"Fantasy - in small doses - and literary fiction. Useful nonfiction, like histories that bother to be interesting and thaumatology and stuff about subtle arts - but those aren't things I should probably be wasting my interplanar bar visit on."

"I like science fiction and social speculation the most."

"Science fiction's okay. In small doses, again, I shouldn't get a great big stack of it from here, it just makes me sad if I read too much because I don't have a spaceship or anything."

"Huh. I don't have that problem, but to each their own."

"Oh? You have a spaceship?"

snort. "No, but I don't want one badly enough that it dings my enjoyment of books that have them."

"Fair enough. My problem is not normal."

"Sure. Anyway, I don't think I'd actually like being in space. Not enough air."

"Most of the science fiction I've read suggests that spaceships bring their own."

"Yes, but my powers have to do with the wind. There's a difference between enough air to live on and enough air to satisfy someone who gets sensory feedback from it."

"Oh, I see. Makes perfect sense."

"Uh huh. Reading about it doesn't bother me though, it's not like you get characters commenting on how the wind feels even just in regular books set on Earth."

"You named your planet 'earth'?"

"Don't blame me, I was just born here. There. Wherever."

Giggle.

"I think it's also called Telluria, but I have no idea what that one means."

"I mean, I guess 'Earth' is descriptive... is your sun named 'Fire'?"

"It's named the Sun. Or Sol."

"Well, I hope you have other feats of creativity as a plane."

"...I mean, we've got art and literature and stuff."

"Exactly. And hopefully your music has lyrics other than 'song song song song'..."

She bursts out laughing.

"And your art consists of something other than exquisitely calligraphed: paint paint paint..."

Giggle

Slurp. Delicious milkshake.