ORIGIN

He walked alongside, quiet, attentive. Massive hammerhead tilted down to listen. Eyes remained trained on the Zoisite as she spoke, and Vargas answered only when she had finished.

"The use of such magics to create a food storage is ingenious," he offered--praise, encouragement, and it was genuine. He'd only ever seen such things used to create mementos--never something practical. So Zoisite's was a practical act--and more importantly, a resourceful one.

And so it would go: Vargas watching, and listening, paying full attention. Offering praise where it was do. Questions to provoke more words.

Threads of conversation, to form that tenuous bond--a delicate balance to tip a creature away from madness, without cracking his skin open and leaving flawed weak points for others to exploit.

He would allow himself to draw closer, to Zoisite: his grandchild, his family; just not too close. But what there was, he would hold in his mind, to remember.