was still on track.

In the clearing, two tents, or rather tarps, had been set up left and right with a good distance between them. A small, cleaned up fire pit sat in the middle. No one seemed to be awake yet (or, anymore…).

Sonic got into a crouch in the relative shade of the surrounding foliage, trying to glance underneath the two tarps. The view into the left one was blocked by a huge log, apparently making up the head end of it. Its lower end pointed towards the lake and had at least one pair of bedrolled legs showing. Underneath the other tarp the guy from before lay snoring again.

Sonic stood again, carefully rolling his shoulders. Waking one of them up and then trying to get a pathetically worded question out while they tried to stop panicking in a much more cleverly worded way, didn't seem like the best course of action anymore. He was going to let them wake up on their own and check the pouch from before in the meantime.

He turned around to head back then noticed something glinting by the fireplace. It looked like cutlery on second glance. Sonic's gaze automatically fell on the two cans still in his hands.

Well. It was slightly better than taking their stuff. Maybe this time he'd manage to come across as someone 'borrowing'.

...Why hadn't he asked Jen for that word yet?

Hopefully, those campers would figure it out on their own if he just stayed there quietly, looking harmless and all.

He walked over, carefully placed the two cans on the stone ground beside the fireplace and picked up what was apparently an entire set of cutlery, stacked together inside a short metal sleeve that had a small blade worked into it. Sonic recognized a can-opener when he saw one.

"Huh." He let out the noise in surprise then hesitated for a moment, startled by the loudness of his own voice. Someone stirred underneath the left tarp and Sonic suppressed a groan, crouching and taking apart the cutlery anyway. He was pretty sure most of those guys did understand at some point that he was just another person like them (only slightly shorter and furrier…), so maybe if they saw him using a tool these three would get to that point a bit faster than average, letting him be for a time.

Sonic set the can-opening knife to the lid of the can that looked as if it had some kind of stew in it and began poking a first hole into it. The faded label had a spoon on it, too, so chances for it being pet food were nicely low.

From the left tarp came a hushed voice. "Honey. Honey, wake up! There's an animal in our camp."

Someone else seemed to stir. Sonic kept concentrating on the can, slightly distracted by the fact that he thought he'd heard the word 'animal' in that sentence. How hard could it be for those guys to recognize the difference? When he'd first seen a human his first thought hadn't been, 'oh yeah, this gotta be a really tall slug', either. He rolled his eyes.

After some quiet grumbling, the voice whispered again. "You have to do something!" It was the kind of tone someone used when they wanted something done but clearly didn't want to do it themselves. He probably still had some time left.

"…'S it a bear?" came a barely audible, tired male voice. "The guide said we should ignore other wildlife."

"It's paws look all bloody!" The other voice hissed. "What if it has killed the guide?"

"Well then I probably shouldn't go out there and confront it, should I?"

"William!"

Sonic willed himself to ignore the voices (he only recognized about one word per sentence anyway) and kept cutting into the can's lid, eventually lifting it. The brown, chunky goop inside smelled over-spiced, but at least it didn't smell spoiled. Sonic picked up the fork, stirred and picked out what looked like a piece of sausage. He carefully took a bite. Hopefully the stuff was pre-cooked. A rustling drew his attention away again.

A slim, gray-haired man in tights came out crawling from underneath the left tarp, heading towards the lake and apparently trying his best to be stealthy. It was the kind of moment reserved for comments like, 'Dude, you're as tall as a bus and wearing lavender, I can see you,' but one, the guy wouldn't understand him anyway, and two, any time not talking was eating time, which was clearly more important right now.

Said dude had slipped into a depression hidden behind a bunch of boulders facing the water, then after a moment poked his neatly moustachioed head out at the other end of the clearing close to the second tarp where the man from before lay sleeping. Mustache-man crawled behind it, trying hard to pretend that Sonic hadn't noticed him already.

The bearded guy started moving under the tarp, facing the other one first. A quiet discussion ensued. Then he turned in his bedroll, facing Sonic who was midway putting a piece of potato into his mouth. Sonic shrugged and kept eating.

"Oh, shit." Beard hissed.

…How come you always memorized the curse-words first?

"I told you to get your firearm," Stache whispered.

"And I told you there is no firearm." A pause. "Did you leave the used cutlery outside?"

"I rinsed it!"

Beard facepalmed. Then he drew his hand down his face with a huff. "Great." He faced Stache again, who still crouched there poised to pounce. "Keep still and hush. I'll handle it."

He untangled himself from his bedroll, still in the same shorts as before, and slipped into his untied boots, getting out of the tarp. He kept standing beside it for a moment, fists resting on his hips, and on his face the kind of crumpled look of a person clearly out of their depth.

Sonic gave him a salute with his fork, earning a series of non-plussed blinks, then he chucked another piece of sausage into his mouth. Language-wise, he was still an eternity away from 'disarming quip'-territory, so he'd just wait what the guys would do. They'd eventually do something, that much was sure. In the meantime he could get his fill of that stew or whatever it was without having to gobble it down like a starved duck.

The man began to approach.

To Sonic's left, a third person poked her head (and razor-sharp nose) out from under the tarp, still mostly entangled in bedroll. Her once-neat hairdo had slightly suffered during the night, but she still looked oddly excited, in equal parts rummaging and trying not to lose sight of him.

"What kind of animal is this?" she asked Beard in a hushed voice as if Sonic hadn't already noticed any of them.

Beard hushed her by lifting a finger. Maybe he was the guide of the group. Behind his tarp, Stache rose to his feet, now holding a dangerous looking yellow spray can in both hands. He seemed to wait for some kind of command.

Well, as long as the guide looked as if he had his clients in order, there was no need for a sudden, rib-jarring dash back into the woods, at least.

Beard took a few careful steps closer, then seemed to feel safe enough to slowly crouch down in front of him. Apparently, quiet, non-hostile eating, did work as communication for some people, after all. But the way the guy was inspecting him (and the cans, oddly), Sonic wondered whether he'd actually smeared his entire face with sauce by now.

'This stuff is almost tolerable,' he wanted to say to break the tension. But heck if he had the words.

"What are you?" the guy said as if he didn't want the other two to hear.

Sonic swallowed his forkful of what appeared to be beans, then eyed the guy, tapping the fork to his lips and pretending to think on the question he'd miraculously understood. There was no way he would give a truthful answer to that.

"I'm me," Sonic said eventually, switching his fork for the spoon that came with the cutlery set lying beside the can to get the more saucy parts out.

The guy drew in air through his teeth (and beard), swaying a bit on his toes. Then he leaned in a bit closer.

"Do you… live in these woods?" he asked quietly (and with a twitch of doubt on his face).

Oooh yes, the guy was using words Sonic knew. It was almost fun that way.

But: "No," Sonic said, shaking his head and almost having to stifle a laugh. Had all the other people he'd met been asking the same absurd stuff?

Now the guy looked positively amazed. Hoo boy.

Before Beard could ask anything else though, the woman still in the tent addressed her creeping up tent-mate in the same hushed voice as before. "Did you hear that, William. It's like Margaret's parrot."

Sonic's understanding skills came to an abrupt end.

Beard gave her a bewildered look that involved even more blinking than before.

…Which probably meant Sonic hadn't missed anything important.

After some more rummaging, the woman finally produced what clearly looked like a camera and began pushing a few buttons. It came to life with a small beep.

Sonic rose to his feet, slightly startling the guide. So far he hadn't actively cared about whether anyone snapped a picture of him, but now that he spent most of his time at Jen's place, he couldn't have photos of him pop up everywhere. Especially when he wasn't really that far out.

He neatly stepped over to the still fumbling woman, spoon between his teeth, and calmly took the camera from her hands. Her wide-eyed gaze rested on him when he returned to his spot, finding Stache squared up behind the guide who'd stuck his arm out in a warding gesture, all three now temporarily frozen watching him. Sonic set the camera next to him on the ground and began spooning the rest of the food. He probably should've heated the stuff beforehand…

On the other hand, now was probably a good time to leave this lousy rest and get out of the camp while he still had their confusion on his side.

As if on cue, Stache readied the bottle. "I've got the bear spray, step aside."

Sonic gave him a stare. The bear what…?

If the guy had a hat he'd almost look like an elderly version of that bow-wielding dude Sonic had seen on TV a couple of days ago. Unfortunately, something told him that the thing this guy was wielding, wasn't a can of bear deodorant.

Beard rose to his feet, palms outstretched in a now slightly panicky calming gesture. "No, no, wait. Your wife is right." He licked his lips while the woman perked up. "This is a rare species of… spined raccoon. You'll just rile it up with the spray."

The woman nodded eagerly, but Stache looked more than skeptical. Beard gave Sonic a brief look that seemed to say, 'hey, how was that?'. Unfortunately Sonic's English expertise had taken a vacation at about the second 'no'. He definitely had to get better at this.

…But what else was new?

Beard continued, apparently still trying to talk the guy down. "So… as I said, don't use the spray. These raccoons like gleaming things. One second you're not looking then your tarp comes down on you because the pegs are gone… I'm sure I can lure it away."

Stache ground his teeth, still holding the can at the ready in case something went wrong. The woman bit her lip, looking somewhere stuck between frightened, elated, and (probably) really needing to pee.

Beard approached again and carefully took the pieces of the cutlery Sonic wasn't currently using. He waved them in the air at about Sonic's eye level, then began to retreat towards the edge of the clearing.

"Come on. You're not supposed to be here…"

…Wait.

Sonic stared at the guy dumbfounded for a moment before his brain began to catch up. Getting lead out of the camp without catching a load of whatever that spray was (and then having to dunk the guy into the lake while trying not to aggravate a chest feeling full of shards) did seem like a nice idea. Shame they'd probably want their cutlery back.

He grabbed the fork, spoon, and the still closed can anyway and followed, hesitant at first, then on a somewhat normal pace when they'd crossed the edge of the woods and were more or less out of sight. When they were apparently also out of hearing range, Beard stopped, fingers wringing around his share of the silverware.

"Okay," he began. "I have no idea how I managed to get the most ridiculous group members this time, but you're obviously not a raccoon. Help me understand what's going on!"

...'understand what's going on'...?

"Yeah…" Sonic said. That'd be nice for a change.

Beard blinked. "What?" He crouched to get at about eye-level with Sonic. "I'm sure you understood me before. Don't play dumb," he said, then added under his breath: "Oh god, if that woman had been right about the parrot…" He rubbed his face and beard.

Sonic scratched the back of his ear. He'd at least understood that first sentence there, hadn't he? Come on, come on, a reply couldn't be that hard…

"I, uh, can't… English," he said, letting his arm drop again and trying hard not to groan. This was somehow worse than not having a clue whatsoever.

The guy arched both eyebrows then looked sideways, mumbling and rubbing his beard some more.

"Okay, just to make sure." Beard faced him again, repeating a question from before, slightly slower this time: "Do you live in these woods?" He gestured a bit which was actually helpful, but Sonic had understood this particular question earlier.

"No," he repeated, trying to sound convincing.

The guy nodded then pointed at the can in Sonic's hand. "Where did you find these?" Some more gesturing.

"Uhm…" Sonic resisted hiding the can behind his back, apparently failing to look casual. The guy held up his hands in defense.

"Keep it. I don't care. I just need to know where you got it." He picked up a twig and made a few sketches into the ground. "Apparently there's someone out here playing hermit or some such. They're leaving traps and stuff and empty cans like these all over the place, and it's a danger to humans and… animals as well…" He trailed off, inspecting Sonic once more then shook his head. "So, where did you get these?" he asked again slowly.

If there was one thing Sonic had gotten good at (that clearly wasn't English), it was deciphering crude drawings… He took the twig, crouched, and sketched out the lake and the camp they'd come from. Then he traced a dotted line into the general direction he remembered the hut to be. He added it to the sketch. "One day walk, I guess," he said.

Beard eyed the lines with arched brows. "Huh," he said. "Thanks." He seemed to internally map it to his own knowledge of the area.

Sonic got back to his feet, stifling a groan when the motion made his chest expand. He tenderly rubbed his side.

"...Are you okay?" the guy asked. "Well. Aside from being… this…," he added mumbling.

"No," Sonic gave him a lopsided grin. "But it's okay," he said. He'd survive, obviously.

Beard ran his fingers through his beard again. Maybe having the thing was the same as having chest-fluff…

"…If you need help, I can—"

"Ross!"

They both turned their head towards the moustachioed voice from the general direction of the camp.

Beard growled. "Oh, for f—"

"—You're taking long, I'm coming for help." the voice called, accompanied by the noise of someone thoughtlessly trudging through the woods. A flash of yellow poked out through the foliage.

"Here," Beard handed Sonic the remaining cutlery and rosetose to his feet. "Take it. Go." He waved his hand urgently. "I'll deal with that moron over there."

Sonic eyed the cutlery for a moment, then grabbed it. "Thanks," he said, then took off into the woods at the fastest pace someone trying not to breathe could manage…

#

Allan stepped into Jen's apartment, closing the door after him. She stood at the other end of the short corridor, one shoulder resting against the wall and hands in her pockets, watching him get out of his coat.

"Sorry, I'm late," he said, slipping out of his shoes as well. "But I needed to get the last of the probes while they still had the machine at the lab. Damned thing took forever." He broke off, trying to glance past her. The TV was on. Allan lowered his voice. "He's here?"

Jen shrugged. "You can't avoid him forever."

Allan grimaced. It had been about three weeks of him and her only occasionally meeting at the café, and he'd caught himself a couple of times feeling far too glad for being exceptionally busy at the time. Today he'd expected having Jen for himself—but no such luck, apparently.

She seemed to catch the look on his face. "Sorry. I wanted to send him out, but I think he's got a bruised rib or something. Not sure what to do. Think I could give him painkillers?"

It was the kind of question Allan automatically put far more thought into than was rightfully necessary. Also, this was one of the numerous situations in which its implications brought up all sorts of issues he hadn't previously considered.
If Sonic really was from another planet, there was no easy way to tell how his organism might react to common Earth substances. There was also no way to tell whether he might be receptive to, or actually carrying, alien diseases. The list of reasons that made Allan wary of Jen having Sonic around instantly got longer.

"You could try something based on acetylsalicylic acid," he suggested eventually. "The cells of a lot of vertebrates carry the enzyme it affects, so it might just work on him, too. But better go with a dosage for children first."

Jen looked oddly happy at that. "Hey, cool. Thanks."

"…What?" Allan asked, suspicious.

"Kinda expected you'd tell me to let him suffer."

"Whatever gets him out of your hair first." He chuckled. "What happened, anyway? Did he get into a fight or something?"

"Er, no. Ran into a jutting branch, apparently."

Allan arched an eyebrow. That definitely was a better alternative to Sonic drawing unnecessary attention, but—

"Don't ask me," Jen said, shrugging again. "Look at the bright side." She twisted her upper body to face the couch, raising her voice just barely. "He's finally got his butt on my couch for long enough to actually learn something."

From said couch came an indignant »Hey,« then Sonic emerged with a somewhat amused look on his face, peeking across the backrest. "I'm good," he said.

Jen snorted. "You wish!"

Allan was quiet. It had bothered him when he first heard Sonic talk, but this time it seemed downright bizarre. It was one thing to have a bird mimic a few words, but to have a clearly non-human… person reply to your questions as if it was the most normal thing? 'Surreal' was putting it mildly. He had no idea whether Jen even vaguely felt the same, but since she'd apparently taken on a personal quest to teach the guy, she had to be more impervious than he was.

Also, didn't she find it at least remotely disconcerting to have something, someone, so unpredictable around? Allan already felt uncomfortable around 'regular' foreigners, not knowing their customs or the things that would unwittingly tick them off, but in their case he could at least go and inform himself somewhere. He'd have to ask Jen about it at some point, but for now it'd probably only give her more fuel to talk about her alien than she already had.

Allan fished a flash drive from his coat pocket and handed it to her. "I didn't forget, by the way."

"Oh, awesome!" Jen went over to her desk and plugged it into her laptop. She plopped into her chair, waiting for the files to come up.

Sonic gave Allan a sloppy salute. "Hey Al," he said.

"…Hello." Allan managed, trying not to stare too much.

Sonic studied him for a moment, then returned to his propped up position on the couch with a quiet grunt, attention back on the TV and what appeared to be an episode of Sesame Street.

Allan took a breath, then grabbed himself a stool to sit beside Jen. She'd already started to flip through the images he brought, pausing on a schematic of what she'd started calling a 'Star Post'. It was a simple depiction, clearly designed with a museum audience in mind, but the little captions held information that Allan hadn't expected to find. Like, how they'd found a maze of struts and pistons reaching deep into the ground beneath it—some even filled with an obscure liquid—, and frail layers of semi-transparent sheets encased in the pole's spherical tip, which had brought the idea of a circuit board to his mind. He'd kept wondering whether anyone had ever (not quite as literally) dug deeper on these things, but he hadn't found anything that went beyond.

"Curious, huh?" He said.

"You could say that," Jen mused, zooming in on the image. "Shame you can't see more detail…"

From the corner of his eye, Allan couldn't quite tell whether Sonic was just really focused on Grover demonstrating the concept of 'near' and 'far', or whether he was currently doing his best to keep a straight face watching Earth television. Whatever the case, Allan had for a moment felt more self-conscious than when his father had tried to deliver a 'clever' speech on his 21st birthday. He cringed inwardly.

Jen pulled him out of his thoughts. "Do you want to show him those pictures?" She asked quietly.

"Huh? Uh, n-no, maybe later."

She nodded, returning her attention to the computer, and Allan took another deep breath.

"Did you actually believe him when he told you how he got here?" he asked, keeping his voice low.

She paused for a moment. "I kinda did, yeah. But it feels good to know there's actually something to it—Oh look, a map."

He nodded. "I know. It looks as if they found these things all over the place."

Allan had been about as confused as he was relieved when he'd first seen the images. Confused, because until now he'd genuinely never heard anything relevant about those poles (and the only whack sci-fi movie he remembered that featured them had them act as some kind of power grid for a dyson sphere or something), and relieved, because it meant Jen's current housemate had possibly just multiplied his chances of finding a way home—and out of her mind.

"We so have to go there," she said, pointing at a location close-by. "Looks like it's in a forest. How about a hike next weekend?" Jen turned, facing Allan.

"Oh, sure, cool," he said.

»…That's gotta be impractical.« Sonic mused unintelligibly, and Allan turned to watch him again. Sonic had halfway tilted his head, watching a man and woman on screen tear at each others' clothes between kisses.

Allan grimaced. "Does he have to watch that?"

Jen turned as well. A smile tugged at her lipEmbarrassedssed?"

"No. Well, maybe, but there's so much weird stuff on there. Aliens shouldn't be judging us by our TV program."

"I'm pretty sure he knows what that was about."

"…Did you just imply something that I want to know?" Allan asked.

Jen shook her head, laughing. "No. But I don't care what he watches as long as it keeps him resting. Dude tried doing push-ups yesterday… No idea what he was thinking."

"Maybe his rib is not that bad, then?" Allan suggested.

The scene had cut to the two people waking up in bed and Sonic had apparently already lost interest, switching to another channel. He started watchinnews feedfeed about hurricane damages with a kind of underlying tension.

"Nah… he acts tough, but he gets all frustrated when he thinks I'm not looking. I hope he's halfway okay till Saturday."

Allan felt his lips press together. "...You want to take him?" he asked maybe a little too dryly. Why wasn't he surprised?

Jen studied him for a moment, frowning slightly.

"Well, I–" She sighed. "Even the closest spot looks like it's at least a half-hour drive away. I can't just hand him the map and let him walk there, can I?"

"So you wanna take him to a ride to each of these spots? Don't you think you're spending enough of your time with this already? That thesis isn't going to write itself," Allan said. Also, Sonic had managed to find a way to Yellowstone and back. Handing him a map seemed to be help enough.

She bit her lip. "What would you do? I don't think there's another way for him to get home. I could try and hook up with NASA, though."

"Very funny." Allan rolled his eyes. But she probably had a point. Anything else would just make this whole situation drag on forever—or make it even more complicated than it already was.

"Oh." Jen's face lit up with what seemed to be sudden realization. "We can—I mean, the two of us—Let's just take a trip to the nearest spot without him and I'll pick another one to take him to. There is something he wants to know, but we can probably just tell him how it went afterwards, and—"

Allan shook his head, interrupting her. "It's okay. I'll survive if he comes—on one condition, though."

Jen's face grew serious, and Allan barely managed to suppress the smile tugging at his lips. "I have plenty of time tonight and I didn't plan on spending it with Fuzz over there. So, how about we head out somewhere?"

Her eyes widened, then her face seemed to try and decide between indignation and amusement. Allan felt his cheeks heat up. "U—unless you can't leave him alone here," he added quickly.

She abruptly rose to her feet, shutting the lid to her notebook. "You bet I can. Let's go!"