“Were you planning on sleeping all day?” The voice of Grent wakes the duo up.

  “Ughh...” Amethyst groans as bright lights assail her narrowed eyes.

  “Just a little longer...”

  “Come on get up, I uhh, I even made you breakfast.”

  Frank’s been awake for a while already, and his keen eyes find Grent’s head poking from behind the half-open blue door.

  “Breakfast in bed? Wow, you shouldn’t have.”

  “Good, because it’s in the lunchroom.” Grent slams the door shut.

  “Lunch...room?” Amethyst asks still sleepy.

  “I guess there are even more rooms here,” Frank says and sits up on the side of his bed.

  They get up from their beds, leaving them a mess.

  Frank’s unmade, unlike Amethyst’s who didn’t even use the blanket.

  However, her bed is already a bit scruffy and worn from her armor and blades tearing into the sheets in her sleep.

  They enter and explore beyond the same blue door Grent came to wake them up from.

  A narrow corridor opens up before them, a little cramped for Amethyst.

  Its walls are surprisingly colorful, the upper part light blue and the lower white, divided into two segments accurately from the middle.

  A door to the right lies in the middle, and another one at the end.

  Frank goes first and opens the plain middle door, peering inside.

  “Looks to be the bathroom, showers, and a sauna?”

  “Sauna…? Let me see.”

  Amethyst crams herself behind Frank and looks into the room.

  The exposed cave floor continues even into the showers, a floor drain and showers on the left, ahead of which a glass door leads into the sauna, the bottom fourth of the door missing.

  The whole room is quite sizeable, though the door blocks the view to the right.

  “What is a sauna?”

  Amethyst presses against Frank and tries to peer further into the room.

  Frank steps into the room before he gets shoved in and Amethyst squeezes through the doorway too.

  “It’s a room you heat up to high temperatures to sweat and relax in.”

  Frank walks ahead and opens the glass door for her.

  “Really? That’s strange.”

  Amethyst walks halfway in and peers inside, two long rows of shining wooden sauna benches attached to the walls in a stair-like cascading manner.

  A similar, but much smaller, stool-like bench sits before them, serving as a foothold to get up to the rest.

  On its right, a large rectangular electric stove, open from the top, filled with asteroid-like, porous stones, sits in the corner proudly.

  “I’m not a big sauna guy myself, but its health benefits are the real thing.

  It relieves stress and unwinds the body and mind. Most of all it is a social space.”

  Amethyst looks at the low ceiling and the benches that rise toward it, determining she wouldn't fit, not that the thin wood planks would not be pierced, or at the very least, chipped by her sharp feet.

  “Though I doubt it would be pleasant for you with your unremovable armor and everything.”

  Or I dunno, maybe she’d be fine?

  Her body still has to somehow regulate her temperature? Unless she really is cold-blooded.

  Amethyst steps out and Frank closes the glass door.

  “How hot is it when warmed up?”

  “Like minimum sixty degrees Celsius, I think, and up to 120.”

  “Is that lower or higher than what it takes to melt steel?”

  “Uhh, way- like a lot lower?” Frank strokes his hair and gets his hands stuck to a tangled clump of hair.

  “I think, tho I’m not sure what steel’s melting point is exactly...”

  “Hah, I could probably take it then.”

  “What do you mean?” Frank asks as they are leaving the washroom.

  “My armor… insulates(?) my skin from the heat of my blades.”

  Amethyst inflection rises to a question, as she wonders if the word meant what she thought it did.

  “Wanna see?”

  Amethyst’s crystals light up and she’s holding a bladed hand to her stomach armor.

  “N-no! It’s fine.”

  “Aww… okay.”

  Her glow fades before her hands can catch flame in the cramped corridor.

  Frank opens the door at the end of the corridor and steps inside, to what appears to be the rumoured lunchroom.

  The floor is less rugged, one could call it polished even, unlike the corridors. It’s more of a modest breakroom than a kitchen, just outfitted with a basic stove and a sink, with a microwave on the side table and a moderately sized round table in the middle.

  Bunch of drawers underneath a stone kitchen stage, with a random assortment of appliances on the top, including a sandwich grill.

  Some of the machines look like they are handcrafted by the clinic's residents from whatever was available.

  A door at the other side of the room leads to the left.

  Grent is taking some plates from the dish-draining closet, as they enter he turns to them.

  “Frank… what are you wearing?” He asks with a deadpan face.

  “What do you mean? I’m wearing plenty,” Frank presents himself with a wave of his hand, only boxers covering him up.

  “Besides this is our most natural state, isn’t that right Amethyst?”

  “Of course!” She steps to his side, and looks Frank up and down, stopping to stare at his chest.

  “What are those red lines?”

  “Oh, these? Remember when Pineapple jumped on me yesterday?”

  “Ah-”

  “Technically it’s still today… And that beast did those?” Grent interrupts them.

  “Take it with you when you leave, won’t you? For some Goddess forsaken reason it seems to be way too fond of spending time with me in my lab…”

  Grent places a plate with a massive sandwich, consisting of crispy and very slightly charred toast, bursting with molten cheese, on the table.

  Cut diagonally, it glistens with grease on the surface and wafts a delectable aroma.

  “Its presence is not helping me progress my research at all!”

  He throws his hands in the air to prove his frustration.

  “Where is Pineapple right now, anyway?” Frank asks, walking past the stopped Tyrchid and taking a seat on the dark wooden chair with a backrest and a small pink cushion.

  He grabs the plate and eagerly digs in, he had regretted postponing eating till the morning all night.

  Nice job keeping watch on him Pineapple!

  Amethyst carefully nudges a chair from underneath the table with her blade and takes a seat next to Frank.

  “I don’t know where, it’s like the textbook definition of the extinct cats of Earth, could be anywhere by now.”

  “Oh well, fair enough. Pineapple sure is just like it, right? Straight out of the ancient history books.” Frank says.

  “It is strange, but I suppose that’s just evolution, can’t always be churning out monsters like Amethyst.”

  “Hey!” She shouts in protest but is distracted as Grent brings her a warm sandwich in front of her, after which he takes a seat across the table.

  “Will you be alright Amethyst?” Frank asks as Amethyst looks at the massive sandwich perplexed.

  “Yeah... I’ll just carefully cut this here and…”

  Amethyst slices the toast vertically from one side to the other and then mirrors the movement, ending up with four pieces.

  She heats up her blades and the sticky cheese evaporates from her blades, a slight burnt smell spreads in the room.

  Lowering her head, she gobbles down each triangle one after the other, as quickly as her mandibles can shove them down her throat.

  In just a few seconds, her breakfast is finished.

  Grent looks wide-eyed at what just happened.

  “Mmmm,” she looks down at the empty plate.

  “Grent are your plates faulty? This one has scratches on it.”

  “You just made those, dummy! They’re even in the shape of an X!”

  “Whaaat? But I was being so careful! Are you sure you just didn’t give me a plate like this to mess with me?”

  “Why would I do that? I’m, not a kid or something who’d play pranks.”

  “Could have fooled me,” Frank quips.

  “Aww... sorry plate. I’ve scarred you for life...”

  “Don’t worry, it’s just a plate Amethyst.”

  Frank consoles, but Grent continues his sentence:

  “-and now we’ll know which is yours in the future too!”

  “Oh…”

  Frank covers his mouth and chuckles.

  “You break it, so you’ll have to use it” Grent continues.

  “It’s not broken!”

  Grent laughs too.

  “Well I suppose not quite,” Frank adds.

  “Why are you both laughing!?” She pouts.

  “Sorry, sorry...”

  “It’s just... you are so human,” Grent adds, wiping his eyes moist with hilarity.

  “Oh…” Amethyst’s upset face changes into sadness and as she looks down, her sight hits and clings to the plate.

  In the moment, she felt a certain kinship with the banged-up ceramic dish.

  Just like it, she would never be the same again, forever changed against her will.

  Its pristine shining surface, ruined, different from its peers in the cupboard, ever the outsider.

  Neither whole nor broken.

  “Anyway, have you decided, what will we do about the Tyrchids?” Grent asks.

  Frank and Grent look at Amethyst expectantly, though Frank with worry mixed in seeing her expression and vacant gaze.

  She slowly lifts her gaze from her partner in fate.

  “Well... I think we should gather some fruit and try and make friends with them. There’s this one berry that I- we really like. I think...”

  “Will that really be enough?”

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  “I… I did try to talk with the one who tried to attack you Frank, I’m not sure if I got through.”

  “You mean with your own language? That’s what the weird buzzing was about?” Frank comments as he finishes the last of the warm toast.

  “Yeah.”

  “What did you say to it?”

  “Friend.”

  “Wait a second, you have your own language?” Grent leans on the table, over his empty plate.

  “I’ve never really thought of it that way, but yeah, I guess.”

  “Doesn’t having a language to communicate make them basically sapient already?” Frank asks hopeful.

  “Well, not necessarily, even birds communicate with their kin with different chirps, alerting of danger, setting up their territory, and the like.

  I suppose it depends on the complexity.

  If they can learn new words, expand their vocabularies, form more complex sentences…”

  “What kind of words does the Tyrchid language have?” Frank asks

  “They are all just simple things, like food, friend, danger…”

  “Well that doesn’t really mean anything at this point, the need to innovate, to make changes and better your living conditions is the basis of advancement.

  If they have no need to form complex sentences or build their own culture, barter, and the like, they could just ‘choose’ to not develop it further” Grent concludes.

  “Hmm, that’s true I suppose, we’ll just have to go and see what they’re really all about then.”

  “Sorry, I can’t be more helpful… I remember some knowledge I had before… However, my memories of my past are… hazy, I don’t know if I’ve forgotten if it’s some side effect or...”

  “Don’t worry, we will just have to find out then.”

  “Yeah,” Amethyst smiles.

  “Thanks for the breakfast Grent. Are you gonna come with us or?”

  “Nah, I’ll leave that to you, I’ve got stuff to do,” He dismisses the notion with an uninterested wave of his hand.

  “Oh, what could that be then?” Amethyst asks a loaded question.

  “W-Well, you know perfectly well what I’m talking about, research for resurrecting my wife. M-maybe I’ll even run some numbers for you.

  Maybe I can get an approximate chance of success in Tyrchid’s survival rate using your previous scanned data when exposed to the mind ray and adjust it based on what you’ve told me so far”

  My previously scanned data?

  “Hmm... fine then, but if you do anything bad me and Pineapple will know.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  “Yeah, and you better hope it’s Pineapple who’ll dish out the punishment for breaking a promise,” Amethyst raises a hand blade that glistens under the artificial light and stands up from the chair.

  Grent swallows “R-right.”

  “Anyway, mind if I use the shower first? And Grent since this is a clinic, surely you’ve got some spare supplies like bandages, disinfectant, and the like? Just in case, you know.”

  Amethyst glares at Frank.

  “Just a precaution… can’t be too careful” Frank looks at Amethyst pleadingly as he slides the chair underneath the table, but bangs its backrest on it instead.

  “Fine, I guess. Towels are in the cabinet in the shower room and you should find some medical supplies in the ward you're staying in.”

  “Oh and maybe pack some sandwiches as lunch for us, who knows how long we’ll be there,” Frank asks.

  “What? Am I your mom or something? You can do that yourself”

  “Can I do our lunch?”

  Amethyst eagerly suggests, her many eyes sparkling with excitement.

  “Argh… fine I’ll do you some packed lunch…” Grent says with a mocking tone of voice.

  “Won’t have a kitchen to return to otherwise…” he mutters under his breath and leaves the room.

  “Nice work Amethyst” Frank gives her a thumbs up and also leaves the room, through the other door with a small backward wave.

  Amethyst stands there, left completely alone.

  What am I supposed to do in the meantime?

  She sits back down at the table and resigns to just wait.

  Soon her thoughts begin to wander again, as she looks at her reflection on the plate’s surface.

  The large X’s unreflective surface cuts her eyes out of her image.

  What if my plan doesn’t work?

  Maybe they remember us from yesterday, having forever labeled us hostile.

  If they attack us on sight… could I even fight back?

  What if I have to… kill...

  They didn’t recognize me before… shouldn’t they know their kin?

  Shouldn’t I know them?

  Amethyst tries to dig into her memories of the time before Grent scrambled her mind.

  Only sudden, singular flashes remain of moments, of some events from her previous life.

  The faces of other Tyrchids are blurry and unrecognizable.

  Like an old projector, spinning a reel way too fast, the film being damaged and worn, just grayness and static remaining on the canvas of her mind.

  She remembers no names, no appearances of anyone.

  Only the stern slightly wrinkled face of her mother, of Queen.

  But that is only because Amethyst saw her after she herself… changed.

  Her appearance seems absent from her old memories entirely.

  She remembers some bits and pieces of her home, of the forest, but the memories do not have anything visual associated with them.

  Her Tyrchid instincts, the basic knowledge of her kind remained, but… where was everything else?

  A tear splashes into the white, uneven crevice.

  She raises her head so that she can see her eyes in her reflection: they are the dejected eyes of an outcast.

  Her sclera grows slightly greener as her veins gather more blood in them.

  She couldn’t bear to look at herself and closed her eyes, a few more drops of liquid forlorn dropped down, forming a perfect half sphere on the smooth plate, another falling onto a piece of still soft, spilled cheese.

  The tear splays around it upon hit, the unexpected obstacle breaking its form.

  “...”

  Maybe… just maybe... she would remember something after meeting more Tyrchids, some she had been friends with before.

  The Tyrchid language contained the word for Friend, so it had to be true. They had to exist, she had only been away for a few days after all.

  It was just a matter of finding those who knew her, those she’d recognize.

  Grent smacks the door open and Amethyst flinches and looks away from him.

  Without saying a word, Grent rattles a bunch of stuff on the table from his lap. And by the sound of it, starts picking up the plates.

  As Grent steps near her, Amethyst turns to look at him, furious.

  His extended hand grasping at her plate, disappears to the safety of his own personal space.

  “What? I’ll just wash the plate for you.”

  Amethyst realizes just how she looked at Grent and forces a softer expression.

  “Go ahead.”

  Grent carefully picks up the plate and proceeds to the sink.

  The gentle flow of water and the clinking of dishes fill the room.

  “So… if you don’t mind me asking… just what exactly happened between you and Amande?”

  “...”

  “Come on, okay, let me be more specific, how did you speak with her?”

  He glances backward a bit as he scrubs the plates in the sink, awaiting a response.

  “Fine... whenever I lost consciousness, I could sense her thoughts, hear her speech in my mind.”

  “I see… unconsciousness, neither mind in control, opening up the channel for two minds to interact and mingle as equals. Hmm... Let me guess, soon after that you started to lose yourself.”

  “I guess, I started hearing her sometimes even when awake, and experienced more frequent thoughts that didn’t belong to me.

  Near the end, I started having blanks in my memories just from a few seconds ago too...”

  Amethyst speaks slowly and quietly, her voice almost drowning under the dishwashing.

  “I’m sorry, that must have been tough.”

  “I don’t need your pity.”

  “Fine, it should have been Amande who came back.”

  “What?”

  Amethyst’s tone sends shivers down Grent’s back and through his scalp, feeling like her brown hair might just lift off his head.

  “Not in the mood for jokes, huh?”

  “…”

  “It’s more than enough that you came back with the knowledge of Amande’s resurrection being possible, don’t take it so seriously.”

  “You’re lying,” Amethyst seethes.

  “I’m not lying.”

  Frank opens the door to the room, fully dressed in his usual light green shirt and a shade darker jacket. His teal trousers bag on top of his bare feet.

  “So this is what it feels like to have clean hair again, I...”

  As he sets his eyes on the two awaiting him in the room, their oppressive atmosphere causes him to trail off.

  “Perfect, you’re here,” Grent says and lifts the last of the plates into the dish-draining closet and closes the doors, proceeding to walk away.

  “You can do your own toasts or whatever then. Some disinfectant and crap are on the table along with a box to put your bread and stuff in.”

  He slams the door and leaves before Frank can get a word in.

  “What’s up with him?”

  “I don’t k- I don’t… care.”

  Frank twirls the towel around his long hair and into a tube, as he lets go of it, it stays on his head.

  “Well, I can understand, I can hardly expect you to get along with Grent”

  Frank strolls to the fridge casually and opens it.

  “Just know if you want to talk about it, I’ll listen.”

  He closes the door with a push of his foot, with a lap full of sandwich-making ingredients.

  “I-if you don’t want to, that’s fine too.”

  “He’s just so… infuriating-”

  Frank rustles a plastic bag and takes out bread from inside of it.

  “Oh sorry, please continue.”

  “-inconsiderate, terrible, selfish...”

  “Mmhm, you just described Grent alright. At least, given I barely know him.”

  What did Amande possibly see in him? How could she defend him?

  “Not to defend him-” Frank suddenly surprises Amethyst as he uses the same word she just thought of.

  “but you haven’t exactly had the best start to form a friendship or anything.”

  “And whose fault is that? How could I ever forgive him?”

  “Maybe, you will, in time. Who knows.”

  If you don’t, our stay here might be quite rocky…

  “Was I… mistaken in letting him stay?”

  Surely he would be as safe anywhere else in the Galaxy as here.

  “I can’t really say,” Frank chops some vegetables on a cutting board, loudly.

  “If nothing else he is pretty smart.”

  “A smart-ass maybe.”

  Was that word really included in Grent's vocabulary package…?

  “Alright, sandwiches are done, maybe once we return we can eat something else than bread.”

  It’s not like the fridge exactly had anything else… Does he just live off bread and toppings?

  “I’ll just get my backpack, pack all this up and we’ll go?”

  “Okay…”

  Once Frank leaves the room, Amethyst stands up, creeps up to the dish closet, and carefully wedges it open with a blade.

  Inside: glasses, cutlery, and an orderly row of plates, side by side.

  From their side profiles, Amethyst can't find the one who was hurt on the inside.

  Only from the subtle drops of water on their surface, could she determine the three recently used ones.

  As she peers closer to the three plates, to her surprise, she notices the first is chipped from the edge, a piece missing.

  The second one is also marred, a large scar running across its bottom, more hidden from sight than the first’s.

  The third one was completely intact, apart from the new glaring X mark on its surface.

  All of the three plates are injured, abused, or shamed in their own ways, some obvious from the outside, even at a glance, but most, only visible upon closer inspection.

  The scars—veiled—until viewed from certain angles, until their damaged side is opened up to the world.