[X] Let them unpack and relax. It's been a rough day for everyone.
-[X] Help Honey
"We've all had a very long day, and I'm willing to bet none of you have had a chance to unpack yet," you say calmly. "Why don't we just take it easy? You can get yourselves situated and just relax."
"Phft, boring!" Zophar remarked, leaning back in his chair and stretching.
"You can't live out of your suitcase for an entire year," you remind him before smiling. "Though if you'd rather stay down here and help me with the dishes, you're welcome to."
"Yeah right!" he objects, causing Clyde to chuckle. The centaur rises to help you clear out the rest of the dishes while Zophar scurries upstairs with Honey slinking along behind.
"Still nothing from Georgia?" he asks as you start running the water in the sink.
"She'll be down when she's ready," you answer with confidence you don't quite feel. "I've got some food saved up for her."
The huge man nods, but his frown betrays his true mood. You crane your neck back to look him in the eye.
"Georgia's a big girl, Clyde, and you aren't her father. This was her choice."
"Wasn't a choice she should've had to make, Doc. I didn't have any right asking her to go through that for me. No matter which way you slice it, she got hurt 'cause I screwed up."
"If it hadn't been this, it would have been something else. The Board is xenophobic as a rule, and you guys are a 'xeno' as it gets. In a way, we got lucky." He looks skeptical at this, so you continue. "Could you imagine how she'd have felt if they were coming here because of something she'd done?"
He snorts with grim humor.
"Poor girl would be beside herself with guilt."
"...just like you are. Clyde, the only person blaming you for what happened is you," you point out. "Georgia knew it wasn't your fault. Why do you think she volunteered?"
"Heh. Can't really argue with that, I guess," the centaur says, placing a huge hand on your shoulder. "Thanks for the pep talk, Doc. Don't think I'm gonna really feel better until she comes out of that room though. I'm gonna go upstairs and unpack, if you don't mind. Keeping busy will take my mind off it."
You nod, letting him clop carefully out of the room without another word. There wasn't really anything else to say. Once you hear him begin thudding up the stairs, you reorient yourself to focus your full attention on your task. Within fifteen minutes you have the dishwasher loaded and running, and the pans you used have been scoured, dried, and put back away. Between Clyde, Zophar, and the portion you had been saving for Georgia there weren't any leftovers to speak of, which simplified things. Thank god the government would be paying your food bill for the next year, or these four would eat you out of house and home.
Walking up the stairs, you realize you now have nothing to do. You could probably curl up in a chair somewhere for a bit of time to yourself, but frankly Clyde wasn't alone with his feelings of guilt. You were technically far more responsible for Georgia's current state than he was, after all. Besides, relaxing while others worked wasn't your style.
You consider helping Clyde, but after your discussion you have a feeling the big centaur might need some space. The idea of Zophar unpacking actually makes you cringe: the arachne was probably just stuffing everything into whatever drawers were handy. You doubted he'd take well to you insisting he actually use some form of organizing system. That just left Honey. You'd actually made some pretty good strides with the slime lately, considering you'd only known her for a day. You hadn't really interacted much with her one-on-one either.
Your mind made up, you walk over to Honey's door and knock politely. You get no answer, so you try again. Still nothing.
"Honey?" you call, trying to somehow keep your voice soft enough to avoid disturbing Georgia but loud enough to clearly carry through the door.
A large tendril of slime oozes out from under the door and assumes the smiling visage of Honey. The sight is...discomforting, to say the least.
"Yes?" asks the pink head pleasantly.
"You didn't answer my knocks, so I wanted to make sure you are alright."
Honey looks confused at this, and it occurs to you that she might not actually know what knocking on a door was supposed to mean.
"When someone knocks on a door, like this," you explain, tapping the wooden surface three times with your knuckles, "it means they're asking permission to come in."
"Why?"
"Because a person's room is their personal space. It's considered rude to go in without the owner's permission."
Honey regards your statement thoughtfully.
"Was a black and white creature, near meadow. Had sharp claws, teeth. Did not like when others entered hole it slept in," the slime recounts. "Would attack them. Only I could enter. Could not hurt me."
"Yeah, it's kind of like that," you agree, but she still seemed puzzled by something.
"Why knock?" inquired the appendage-head. "Can just ask."
"It's hard to hear people through closed doors, and it's also considered rude to yell when you are inside."
"Rude..." puzzles Honey, before something seems to occur to her. "Others often yell. Are they...rude?"
"Well, Zophar maybe," you admit, shooting a glance at his closed door. "But it's alright to be loud sometimes if you are in trouble or are surprised."
Like when a sentient pile of ooze is trying to molest you...
"So many rules..." murmurs the head, drooping in dejection. You decide a change of topic might be in order.
"Can I come in, Honey?" you ask, returning to the question that had started all this. The tendril bobs, sliding back under the door. You try the knob and find it unlocked, so you cautiously push it open. The pink ooze is standing a few feet in front of you, her form now completely back to normal. Deciding that while letting her get between you and the exit was a bad idea, trying to talk when she was in arms reach would be worse, you move further into the room and glance around.
A large shallow tub, almost like a kiddie wading pool, has been installed in one corner of the room. The lengthy curtains that grace the other rooms are absent, replaced by sterile-looking venetian blinds. The wooden furniture had been replaced by metal equivalents, leaving the room looking stark and empty. It takes you a moment to realize that the emptiness isn't just an illusion: there is nothing in the room besides you, Honey, and the furniture.
"Have you already put everything away?" you ask, confused. "I don't see a suitcase or anything."
"No," answers the slime simply. "I have nothing."
"...you don't have any possessions at all?" you repeat, making sure you heard right.
"Nothing," she confirms. "Not need, in meadow."
"Didn't the people at the Exchange Program at least offer to give you something?" If they had just picked her up and shipped her to you with nothing but the goo on her back, Agent Jones was about to get a very angry call.
"Offered. Did not need," states Honey simply.
"They offered to give you things, but you said no because you didn't need them?"
"Yes. Many things. Light boxes. Coverings could not move through. Shiny things to float inside me." She shrugs. "Not need."
"Honey, most possessions aren't things people need, they're things they want because the objects make them feel better."
She merely looks at you in confusion again, and you hurriedly think of an example you can give her.
"Like this," you say, fishing out your thin wallet and showing her the fading picture of you, your parents, and your brother from when you finally got your doctorate. "I don't need this picture, but looking at it reminds me of a happy memory so I carry it with me anyway."
"Things...are to remember?"
"Some of them. Other things are to help you," you explain. "For example, if it was raining, the coverings they offered you would have helped keep you from getting so wet."
"Clothes?" Honey asks, apparently remembering the correct name, and you nod. "Your...clothes. Protection?"
"Yes. They keep me from getting too cold, or from getting burned if I'm out in the sun. They can also be for decoration."
"De-cor-at-ion?"
"You said last night that you could change your shape to...make different people like you?" you venture hesitantly, realizing that the conversation has begun going in a dangerous direction.
"Yes," she purrs, increasing her bust size until her breasts are almost comically huge before shifting them to a set of rippling muscles and a bulge that was decidedly male.
"Clothes can be like that. Certain kinds of clothing can make people like you more. That's probably why they offered you the shiny things to float inside you, so you could have something decorative if you wanted."
"People...always say 'wear clothes,'" Honey mimics, her voice changing to imitate someone else's even as her body slides back to normal. "They...not like me...because no clothes?"
You pause, unsure where to go from here. Honey's lack of clothes certainly would cause people to dislike her, but probably not for the reasons she was thinking. The lack of clothing would likely make her extremely popular with some...though you didn't think you wanted her getting that sort of attention. She probably wouldn't mind though.
Fortunately, you are spared from having to come up with an answer when Zophar's upside-down head appears over the top of the door frame.
"Hey, someone just pulled into the driveway in what looks like the freaking General Lee. Are we expecting guests of the redneck variety?"
"Jim-Bob," you hiss in irritation, both at the prospect of dealing with the man, and at yourself for having forgotten he was coming.
"Jim-who?" asks Zophar incredulously, a gleeful smile on his face.
"He's here to pick up all the scraps from this afternoon," you answer with a frown. Alright, how to handle this...
Select as many as you want:
[ ] Bring Clyde. You'll need some muscle, and you don't actually know where they put all the sticks they collected.
[ ] Bring Zophar. He's the fastest worker here, and the last thing you want is to spend a long period of time around 'Jim-Bob'.
[ ] Bring Honey. You saw her picking up the sticks: her body can hold a surprising amount while remaining mobile, and she's usually behaved if she has something to do.
Or...
[ ] Go alone. It'll probably take a while to load the truck by yourself, but the last thing you want is a hick like him hanging around your guests.
