Honesty

“A lot, just not all at once, and not very strongly,” yet. I can change my Spheres talents on a daily basis… both of them. My vancian slots are fixed. “I can always fix scrapes, bend minds a little bit, make some light…” I shrug, “but it all takes concentration. The guy kept hitting me.” And Primordial Magic covers Cure Light Wounds, it just takes longer and is slightly less effective. I should swap that out at the first opportunity. “Give me a day or two and I can arrange to do a lot of different things… like this room… but only one at a time.” Maybe a bodyguard? I can make a Conjuration Companion last all day, and if it's already summoned… hmm… “I also have some ability at various things that will likely seem like magic,” because skills are abstracted, “although they're not the most reliable,” because a d20 is pretty swingy, and my bonuses aren't eclipsing the dice… yet. “I'm a weak klutz and a poor shot.” I tanked Strength and Dexterity. I can fix that at level two.

“But you're immortal, so you'll always win a fight eventually…” she considers.

I roll my eyes, “Only if you count outliving someone as winning. Also… I lose two to eight days every time, wake up naked where I died, and… well, dying sucks. I would not recommend it.”

“So if someone, say, locks you in an active incinerator that they leave running…” The detective is apparently pretty good at making connections.

I shudder, “Then I'd come back to life just to die burning, at least until my ashes fill the thing up or someone doesn't pay the energy bill.” I consider a bit, “Ah… why are you looking for ways to kill me?” Burial I could deal with… a few Warp talents and I'm free the next day. Burning… ugh.

“If I know how it might be done, I can think of how to keep it from happening…” she shrugs, “...call it a professional hazard.”

I nod slowly, “Okay. So… paperwork next, obviously, but after that… where do I sleep tonight,” not that I do, “and what do you have in mind?”

“I can offer you a bed and a little spending cash. I have a couple spare rooms at my place, and a small budget for civilian consultants. It's not much, you're going to need an actual job at some point, but if you can help out with cases I can keep you well enough until you can stand on your own.”

“All right,” I consider the fact that I'm still naked, having left the blanket back in real space… eh, whatever, not my body, and she's a woman anyway. Her eyes do tend to drift downwards, though… huh. The attention is not unwelcome… she's pretty enough: Black hair, athletic build, brown eyes, olive skin, looks vaguely Asian, a little taller than me, maybe B or C cups… hard to tell under the jacket. “Ah… what'd you find in lost & found?”

“Oh, right…” her cheeks turn red and she pulls a few things out of her purse: A pair of mismatched sandals, a huge purple hoodie from some local college, and a big red skirt.

It's a big purse, “I didn't see any underwear that looked like it might fit, because… well…” she swallows and gestures at the giant globes in front of me, “you're not exactly an ‘off the rack’ kind of gal.”

Eh, already spilled the big beans… “I'm a guy. My name is Dan. This body… it's not mine. Before…” I pause, because I can't say what I want, “...the event I can't talk about… I was physically male. I still am, inside.”

Alice licks her lips, blushing a bit more, and nods, “I'll try to keep it in mind. So I'm guessing you don't care about the exposure because it's not you I'm seeing?”

“Basically, yeah,” I shrug, and can't help but feel the jiggle in the jugs, “also, it feels nice to have a beautiful woman eyeing me up.” Wait… oh that was out loud. Ugh. “Anyway… are we ready for the sketch artist and other paperwork?”

“Soon as you're as decent as you're going to get, yeah,” the detective nods.

I squeeze into the hoodie, which barely manages to stretch over this body's boobs, yet leaves a gaping hole at the neck… I manage to use the drawstring on the hood to keep it on my shoulders, and roll up the sleeves enough to expose my hands, keeping the cloth in place with a couple of binder clips. The pants she brought don't stretch enough to get over the body's booty (they tear when we try), so we settle on just me wearing the hoodie like a dress. At least the flip-flops mostly work.

We head out, I let the camera work again, and we go through the paperwork: Sketch of the skeevy ****, the lie I agreed on with Detective Silver, the application for T Visa (using Alice's address and contact information for now, as I'm staying with her for the time being), and then she drives me home… this time in a beat-up red four-door civilian rig that looks old enough for biodiesel, with the back full of fast-food wrappers.

We get to her place….