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"...Beg pardon?"

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"I make jokes, occasionally. It's a hobby. There's no soul harvesting clause."

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"What an interesting choice of joke. Anyway. Skull?"

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He lifts an enormous cat out from under the desk, its eyes glowing orange. "Not currently skull, but skull. He wanted to meet you, and the cat wanted some exercise. The problems offered a joint solution."

"Hi!" says a voice from the vicinity of the cat. (The cat himself does not open his mouth.) It sounds enthusiastic, and not very much like an ancient artefact of dark wisdom.
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"Hello, not-currently-skull. Am I going to overtax your interest in arcana if I hang out asking you questions and taking notes all day long most days for a very long time?"

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David snorts.

"...Have you met a spirit before?" the being asks incredulously. "Interest in arcana is literally the purpose of my existence. Everything else is background noise."
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"It seems polite to ask first. Hi, I'm Bella and I will be your nerd for the foreseeable future."

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"Hell yes! What's the project, I'm all curious! It has been a while since I got to work on a genuinely challenging project that wasn't horrifically evil!"

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"Hey, I've been cagey about the end result this long, I'm not gonna blow it right now, maybe once we know each other a little better. But I have foundational research to do."

She has a notebook - she has several, actually, but the questions and what she has so far are in one and the others are for storing Bob's answers.

Seems like she's really curious about changelings.
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Bob is as knowledgable about changelings as he is about anything else, which is to say very.

They are eventually shooed into a different bit of the room due to the existence of another client, who needs her pearls found. David charms her outrageously, receives an advance, and puts on his coat. Before leaving, he turns to them.

"Should be done shortly. Don't go anywhere, the omniscient magical database is all well and good but I like that cat."
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"I won't let your cat escape, Mr. Dresden."

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Exit Dresden, smirking.

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"So, this changeling stuff is fun but I'm not really seeing how it could fit into, uh, anything? You're sure this is what you're looking for? I can talk all day, but creature features aren't the most riveting thing to a research wizard most of the time."

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"...If I tell you what I'm driving at are you gonna tell anybody else?"

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One orange glow winks for a second. "Lips are sealed. Hey, and I even have lips this time! Usually the joke's obvious there. On account of I'm a skull."

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"Okay. I really don't think the Misters Dresden would like it very much, so if you're having fun you won't blab. So, I'm not a changeling. And that's my problem."

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"Eh?"
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"I would like," says Bella, "to be a changeling. Technically. Without interfering with my parents in any way that might inconvenience them."

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"You want to... retroactively have been half faerie until you were twelve? A valuable learning experience by many accounts, but I'm still not sure I catch your drift."

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"No, not a faerie. And not until I was twelve."

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"Ahhh!" The lights flare slightly. "If you don't want to be part faerie, the word you're looking for is scion. Difference is, changelings are the ones who get... the Choice... ah."

Bob hums. "I really, really want to make some kind of tasteless joke about joining the winning team, but it sounds very evil, so I'll refrain. But. I begin to see why you wanted my help."
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"Yeah, I might have tried the Archive but she's likely to be busy on other matters, likely to disapprove, and also I wrote her a stern letter when I was eight."

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"I wouldn't say she'd disapprove, but she's historically made a policy of near-absolute neutrality. Also, I believe she's currently still at Disneyland celebrating her eleventh birthday."

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"Busy on other matters, like I said. Anyway. I want to be rid of my baggage, and I want to hack the process for valuable prizes on top of that, and I want to turn out with exactly the right specs in the brain after the fact - I can specify that better than the average bear, but zero tolerance on turning up with a thirst for blood or an obsession with shoes, I don't have time for that crap. Can you help me?"

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"Are you willing to spend a decade or so meticulously constructing a metaphysical artifact half a dozen orders of magnitude more complex than those bangles you're wearing, while suffering through both my dubious company and that of Heckle and Jeckle Dresden, in exchange for giving up the barbell that keeps you at the bottom of the supernatural totem pole?"

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