"Okay, one moment." He awkwardly shuffles over to get the aforementioned items inside the barrier. Meanwhile, he also babbles. "Uh, I can probably get you food and water and, like, a pallet to sleep on too? I don't know if you need to do any of those things, but you might turn out to need to or might not be able to tell that you do. Like, uh, do you feel dizzy or lightheaded or anything?"

"I don't. I have not felt hungry or thirsty yet..." He frowns. "Huh. But I just realised I am somewhat tired. Not in a physical way. It's not something I remember from before."

"Hm. Tired in a magical sort of way? Like doing more magic sounds exhausting, but jogging for a bit sounds totally doable?"

"...yeah. It doesn't sound exhausting. Just sounds a little bit..." He shrugs helplessly. "This is fair, though, I have been doing magic for the past several hours."

"Yep! And that is also a good thing! If you didn't start to feel tired then that would mean that the fire magic wouldn't be, um, attached to you? You'd still be tiring it out, you just wouldn't know, and then it'd cut out randomly and maybe just disappear entirely, for, uh, ever. Which would be bad. It being tired through you implies that it can be recovered through you, too."

He nods along the explanation while he goes for the clothes and starts putting them on. He puts his shirt on first, for some reason, then the trousers, then he realises the underwear goes under so off come the trousers and then underwear and then trousers.

Quael does not comment on this because he is very carefully not looking at him! Because aaaa, pretty person.

"It's actually bad for sorcerers to keep pushing themselves past their limits. It sounds like you're not there yet if you're not at the exhausted level, but if your, er, aura is going, 'No, I want to rest and do nothing else,' you should probably listen to it? There are cautionary stories about sorcerers doing magic they can't handle and breaking their own ability to use magic. Sometimes it can heal, but, um, it's like breaking a bone, it depends on how broken it is and how it's set after..." He pauses. "Well. How a broken bone works for other people, I think your thing would just heal that without much problem? But for ordinary humans, it can heal wrong and leave them with a limp for the rest of their lives, or something."

He nods and then reaches for the essay on sexual ethics. There better be a good reason he can't proposition the cute nerd.

Sexual ethics! The essay is a bit rambly and has trouble getting to the point, but it's clearly sincerely written.

The general idea is that people in positions of power can take advantage of their charges, even without meaning to. Sex is a complicated and messy subject and involves a lot of mutual responsibility and trust and self-understanding. While he might feel like he has enough of all three, Quael himself is not so self assured in this somewhat tenuous and debatable position, and this is really the sort of thing that he'd not get wrong. He would much rather it just be unambiguously not immoral or incorrect in any way, thank you.

Huh. Weird. But okay.

"So uh," asks Quael, when it looks like he's finished reading his essay, "do you remember your name yet?"

He opens his mouth to say something, then closes it. "I remember two of them," he says slowly.

Slooooow blink from Quael.

"Uh. Oookay. That. Sounds confusing? And concerning? I am concerned."

He nods, slowly again. "One of them is Zheras," he says. "The other is..." He tilts his head and extends his palm then furrows his eyebrows. Making fire isn't completely trivial and instinctual to him, but this flame is: a light blue with flecks of violet appearing in it every now and then. The flame flutters as if blown by a soft breeze, despite the absence of one, and its light intensifies and softens like it's breathing.

"... Pretty. Uh, both of them. Um. I feel like I now desperately need to go look up the specifics of your ritual, because um. I dooooon't think this is in my manual?"

He nods again, his eyebrows furrowed.

"Especially because um. Fire sprites don't. Have names? That they themselves know, I mean, I guess someone could name one but I don't think they're smart enough to recognize their own names. Or much else besides 'cold bad' and 'warm good' and 'I desperately want to burn everything down.'" He frowns. "Thiiiiiis also explains why you are, um, way better at fire than you should be?"

He tilts his head once more and says, "Djinn, not sprite."

"oh."

"So I am—was—two people."

"Yeah! Yeah you were! I am alarmed! I am very alarmed! Um! Um! Are you, both, okay in there?? Is it just you? Are you like a fusion combo here? Did, did the djinn consent, I did not have a consent form for the djinn, um, um. I have no idea what is going on this was not part of my job briefing. I'm just supposed to, like, try to talk people that shoved magic sprites into themselves into not exploding themselves and trying to keep them comfortable and cleaning up the messes if it doesn't work out and! I was not prepared! For the needs! Of two people!"

"I think this makes some sense of what I am experiencing. I do not... expect... I am currently two people. A fusion, then, probably. I cannot tell whether my djinn self consented. Not yet, anyway."

"Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!" wails Quael, before he abruptly clamps his hand over his mouth to shut himself up. Then, for good measure, he bites his index finger and whines.

"Ohhhhh boy someone was trying to be sneaky and thought that because I was getting paid like, barely enough to scrape by with if I budget carefully and don't eat sometimes, for a real shitty and emotionally draining job that I would, not, pay, attention! Because usually! People are not at all coherent at this point because they're dealing with a fusion between a person and a wanton pyromaniac impulse and, and, obviously the person usually wins but if both sides were people then they would meld a lot faster and! And! Oh that's why I was scheduled to check on you so soon because I wasn't supposed to see anything interesting and then find a smear on the ground in, like, a couple hours af...ter..." He blinks. "And then you'd just disappear and no one would know."

"What's the point of doing this experiment if the subject ends up dead anyway?" he asks, much more calmly than Quael is.

"No I mean. I'd find a smear, and you'd be, like, squirreled away elsewhere for nefarious purposes or something, so I'd think you were dead, and society would think you were dead, but actually you would be alive! I feel like I'm freaking out and coming up with crazy conspiracy theories but aaaaaaa you're part djinn that's not normal!!!"