The most wonderful thing about the mirror these days was that when she looked at it, Haven didn't see herself. She knew it was a lie, of course, that underneath the pale, shell-like coating of the sarcotesta the worst person ever to live was still there, but so long as she was inside it, hidden beneath its smooth and featureless exterior, she could pretend. Her eyes could linger on the hair, the bzer, the dress beneath it; her eyes could take in the whole and there was nothing about it that was remotely Haven-like about it.

  And what a relief that was. Even if it was a lie.

  Haven hadn't come to the office's bathroom to use it — that task was handled in much the same way as feeding, a perfunctory and mechanical process that involved exposing the sarcotesta's inner workings, though not where Haven had expected. Soon, though, according to Anix at least, she'd be eating again. And having to demonstrate her ability, or ck thereof, to cook for herself. At which point everything would fly to pieces.

  But that was Future Haven's problem. Present Haven was here, one hand on the counter, one hand on the office bathroom's mirror, pretending that Future Haven would never get here and neither would Future Haven's problems, when the door to the bathroom swung open and two other women walked in. The sarcotesta had reflexes, but they weren't that quick, and so it took nearly a full second for Haven's shock to make its way through her ersatz nervous system and for the sarcotesta itself to act out her startle.

  "Whoa," one of them said, ughing and holding up her hands. "Sorry, didn't mean to scare you!"

  "Yeah," the other said, "we didn't know anyone was- oh hey, you're Ms. Dvoretskaya's new secretary, right?"

  "Y-yes?" Haven mumbled, worrying the palm of one hand with the thumb of the other. She was going to wear a hole in the sarcotesta and all the gross Haven stuff was going to come spilling out and-

  "Ohmystars, they're so hot, lucky!" the first woman said, ughing. "I'm Petra, this is Ollie, welcome to the wonderful world of secretarial work!"

  Haven looked back and forth between the two for a long moment before she realized that she, too, needed to introduce herself. "Uhm...I'm Haven, hi." I'm such a fucking waste of space.

  "Soooo, spill the deets," Ollie said, twirling a lock of hair around her finger. "Are they, y'know, avaible?"

  Petra snorted. "Wasting no time."

  "I, uh-" Haven lifted a hand to her head to signal she was speaking out of character. "Do you mean in-game or out of game?"

  "Why not both?" Ollie said, mirroring the gesture and grinning. Petra cracked up next to her.

  "Well, we only got here less than a week ago, so... probably?" She tried very hard not to think about the kiss. She was not going to get in the way of Ms. Dvoretskaya finding a retionship that would actually make them happy.

  "Oooh, you came in on that ship," Petra said, her hand finally making its way up to her head. "The, uh, Tilndsia?" When Haven nodded, she added, "That's so cool! I've never been on a ship before! What was it like over there?"

  "I don't really know," Haven said, her nonexistent gut turning over in shame. "I was in a coma most of the time I was there."

  "Oh yikes," Ollie said, her eyes going wide. "Is that why the whole...?" She gestured vaguely at Haven.

  "Y-yeah. It's... like a full body cast, basically. So I can move around while I'm healing."

  "Well, you look really good for someone in a full-body cast," Petra said, winking. "Anyway, welcome to Parthenocissus, you're gonna love it here. Come get lunch with us, enjoy all the in-character gossip, we've got to get you roped into the surprise birthday party plot we've got running."

  "Sue hates surprise parties but none of us know that," Ollie added. "It's going to be such good drama when it all goes off."

  There was no way Haven could let herself ruin their fun. "Maybe another time? I'm just...a little overwhelmed right now, I think." Of course she immediately dumped all her problems right in their ps. She was a walking disaster area. The sooner she got away from these two, the better it would be for them.

  "Oh, no pressure!" Petra said. "All the business and capitalism stuff gets to me sometimes too. Do you want me to get a proctor?"

  "N-no," Haven aid, wavering on her feet. The st thing she needed was more Affini being convinced she was a wreck; Trish's warning was still hovering in the back of her mind. "I think, uhm, I'm just going to get back to Ms. Dvoretskaya's office?"

  "Okay, well, don't worry," Ollie said, "Sue's in-character birthday isn't for like, a week and a half minimum, so there's plenty of time to get you involved if you want!"

  "Sure," Haven said, wishing desperately that she had a throat to swallow nervously with. "Some other time..." Without another word she slipped past the other two and out into the hall, heels clicking on the floor and echoing from the walls. She did it again; she managed to fuck up basic social interactions. She was going to get home and Anix was going to look at her tablet and immediately see that she was a complete failure without any redeeming qualities whatsoever. She was done for, without question — and while she deserved it, whoever would occupy her body after her certainly didn't, and neither did the affini who would be stuck caring for her. Not even a complete mindwipe and personality transpnt could make her tolerable to be around.

  Ms. Dvoretskaya was standing in the doorway of their office, gncing through a file folder and idly chewing on their lower lip as they turned the pages one by one. They gnced up when they heard Haven's footsteps, and for some reason their eyes seemed to light up the minute they saw her. "Hey you," they said, smiling at her in a way she didn't, had never, and would never deserve. "Back from lunch already?"

  "...not very hungry," she mumbled. That felt like an appropriate in-character response, even if she didn't really eat, and certainly not at work. The st thing she wanted to do was fuck up Ms. Dovertskaya's game for them.

  Unfortunately, if the look on Ms. Dvoretskaya's face was anything to go by, she'd already done just that. "Hey, you okay?" they said, making the out-of-character gesture.

  "I'm fine," Haven lied, returning it. "Just...people. I think I'd rather be here, if that's okay." There. Now she could tell Haven to fuck off and never come back and-

  "Of course it's okay," Ms. Dvoretskaya said, foiling Haven's best-id pns and sentencing themself to Haven's presence, a punishment no one deserved. "You want me to hang the game break pcard on the door?"

  Haven shook her head, forcing herself to focus and control her voice when next she spoke. "No, we can keep pying. I'm fine, really."

  "If you say so," Ms. Dvoretskaya said, giving Haven a look she couldn't quite read. "Well, the numbers are looking good, I've finished everything I need to for the morning, I haven't got a meeting for an hour, and you've got more than enough time to get my notes typed up and filed before end-of-day, so-" Their grin returned, a little different this time. "It seems we've got some time to kill."

  "I...guess?" Haven wasn't entirely sure where this was going, but she wasn't going to ruin Ms. Dvoretskaya's fun.

  "You guess?" They chuckled, took a step forward and — okay, Haven thought, this doesn't make any sense — put a hand on Haven's hip. "You guess?" Her other hand gently lifted Haven's chin. "I think we can do better than 'guess.'"

  "Ms. Dvo-" She stopped short; Ms. Dvoretskaya was kissing her again and not only did she not want to interrupt, but what did one even say to that? Once had been unprecedented, inconceivable, unprocessable in the moment. Now it was becoming a pattern. Their hand on her hip pulled her in close, pressing her against their body, the sarcotesta faithfully reying the scent of their cologne, the weight of their body.

  Haven had no idea what to do. No one had ever kissed her like this before, not even Ms. Dvoretskaya — that first kiss had been a gentle, hesitant thing, but this was a thing of hunger, forceful, powerful, unavoidable. She hadn't done anything to deserve this kind of attention, and even if she had she wouldn't deserve it anyway. Ms. Dvoretskaya's other hand ran slowly down her shoulder, down her body to mirror its twin on her hip, holding her in pce as they felt her contours. The sarcotesta's contours, Haven reminded herself. She didn't have any curves. She wasn't real. She was just hiding beneath it, beneath the curves that Ms. Dvoretskaya's hands were tracing, sliding along her hips, her butt, her thighs. Before she knew what was happening, those hands were lifting her up off the ground and setting her on the edge of her desk, sliding down her legs and up under her skirt to caress her thighs.

  And the whole time, they never broke the kiss.

  "Oooh, pancakes! With-" Piper took a deep sniff. "Cinnamon? Ooooh!"

  "I thought ordinary pancakes might be a touch too simple," Scoparia said, smiling and patting Piper on the head as she set down the rest of the meal on the table — perfectly cooked bacon, soft-boiled eggs, whole-wheat toast, and an artfully arranged ptter of at least six kinds of fruit, some of which were native neither to Solstice nor Earth.

  There was nothing more annoying, Trish thought, than the Affini need to overdo themselves at every opportunity. "Thanks," she said, knowing full well she was being graded on politeness points like she was a preschooler or something. Given the elevated chairs she and Piper were sitting in to be boosted up to the level of the too-tall table, it was an apt comparison. "So. How hard you think it'll be to get an elevator car going back down?"

  "Well, probably not very," Piper said, chewing on a piece of bacon. "But why would I leave? I just got here! And wow, Parthenocissus is amazing! The vids I've seen did not do it justice."

  "It's quite a nice little orbital habitat, isn't it?" Scoparia said, taking a much-more-normally-proportioned seat at the table.

  "Yeah! I mean, I thought New Landfall was amazing — and, well, it kinda is! — but this is something else completely. I've only ever seen Beacon up close, you know?"

  "Mmm. My time there was short, but it seemed a perfectly quaint little town," Scoparia agreed. "A very firm commitment to an aesthetic. I can appreciate that."

  "Anyway," Piper continued, shoving the rest of the bacon into her mouth and chewing for a moment, "it'll be super easy whenever, I'll just do what I did to get up here." She csped her hands together, put on a pout, and lifted her eyes heavensward with a pleading expression. "Pleaaaaaase?"

  The biorhythmic frisson from Scoparia was palpable, a sudden jump that rapidly calmed itself. "Awww, aren't you just the most capable little sophont?" she purred, scritching Piper behind the ear. Piper giggled and leaned into the touch.

  Trish set her jaw for a moment. Doing so now would be a terrible idea, but at some point she was going to have to have a talk with Piper about how dangerous that kind of tactic was. It worked, sure — but it also made the affini you used it on much more likely to take an interest in you, and that was never a good thing. "It's quite a jump, from Beacon to here. Be careful you don't get overwhelmed."

  "Pssh. I'm fiiine, Auntie Trish," Piper said, rolling her eyes and cutting wedge out of her stack of pancakes. "I was probably gonna come up here sooner or ter anyway. Beacon's nice and all and I've got some friends there but it's kinda small and sleepy, and there's so much out here, here and in New Landfall! And I wanna see it." She pulled the mouthful of pancake off her fork with her teeth and set about chewing with all the nonchance as if she'd decred she was going down to the corner pharmacy for some more of her xenodrug chewables.

  The words were out before she could stop herself. "You've got to be more careful, Piper, if you keep this up, then-" Her eyes finally caught the motion of Scoparia leaning in over the table, her smile dangerously pleasant.

  "Then what, Trish?" Cold, saccharine menace radiated from every single one of her vines. "What negative outcome do you think could possibly befall such a precious sophont?"

  Piper tried to speak up - "Itf okeh, Ms. Scopr-" - but was silenced by a vine against her lips.

  "Don't talk with your mouth full, dear, it's very cute but poor manners. Now then, Trish, your answer?" She had never once directed her stare away from Trish. It held her pinioned on the spot. She wasn't going to let up until she got her answer.

  Fuck. This might be it. Trish curled one hand into a clenched fist and took a deep breath. "She doesn't need to be domesticated."

  "Then whatever are you so concerned about?" Scoparia leaned in closer, her voice level, her cadence steady. "What could possibly have you so worried if, as you say, Piper is an upstanding independent sophont, totally capable of caring for herself? Surely, if she's equipped for such a task, you needn't worry. What has you so concerned? Answer."

  "I don't want her to get domesticated!" The words were out before she could stop herself, and angry bile rose in her throat. "And that was both uncalled for and rude."

  "Rude, perhaps, but very necessary for this process," Scoparia said, leaning back but keeping her gaze firmly fixed on Trish, for all that it was a show — she didn't need to point her eyes at Trish to see everything she was doing. "It's as I feared. You're carrying trauma over the domestication of Roderick and Megan Cucurbita, First and Second Florets Pinnate in addition to your inability to accept the domestication of Lay Sequi, First Floret. Unsurprising, but unfortunate. The knot I must unravel has become that much more complicated."

  "Miss Scoparia?" Piper had swallowed, and gently moved the vine away from her mouth. "I don't think it's that weird for Auntie Trish to still be a little messed up about Mom and Dad getting domesticated. I mean, I was messed up about it for a while, too. It just takes old people longer to get over stuff."

  On one hand, Trish appreciated Piper coming to her defense. On the other hand: old people.

  "You are very loyal besides being very precious, Piper," Scoparia said, patting Piper on the head again, "but this goes deeper than mere shock over an apparently sudden domestication. I say apparently because to the Bureau of Xenosophont Wellness it was an ongoing concern for some time, though not a deep enough one in my opinion, as they didn't excise the root of the problem."

  "I am not a problem!"

  "But Freedom's Ember is," Scoparia retorted. "Without that book, it's highly unlikely that Roderick and Megan would have required domestication in the first pce. That feralism didn't simply spring up from nowhere — it was introduced. By you. And now you feel responsible for what you consider to be a negative outcome, despite it being no such thing."

  "They didn't need to have their personalities erased!" One hand clenched, one hand gripping the table, Trish wished she could storm to her feet, but there was no chance of that with them dangling almost a meter off the floor. "But that's what you did, because all you have is a hammer and everything looks like a damned nail to you!"

  "And because you feel responsible," Scoparia continued, "you feel guilt. But guilt does not marry with your feralist conception of right and wrong, and so that guilt becomes frustration and anger, which causes you to sh out like this when confronted with the consequences of your own ill-considered actions. Piper, flower," she said, turning to the girl, "would you say that your parents are happier as florets?"

  "I mean, yeah," Piper said. She was slightly hunched up, idly pushing a piece of bacon around her pte with her fork. "But like, can we not fight over it?"

  "No one is fighting, little one," Scoparia said, stroking her with one hand and letting one of her thumbs linger to run little circles behind Piper's ear. Again, she leaned into the touch and sighed. "Please don't be concerned."

  "Okay," she said, "but you're making Auntie Trish really upset."

  "Unfortunately, this happens sometimes in wardships, petal. It's a necessary thing for healing, however that comes about."

  "No doubt you can't wait to 'heal' me the same way you 'healed' Rod and Meg," Trish spat. She'd seen what had become of them exactly once — sucking on pacifiers, clutching stuffed animals, and dead to the world in front of an episode of some floret TV show or another — and it had horrified her so much that she'd barely slept for a week after.

  "I think your difficulties stem from a very different source than from improper education and caregiving," Scoparia said, twisting the knife. "So no, as much as you'd make an adorable little sprout, I doubt very much that'd be your future owner's solution."

  Anger seethed behind Trish's eyes, burning, itching. "You can make whatever excuses you want," she hissed. "Pin it on a book whose only crime is imagining the potential for a world without you, and what we would need to survive it. You can't even tolerate the existence of that idea, you're so high on your own product."

  "Trish, my wildflower, I don't know how to expin it to you any more clearly than it no doubt already has been that we would never allow such an eventuality to come to pass." Her voice had become strangely sad and gentle, and that only made Trish even angrier — she did not appreciate being talked down to. "You will never be abandoned. That is our promise to you. I understand that you were conditioned by the wild to disbelieve such promises, but you no longer live in the wild, and you never will again."

  Trish couldn't repress the shudder she felt. "You understand how that's not exactly reassuring, right?"

  "From your fwed perspective, yes. That is the gift and curse of empathy." She let out a performative sigh and shook her head. "Well, at least we've staunched the bleeding. Now all that remains is to tend the wound."

  "Ick," Piper said, wincing.

  "Oh, my apologies petal," Scoparia said. "Poor metaphor for the dining table?"

  "To say the least," Trish grumbled, shoveling a bite of now-cold bacon into her mouth.

  "Well...perhaps it's best we leave it there, then. There are preparations I must attend to, in any case. Your preliminary wardship hearing has been scheduled, and I'll need to present a report on your prospects, which means I need to really start digging into what Xenoveterinary Archeobureaucracy managed to unearth on you."

  "Delightful," Trish grumbled. "Can't wait for your immediate recommendation of a frontal lobotomy."

  "I would never recommend such a barbaric procedure," Scoparia said, putting on a mask of horror. "We have xenodrugs for that sort of thing!"