What he said he would

“The ring took most of the night; we can try it out somewhere private. There's a physical trigger available - just tap the ring twice with the thumb on that hand - but ideally you'll want to find it with your aura and push into it that way...” He can apparently feel your expression as he continues, “...but that will take some training to do, and will be easier after you've triggered it a few times and have a good feel for what the ring wants from you. We can go into more detail once somewhere we can practice… I suggest booking a private gymnasium.”

“That's certainly not all…” you smile as you grab a bite of eggs.

“I will admit to spending considerably more time cleaning your body than was strictly necessary,” he chuckles, “I am still a man, and you are a beautiful young woman. There shouldn't be any residual soreness, and I only used your fingers for stimulation… it was a little late to go bar hopping when I was done with the ring.”

You are feeling a little floaty… “How many times did you manage? These eggs are much better than the ones in the dining hall, by the way.”

“I hit my time limit at number three,” he chuckles. “So good to be young, your body could have just kept going.”

If he's that good… “mind waking me up for it next time?”

“If you want,” he chuckles again.

You finish breakfast, pay up, buy a bluetooth out of the hotel gift shop, and call a cab. On the way back to the dorms, you ask your guest a question, wearing the bluetooth, “Am I weird?”

“You’re talking to a man who turned himself into a symbiotic ring so he can spend his days possessing people - with permission - to enjoy immortality,” your guest chuckles, “I don't think I can give you a useful answer.”

“Fair point…” you respond, leaning back into the seat. “Still.”

“You certainly accepted my existence a bit more readily than many of the hosts I've had over the years,” the ring replies, “but in this particular day and age ‘Supers’ are well-known and accepted, so that's… reasonable. The body sharing… well, I try to make a strong pitch: I'm not exactly a genie, but I suspect I'm the ultimate source for the legends of ring genies: I've only ever encountered the lamp variety myself, and most of those seemed rather upset at their long captivity… having been around for when Solomon set that up, though, I can assure you most of them deserved it.”

“Most?” You ask.

“Around eighty percent deserved it, as close as I could tell,” the ring speaks plainly, “around one in five genies were NOT cruel demons who tortured people for sport, and were caught up just because of what they were. The majority… I hope they stay buried. Do NOT go around rubbing lamps, by the way. If you find a pristine bronze oil lamp washed up on shore… do not rub it. Do not sell it. Do not give it to your worst enemy: He does not deserve that, and more importantly, neither does the rest of the world. The Wise King's Trick will not work a second time. Find a deep, dark hole to bury it, and pray nobody tries to free the trapped genie. The legend is partly true. If you find the real deal… and they do get washed up on sea shores from time to time when the weighted clay pots dumped over the side of Solomon's treasure ships break… and polish the accursed thing, the trapped genie is bound to provide one service - one Wish - for you in return fir freeing it. Anything you ask, within a certain set of rules. They will act subservient, nice, well spoken, kind, and humble. With four out of five, it's a lie. They are NOT required to speak the truth, but will absolutely claim they are if asked. The vast majority consider themselves superior to everyone… including other genies, which is actually how Solomon trapped them, but I digress…”

“You’re prone to that, I think.” You chuckle.

“Hazard of old age. Anyway… the point:” The ring circles back, “I'm a time traveler, yes, but it's not controlled travel. There's a big, nasty, world-rocking financial crash coming, but you don't need to worry about it unless we click well enough that neither of us ever feel the need to part ways.”

“Why would that matter?” You ask, carefully phrasing the question around the presence of the cabbie as he drives.

The ring doesn't need to worry about anyone listening in, however, as he's not really speaking. “I am an immortal symbiote. While we are linked, you have a share in my immortality. Should something cause you to die, then about thirteen minutes later, you'll be reset to when you first put me on yesterday: A little fatigued from your work day, wearing that same brown blouse and blue jeans, the same shoes, the same wallet, the same student ID in your wallet, the same phone in your pocket with the same remaining charge. Physically exactly as you were in that instant. There will be no loss of memory, no loss of self: You will remember everything up to and including the moment of ****.”

The cabbie parks, “We're here.”

“Why would anyone ever let you go with that kind of benefit on the table?” You nod thanks at the cabbie as you sign off on the ride app.

“Oh, lots of reasons…” the ring answers as you walk to your dorm, “...sometimes it becomes a little problematic that I can only give that benefit to one person at a time: I've been passed on so that a person could grow old and have a family with the love of their life. Sometimes a host starts using me as one might an object, forgetting I am a person with my own needs and wants… in which case, I simply leave: I am mobile, after all,” the ring wiggles a bit on your finger. “Also… the benefit can also be problematic…”