Prologue: Any Given Saturday

Prologue:  Any Given Saturday

Normally, when one wakes up, there is a period of confused twilight that precedes full consciousness.  The mind slowly activates itself piecemeal during this, and one only slowly becomes aware of their own wakefulness.

I didn't experience that this morning.

Today I experienced having three hundred pounds of claw and scale land hard on my chest while shouting, "Morning, Shiny!"  "Cu-howough," was my respone, and my only response until I could catch my breath.  My wurmouto was patient, howev- wait, why did I call her that?  The adorable weight upon my chest was my little sister, Tera, whom I have been receiving tackles from for the better part of seven years.  Ever since she figured out how to move around, really.

"It'scs almoscst time for breakfascst,"
I think to myself, "What is that whistling sound?"
What I manage to ask her is "What, ku-huh, is that," I take a moment for another breath, "whistling sound?"
"I loscst my firscst toothscs today," she shouts triumphantly.

And then she looks up at my face and beams a smile that stretches from earfin to earfin, with a singular missing front tooth.

There's an ominous silence which I soon realize is the stillness of my heart.  There is no pain, merely a feeling of weightlessness, as the periphery of my every sense is filled with darkness and cold.  A voice, as though from far away, tells me that I should stop playing around.  I would move my lips to respond, but I am so very tired.  I'm sorry for leaving you like this, Tera.  You were just... too adorable.

My brief excursion into the next life is ended by a rib-shattering blow from a tiny, scaled fist, accompanied by a shout of, "Scstop playing around!  We'll be late for breakfascst!"  Ah yes, breafscs- I mean breakfast.  I can't die now, I'd miss eggs 'n bacon.  "Right, right," brief coughing fit, "I'm up, I'm up."  I wasn't up, however, because there was still a wurm on top of me, and her being an eight-year-old only slightly lessened the impossibility of lifting her.

"Ki~ds, it's almost ready~!"  My mother's voice lilted its way up the stairs and immediately solved one of my problems by worsening another.  Which is to say, that my little sister gets off of my chest, but does so by lunging off of my ribcage.  "I'm sorry mom, but I might be a while," I completely fail to answer.

I have to pause and look over my door as I get up.  The three locks are all broken from Tera's entrance.  My other sisters, while not delighted by my security, at least respect doors enough not to break it.  But I don't mind that she rips the chain in two, or that she snaps the deadbolt off, or that she twists the handle so hard that the internal mechanism shreds to pieces.  I don't think she notices them to begin with.

I manage to put on something reasonably clean and make my way to the door, where I find Cara passing in the hallway.  There's barely a half of a sniff before her face scrunches inward and she says, almost reflexively, "Uff, dude."
"What?"  Sorry Cara, that's the least irritable thing I can get out right now.
"Go find another shirt."
"What's wrong with this one?"
"You used it to handle that nekomata last week."
"How can- fair enough."  Didn't really manage to stop myself before saying something dumb, but she can't blame me.  I only woke up a few minutes ago.

She waves her hand in front of her face as she passes, trying to clear the air from her overly sensitive nose.  There are times when I envy the stamina and perceptiveness that her half-wolf nature grants, but the rest of the time I feel only pity.  Stay strong, Cara.  I change, and resolve to wash my clothes more regularly.  She might only be a year my younger, but that still makes her my little sister.  A man has to have his pride.

I finally make my way down the particularly wide stairway, using up maybe a quarter of it at best.  It's funny the changes that need be made for a house with four serpent-tailed women.  As I round the stairs I come mere inches from a deep, purple face and a pair of golden, reptilian eyes.  Safiya immediately recoils and her hood reflexively snaps outward to scare off this new threat.  It fails to do so.
"Morning, Fee," I state with a stifled yawn.
"Hey, watch where you're going!"
"You're the one on the wrong side of the stairs," I helpfully point out.
"You- well, it's slow going up stairs without legs."  With this she finally retracts her hood behind her purple-black hair.
"You aren't too fast going anywhere, though."
Her expression had already soured before I pointed that out.  Now she had reached the point of pouting.  It's odd, since her lips are clearly wider than the average person's, so she still looks like she's smiling slightly even when she tightens her lips.  I'm left unsure of whether she's genuinely upset or if she's just trying to make me feel bad for saying that.  Either way, she succeeded at the latter.

"But hey, it's not like you should be in a rush.  Life's not a race, and all that."  Smooth, Val.  Smooth.
She doesn't answer, but just stares at me for a moment more before continuing up the stairs.  "Yeah," says one part of my mind, "you totally fixed that up."  The frustration has to pass before the other finally comes to the same conclusion, "Yep, we fucked up.  Does the Eight-Twelve on the corner still sell those marshmallow eggs she likes?"
"Yes."
"Make a note."
"Done."
Behold, the glorious efficiency of the human mind.

I spare a moment to consider how my morning is going.  So far, I have been up for around five minutes, and I have only three stresses:  1.  I am a source of physical discomfort for one little sister.  2.  I am an unintentional asshole to the other (being four days my younger means I still get to claim the title of elder brother (Hey, I didn't make the rules)).  3.  I still have to deal with all of my elder sisters.  So far, the day is turning out about average.

Lythalia stands at the entrance of the kitchen, taking up most of the doorway.  "Morning, Sister."  This isn't just an acknowledgement that we're siblings, it's the nickname that she picked up from the clothes she's always wearing.  She cocks her head over her shoulder and answers, "Good morning, Shiny."  She's smiling about something, which has the fortunate effect of chasing away the last bit of morning bleariness from my mind.  Unfortunately it does this by setting off a dozen internal alarms.

"Hmmm~, what's with that?  You look like you've gotten a~ll worried."  Ah, good.  She's bluffing.  A heavy sigh releases both my breath and my stress, and I brusquely shove my way through the doorway.  The flame in my lantern settles down, too.

It's a useful thing, but I could do better about keeping it from telling everyone if I'm stressed.

With my arrival the entirety of my family settles in around the long oak table.  Theresa, Carathis, Vinata, Evette, and dad are all seated already.  I, Lythalia, Safiya, and mom all make our way to our customary seats.  Silence, save for the clinking of dishware, fills the air as we settle into our food.

As I eat, I find myself distracted by my family.  The food is average - by which I mean that it's miles above anything else out there, but I've had it enough to not be distracted by that.  It's kind of relaxing to see them all just eating their food, and not seeking out exciting new ways to stress me out.

Mom and dad sit next to each other on the far end of the table, trying - and usually failing - to eat their food instead of getting distracted by each other.  Steve and Lysandra, if I were to call them by names I've never used in my life.  Mom stays at home and keeps everything in order, while dad deals with some sort of realty agency.  I don't really know why, since he could apparently retire off of what he made in his adventuring days.  He married an Echidna, though, and I hear that those who do tend to spend a fortune to raise their kids.  I've also read that the strength of the man determines how strong the children are, in which case he must've been some kind of monster before he settled down.

To my left is Vinata, or "Vee."  She's the oldest of the assorted "kids" at the table, though she's a year from adulthood so perhaps that term doesn't fit so well anymore.  Still, best not to remind her of that.  She's got it in her head that she's going to end up alone in a cave that no adventurer will plunder, or else will otherwise end up as some sort of "Kurisumas cake."  I can't really see it happening, considering how sweet she is, but I guess she just has different fears than the rest of us.  Childlessness must be kind of horrifying for her.

She, along with mom, Tera, and Safiya, are all tucking into plates filled with various egg dishes.  Apparently it's just the nature of the snake-tailed mamono that they have a fondness for eggs.  Or perhaps it was something nutritional?  Maybe both.  Probably both.

Left of her is Evette, wearing some sort of ridiculous formal evening gown.  Between that and her French classes she's getting makes her really frustrating.  Really, if she didn't need spirit energy to live- exist, rather, I'd probably never speak to her.  It's just frustrating when someone you know to be roughly your equal looks down on you for something stupid and meaningless.  Apparently it's all just based on some fad with Wights where they all learn French and act like 1800's noblewomen.  She brings each tiny spoonful of food to her mouth slowly, and with precision.  The effect might be dignified if she was eating something other than generic grocery sausage patties.

Between her and mom is Lythalia.  For a while, when I was younger, I really liked having her around.  She was constantly covered in these chains that rattled against each other.  When I was really young, that was more connection than I had with anyone else, and I clung to it.  I didn't know that she wore them for a completely different purpose.  But then, I didn't know why she dressed like a nun, either.  Nor did I know why her outfit had a clear view of her her cleavage, or slips leading up both legs.

I considered her a good friend until I was eight years old.  We were playing together on the N128, and she turned to look at me.  She tried to force me to kiss her using magic.  It took me a little while to figure out what she was trying to do, since the magic didn't really effect me.  Maybe because I didn't understand lust yet, or perhaps because she wasn't skilled with it.  Or maybe I was just a horrid, willful little monster at that age.  Whatever the cause, I ran her out of my room, and I've never really forgiven her.

She smiles as she turns to look at me, and my eyes turn to meet hers.  There's a pause as she notices my flat expression, before her own falls.  She turns back to her food with more focus than before, as though trying to actively ignore what just happened.  Is she troubled that I'm still upset?  Or is she troubled about what she did to upset me?  I've never been able to figure that out, and I'll probably continue to hold my grudge until I do.

And I'm sure as hell never joining her damn cult.

Trying to nip this bad mood in the bud, I manage to direct my attention from my older siblings.  Immediately to my right is Safiya, whose attention is entirely focused upon her eggs benedict.  It's odd, that out of all my sisters, the one closest to my age is the one I understand least.  She's monstrous, yet kind.  Weird, yet average.  Or perhaps I just can't empathize with having a foot-long tongue or instinctively wanting to envenom my food before I eat it.

After her is Tera.  She's sitting on her tail so that she can feel as tall as everyone else.  The effect is ruined by how she eats - curled over forward and scooping her waffles into her mouth with her hands.  Whole waffles, mind.  Sure, they're typically ripped to shreds by her claws before they get to her mouth, but the thought stands.  The whole affair is accompanied with the sound of her eating, which can best be approximated as "om, go-ohm, om, ah-ohm."  She pauses only briefly for breath, and to use her tongue to clean the syrup off of the lower half of her face.

If it were anyone else doing it, I'd be put off of my waffles.  As it is, it's the cutest thing ever witnessed by man.

Dad begins discussing some sort of dry, technical aspect of his work.  The attempts at comparing it to slightly less dry, less technical functions perhaps serves to explain things to mom, but I doubt anyone else is keeping up.  The discussion does manage to distract me from Tera's eating habits, however.

A rhythmic thumping coming from the back of her chair informs anyone paying attention that Cara's pleased with her breakfast, which is almost exclusively sausage and steak, with eggs on the side.  Then again, when isn't she smiling, or else excited about something?  I pity Cara for a number of reasons, but I never figured out if I didn't envy her slightly more. She has a boundless capacity to be happy for no reason whatsoever.  Also, she can jump ten feet into the air.

I finish the rest of my meal and take the plate to the sink.  It takes skill to duck out without being noticed, but I've had years of practice, and no serpentine tail to reveal my attempts at escape.  The door closes to my room with some complaint, and I find my tools.  Soldering iron for the chain, replacement screws and caulk for the deadbolt, and an assortment of thin pliers to try to fix the handle proper.  This isn't my first time at the rodeo, nor is it the worst I've seen.  That'd be the time I needed a new door.

It's almost ten before I manage to get all of the pieces straightened out and back into place.  That leaves less time for my games than I'd like, but at least-
Knock.  Knock knock.
Dammit.
"Yes?"
"Hey," Cara's voice calls out, before launching into a barely intelligible plea, "there's nothing to do come on let's play it's beautiful out there's nothing to do I'm bored let's go do something."
"Do what?"  I answer flatly.
Pause.  "Tug of war?"
Dammit.
"Not really my cup of tea."
"Oh, come on.  We could go running!"
"That's not a game," I say as I open the door, "nor do I really enjoy it.  Besides, the weekend's when I get to -not- run all damn day."
"Mmmm-mmmmmmm," is her clever comeback, while making a face that suggests I'm being completely unreasonable.  Her tail and ears lay flat, showing the complete loss of her good mood.
Dammit.
It takes the full breadth of my resolve to finally release a sigh and offer, "Soccer?"

---

It's a little after lunchtime, and I am alone.  This is good, because I can't guarantee the safety of innocent bystanders while performing this stunt.  I need to clean myself of a layer of sweat that could drown a man, and showering isn't easy in this house.  There's a system to this - an art form - and I have been practicing it for years.  The first part is to have a solid chair that I can lift easily.  The second is to leave my room and walk down the hallway as though I plan on continuing down the stairs at the end.  The third is to have good luck.

I manage all of these things, as I manage to snap the door shut, lock it, and wedge the chair against it right before I hear the scramble of feet, following by a whine of complaint.  "Oh~, Val, I need to shower, too~."  Ah.  Of course it's Lythalia.
"Sorry, Sister, I'll be done soon."
"But then who'll scrub my back?"  Her voice is dropping, reaching for that seductive tone you always hear from that one popular succubus in those three or four superhero movies.  You know, with the leotard.
"Invest in a brush."
"But Va-a~l, who'll wash my fro~nt?"
"Someone else."
There's a pause for a moment.
Finally, she whispers to the door, "If you let me in, I'll take your confession."
"No thanks," I answer while undressing.
"But you have so much to be absolved for.  Like... for instance...," she slows her speech to a crawl, "thinking lewd thoughts about your sisters."
"I haven't."
She pipes up, "exactly!  How can you sleep at night with that weight on your shoulders?"
The sound of the water being turned on washes out the rest of her pleas.  I can't say I blame her for this.  It's her nature, and it's her religion.  If one didn't force her to act this way, the other still would.  Getting angry wouldn't make sense.  I'm not about to act like the 90-year-old fatasses on TV who scream bloody murder because - gasp! - succubi attempt to have sex with people.

But I'm not going to forgive her for trying to make me kiss her when I was eight.  Is that hypocrisy?  And why the hell is this bugging me all of the sudden?

The warm water pouring down on me clears my mind and manages to soothe the muscles that Cara has so thoroughly worn out.  A constant patter comes from my left hip, where my lantern is hanging suspended from my shoulder by its pitted iron chains.  A column of steam begins to form as water droplets regularly make their way inside.

This thing has been endlessly useful to me, and I've grown rather fond of it.  It's like an arm to me, really.  It lights things up, and can be swung from the chain to put down random feral mamono.  I wonder why other people didn't use weapons like this more often during the Great Mamono Wars.  Maybe I'm just better with it since I was born holding the thing.

Literally.

It's also the reason my mother is dead.  Childbirth fairly regularly kills the mother without hospital care or healers.  Giving birth to a child and a reasonably sized, sharply edged lantern was just more than anyone could take.  The thing's flame dies down as I stare at it, and the steam lessens.  Mages examined it when I was born.  They only found that it's stuck to me, and that I can control it, but didn't find any reason or origin for it.  The closest I've got for an explanation was that I was born under an odd star, or else I've been cursed by some sorcerer who was a bit confused on how this whole "curse" thing works.

But without this I would never have found my family.  It was a stroke of good fortune that the doctor who delivered me had a brother who had married an Echidna.  It's not that they're simple beings, or that they're all alike, but almost all of them have an incredibly strong maternal instinct, and an intense desire for children to shower it on.  When she heard about this odd infant who didn't have any parents, she immediately set herself to adopting me.  The idea of a child without a mother was something innately offensive to her.  I think of it as good luck that has brought me here.

It's funny, it feels as though I'm dryer coming out of the shower than I was going in.  Werewolves are frightening as opponents, but that doesn't mean they're harmless as allies.  She hasn't even gotten into her proper 'teens, yet, and Cara is already running me ragged.  I'm in pretty excellent shape, too.  Of course, part of that is probably because of her.  Still, I'm forced to wonder if I'll be able to keep up as she grows.

Finally, I can sit myself down in front of Guild Conflicts, and grind away for a few hours.

It's thirty minutes before suppertime when I return from my grind-induced coma.  It takes a while for me to realize why I'm no longer immersed.  Knock knock.
"Hmm?"
"Hey, you awake?"  High pitched, breathy, soft: that's Safiya.
"Yeah, give me a sec."  There's a number of rattling sounds as I unlock the door.  An idea comes to me as I do so.  I'll have to implement it before supper.
"Hey."
"Hey."
"Mind if I come in?"
I rub the dust from my eyes and move out of the doorway.  "Sure."
She moves in and goes to sit on my bed.  When her head is turned I hear the slight flicking sound of her tasting the air.  She always does that when she comes in here, and I've never figured out why.  There's something odd about her expression as she turns and sits down on the edge of the bed.  "So we've got a birthday coming in a couple weeks."
"I know."  She blinks and tilts her head to the side.
"Do you know whose?"
"Nope."
"Do you know when?"
"Nope."
"Then how do you know?"
"There are nine of us.  There's always a birthday in a couple weeks."
She frowns at this.  "It's Lythalia.  Her birthday is coming up."
"Good for her."
"Geez, what has you in such a rotten mood?"
That's actually a very good question.  "Mid-terms."
"Those were three months ago!"
"Quarter-terms?"
"Val."  It's a quiet thing, but it's accompanied by a face that shows how much she's bothered by how I'm acting.  I can't say she's wrong, this isn't how I usually am.  I'm not really sure why I'm so damn grumpy today.  Maybe it's this birthday coming up.
"Fine, fine.  So, what do you want from me?"
"I can't come up with anything to get her, so I thought we could both grab something."

There's hopefulness in her voice as she floats the idea, but her expression betrays nervousness.  Oh Safiya, you're probably the best of us at picking up on the emotions of others.  You know I've never gotten Sister a present in my life.  You know I sure as hell don't want to, either.  You could always taste the grudge in the air, and you're trying to fix it.  I don't know if I like that, or if I resent you for it.

She seems to notice my hesitation.  She leans forward and widens her lips a bit, looking up at me with those big, golden eyes and quietly asks, "Please?"  Damn, she's serious about this.  I had to close my mouth shut before I reflexively agreed to help her.  Dammit.  She knows that being an awesome big brother is basically one of my two points of pride.  I try to come up with an answer in which I can help her out without doing anything for Sister.
"I -yegh."
Well done, brain.
"I totally have some money saved up for this, so I'd only need a little help getting her a present!"  Pressing the advantage, eh Safi?  Who taught you how to win people over like that?  You haven't mastered some invisible form of charm magic, have you?
But then I remember that day, and my mouth answers almost before I can think it.  "No."
There's a moment of quiet.  "Just... no?"
"Just no."

There's a lull in the conversation, both of us staring slightly off to the side of the other.  This breaks only when I see her head tilt forward, which she corrects with an upward jerk.  We both know what that means.  "You're still using that space heater, right?"
"Well, yeah, but it's not very good.  Part of me gets too hot, and the rest stays at room temperature.  I really wish we could just leave the heater at ninety."
"There aren't enough fans in the world.  Here."  With that I move around her and lay down on my bed.  It's only a few seconds before I'm surrounded on all sides by polished purple scales.  It's hard to see with most of the light blocked out, but I can tell from the eyes that she turned to face me.  "Val?"
"Yeah?"
"Thanks."
"It's nothing."

Another pause fills the air.  The briefest claustrophobic twinge crosses my mind as the "walls" pull inward, pressing at my sides.  This also cuts off the rest of the light from the room so that it's only by my sense of touch that I feel the head resting itself on the other side of my pillow.  The sensation would be worrying if I hadn't felt it a thousand times before.  Between the compression, quiet, darkness, and the scent of coconut shampoo completely saturating the tiny amount of air, it's almost like a form of sensory deprivation.  Brilliant purple scales fill my vision as my lantern brightens in response to this.

"Val?"  The word is almost painful for how loud it is in comparison to the silence, and for how closely it's spoken to my ear.
"Hmm?"
Her tail tightens again, almost to the point of discomfort.
"Are you angry at us?  Did we... do something to upse-"
"No."
Her breath catches.  For a few seconds there's just the sound of slightly troubled breathing.
"Just no?"
That gets the slightest snort of amusement from me.
"Just no," I say, trying to convey my smile through my words.
Her head presses against my shoulder.  She noticed.

It's twenty minutes later when mom's voice wakes us from our impromptu nap.  Before sitting down for supper I grab a crayon I found laying around outside Tera's room and grab a piece of paper from my desk.  "KNOCK GENTLY," the top half reads, "DON'T OPEN."  There, now I'll just need to put in a steel plate on the front and I won't have to worry about repairing it anymore.

---

Evette looked as drowsy as she always did coming to supper.  I sure as hells wasn't going to say anything, given what I'd dealt with today.  Her spectral arms flickered in and out of existence while her physical ones picked apart the lasagna and carved it into smaller pieces.  It wasn't until she was in my room that they appeared almost solid again.

Ah, yes, having Madamoiselle in my room.  This can only mean one thing, and my gut is already wrapping around itself in stress for the fact.  If it weren't necessary for her to survive (if that term is applicable), or if the Cult of the Fallen wasn't such a manipulative, disgusting organization, I'd be doing just about anything to avoid this.  She picks up on that.  She's always picked up on that.
"Are you ready, dear brother?"
"Sure."
And then the spectral arm reaches for me and I have to suppress the urge to move away from it.  She's going to try something new again, I can tell.  The clawed finger barely passes through the first layer of skin and I feel it.  There's the normal sensation as all of the pain receptors on my arm light up, sending a sensation of being simultaneously stabbed and burned everywhere between the shoulder and the elbow.  This time, however, the twisting sensation combines with that to make it also feel as though the tendons and muscles throughout the area are also being ripped apart.

I'd like to think of myself as a fairly manly individual, at least as it's possible to be before my facial hair really starts to grow in.  I'd also like to think of myself as tough.  I've survived living with a Wurm for eight years, after all.  And I'd like to think that if anyone else had been in my position, they would've made significantly more noise than the strained, muffled gurgle I just made.  In spite of that there's still a feeling of weakness, different from the tiredness that always comes after being drained of spirit energy.  Like maybe, if I were a bit more resilient-

She interrupts my thought, "That- that only made it worse, didn't it?"
It's rather nice to hear her talking when she isn't trying to sound like a bourgeois, stuck-up princess.
"Hey," I offer, "you tried."
She looks away again, in the same way that she always does when she feels hurt somehow.
"It's not you," I remind her for the hundredth time.

We both know that, whatever this is supposed to be like, it's not supposed to be anything uncomfortable.  The touch of a Wight is supposed to be amazingly pleasurable to the living, and yet here we are.  She has tried it on others before to the correct end result, but since I'm the only constant source of willing energy, I'm the one she's concerned about.  She regularly experiments with her control over spirit energy to try to find out why this happens, but so far those have only made the process that much more painful.  I don't begrudge her this.

Her expression grows steadily more complex as she states, "Well, It is just that," she trails off as she begins to fidget with her shoulder-length gloves.  It's odd of her.  It's only very rarely that I see her drop the "high society" persona she's so fond of.
"I just- I'd rather-"
"It's fine."
"It is not!"  And now she's looking at me.  Again I'm staring at inhuman eyes today.  Red iris, white pupil.  I see them, but they seem so inconsequential in comparison to the pained expression that frame them.

I'm hurting another sister now, aren't I?

I stare right back at her as I flatly answer, "It is."
And then there's silence, as she looks around my room, face scrunched up in thought.  It takes a minute before she draws herself back up to her full height, bids me a pleasant evening, and leaves.  And then there's the feeling again.  Maybe, if I were a bit more resilient, I wouldn't have to see that face again.

I manage to make it almost the rest of my day without getting dragged into anything else.  It's only when I start packing it in that I hear the last few knocks on my door.  "Hey Shiny," comes the mature voice on the other side.  I guess it really is getting colder out.
"Vee?"
"Mind if I join you tonight?"
I reach over for my phone.  Click, tap, swipe, click.  The lunar calendar pops open, revealing tonight to be Waxing Half.  The note beneath reads "Mostly Safe."  That's good enough with Vinata.
I slide open the locks to let the nearly adult Echidna into the room.  By the time I've reset the locks I've got a bed of green scales to return to.  "Is it really that chilly tonight?"
"Chilly?  What does the temperature have to do with anything?"
For the briefest moment she manages to keep her expression straight, before she breaks into a smile.  "Damn, almost had it."
"I'd say 'try again next time,' but that one's probably not gonna work for a while."

I think I sleep better when I'm wrapped up like this.  Perhaps it's that I've slept in coils more than I've slept on mattresses in my life.  Or maybe it's something horribly Freudian involving wombs.  Either way, I'm about to fully sink into sleep when she whispers, "Hey."
"Hey."
"This is pretty great."
I turn to see her smiling face, barely lit by what is now effectively candlelight.
"You don't say."
She immediately frowns and pokes my shoulder with the tip of her tail.
"It is," she insists.  "Admit it."
"I guess it's all right."
There's a silence as she pulls in tighter, wrapping her arms around one of mine and setting her head on my chest.
"I wish I could do this every night with someone."
I give a reassuring, "it'll happen."
A long sigh fills the cramped space.  "You don't know that."
"Sure I do," I state as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

There's a catch in her breath as she turns to look at me.  Her eyebrows are furrowed, and her reptilian eyes search over my expression.  After a minute of this she finally asks, "You do?"
"Of course I do.  You'll find a guy, no problem."
This answer seems to almost anger her for a moment.  "That's easy for you to say.  There are dozens of women who'd have your children.  You wouldn't even have to go looking."
My brain is too tired and too close to sleep to handle this in any but the most direct manner possible.
"It'll happen," I repeat.

Her stare lasts for a while longer before collapsing into a bored frown.  I ignore this as best I can.  I need my strength for tomorrow.

---

A violent crash wakes us both up with a start.  I turn to look at the door, where a clawed, green, reptilian fist is sticking into my room.  It pulls itself out before a tiny mouth moves up to the opening and shouts, "Shiny, big scsiscs! It'scs almoscst time for breakfascst!"

Ow, my heart.