Corona might disagree, but there's no point getting into that. Corona's just Corona, that's all. Anneia sighs and pats her bundle of Harley.

This is a fast elevator. Here they are. "I'll get Sandre to help you carry him," says Chelsa. And back she goes into her friends' quarters. "Sandre!"

Sandre peers out of his and Anneia's room. "Huh? What?"

"We need to transport someone to Aelise and he's very upset and needs to be carried; Anneia can manage him, but only just."

"Oh. Okay," he shrugs, and he gives Chelsa a hug and a kiss on the cheek and follows her to... wherever.

With some difficulty, Sandre transfers Harley from Anneia's arms to his.

Now where might Aelise be at this hour?

She is extremely likely to be in her office!

"Yes?"

"A few minutes ago a boy who looks and sounds and kindles very like Corona appeared in the hallway right in front of me, in his pajamas, and spoke to me briefly, and had none of the generally possessed warmth for me or you but wasn't cold like that one horrible girl and kindled just fine when I tried, and when I told him my name in trying to get him to come see you, he took off screaming and jumped the balcony. Anneia's fixed him, though."

"But he's younger," says Sandre. "And he doesn't have any scars. Inside or out."

"Yes, I'm frightfully confused," complains Chelsa.

"I can tell," says Aelise. "Who have you kindled him to so far?"

"You, me, Anneia - me and you because I was trying to convince him to come talk to you, her to calm him down when we fetched him from the bottom of the mountain."

"Leave him with me for now," she decides. "I'll see if I can't get some sense out of him."

"If he's not dangerous, you can keep him," Aelise promises.

"Sure thing!"

Harley seems quite content to do nothing but cry on Sandre.

Sandre avails himself of a comfy chair, since the office has an extra.