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"That sounds like exactly the sentence I was looking for," he says. "I rescind all your orders."

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She relaxes. Considerably. "Thanks," she manages again, and then she starts crying into the not broken one of her hands.

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"Um," he says. "Can I - get you anything else, help you in some other way...?"

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"I," sniff, "if you happen to know of any gates back to Fairyland that's probably," sniff, "more long-term tenable than me staying here. The tear I came through won't have lasted."

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"I have never heard of Fairyland before this moment. —And before anything else I would very much like to know how careful I need to be about what I say to you, since you seemed unsure whether I'd accidentally added to your pile of orders earlier."

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"If it's an imperative or a permission and you mean it it sticks. I didn't know if you meant it or not and wouldn't have until I had something to warn you about that I didn't for whatever reason want to warn you about."

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"Thank you. I will do my best to avoid meaning any imperatives in your direction."

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"Also if I learn your name the orders thing goes the other way too. Food would have done it too but you fed me first, name works anyway."
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"Well, that's an information security problem of staggering proportion. Thank you for letting me know. I mean, I was already not keen on introducing you to all of my friends because people on this planet are likely to react badly to the wings for cultural reasons, but good grief."
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"And I'm incapable of harming you, that comes with the names-or-food thing. Which is called vassalization."

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"I hope you don't mind me saying that I am offended on a very fundamental level by the existence of this phenomenon," he says.

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"I wasn't planning to defend it."

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"Well. I have no idea where to start looking for a gate to Fairyland," he says. "What can I do in the genre of seeing to your immediate comfort? I can go get you those painkillers but I confess I don't have anything that's been tested on fairies. There are plenty of spare bedrooms in this house and you are welcome to occupy one for the forseeable future."

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"I don't know if the painkillers will work either. I... don't know very much about healing injuries the long way around. I can't do sorcery here but I usually heal myself that way whenever I'm allowed. I could... I could use some rest."

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"There's non-magical medical attention available here, potentially, but it comes with complications and I have no idea how fairy biology works so even if I procured a doctor I don't know how much good he could do for you. I can show you to the guest rooms if you'd like...?"

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Nod. She wipes tears off her face with her not-broken hand.

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"I'm - sorry about whatever happened that got you into this state," he says, a bit helplessly. His gaze keeps flinching away from those broken bones. "The guest rooms are this way. I have no idea how to judge the risks of giving a fairy painkillers but if you want to try it I will get you some."

Off to the guest rooms.
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"I'll try it. It's not like it's going to kill me." She follows him.

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"...yes, that is pretty unlikely..." he says, slowly, in the tone of one who perceives a deeper meaning and isn't sure how to ask after it.

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"...I'm a fairy. We're immortal."

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"Lucky you," is the first thing that comes to mind, and he reflects on this for a moment and then adds, "probably."

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"Usually. Lucky, not immortal. We're always immortal."

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"Yeah..."

Contemplative silence. Stairs.
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She flies rather than try to walk up the stairs.

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The helpful mortal is at first startled by the flying, then slightly envious.

And when they reach the next floor: "Here are the guest rooms, and here," he retrieves a bottle of pills from a cabinet in the first room on the left, "are the painkillers. My wild unsubstantiated guess at what will be least dangerous and most effective."
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