"...Science fiction, mainly," he says.

"How did that help?"

"Well... what science fiction is is more or less stories about other worlds. Just ones the writer happens to have made up. Things like 'what would it be like if people lived on the moon', or 'what would it be like if people lived on flying trees in a huge cloud of air with no gravity', or even 'what would it be like if there were a whole bunch of different universes where things turned out differently than they have in this one'. The science part means mainly trying to answer those questions using things we actually know about how the world works instead of things we make up about how it might."

"Those sound really interesting, actually. Without being as intimidating as the actual flying tree."

"Yes! I really like them," says Ike. "And having read plenty of that stuff made me a lot more prepared for the, um, actual flying tree." He gestures vaguely at the actual flying tree in which they find themselves. "So to speak."

"So you didn't feel all dizzy when you got dropped into it, huh."

"I did not."

"My grandmother had to catch me, it was embarrassing. I don't get vertigo when I'm just flying."

"Awwww," says Ike.

Lucas blushes and looks away.

"Aww, no, it's okay, I have had embarrassing vertigo too!" says Ike. "When I was a small child I could not ride any kind of moving vehicle without it!"

"...Did you often have cause to - are those things common in other worlds? I hate them, they're not as bad as a skittish horse but they're miserable to travel in."

"Various kinds of moving vehicle are extremely common in my world, and they are mostly not miserable as long as you're not a small child with spatial orientation issues," he says.

"Well, they're probably designed to fit you. There's fewer than two hundred angels and we can fly, so no one bothers making sure the vehicles have room for a big set of wings." He checks his surroundings, then unfurls one wing to its full six-feet-and-change span. "What kind of spatial orientation issues?"

"What's a train?" Lucas asks. He looks at his wing, like he expects to find a bit of spinach between a pair of feathers, then looks at Ike looking at the wing, then holds it in place for a long moment before letting it re-fold.

"A train is a kind of vehicle that runs on rails and usually goes much faster than the kinds that use roads."

"Huh, I don't think we have those at all."

"Then if I had grown up in Samaria I would probably have had a much less nauseous childhood!"

"Probably! Vehicles are mostly for cargo, anyway. People get around on horses for everyday still. Unless they can fly, or know people who will pick them up and can fly."

"I know very few people who can pick me up," says Ike. "Well, more now that I know a bunch of people who are magic. But I mean, unassisted humans generally can't."

"I could pick you up," says Lucas, almost casually.

"I am heavier than I look," says Ike. "My bones are mostly iron."

Lucas looks him over. Almost casually. "I could pick you up," he repeats.

"I am not sure I believe you!" says Ike. "I demand empirical testing."