May 28, 2020 8:33 PM
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"Oh. Any particular reason for that? I feel like I have a very masculine soul, personally."

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"Nobody knows the reason per se. Same-sex daemons are correlated with minority sexualities."

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"Female it is, then. Not that there's anything wrong with that."

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"...Do they even have Seinfeld in your universe? That was a Seinfeld joke."

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"I don't know, maybe, I'm not really in touch with mortal culture. I have heard the phrase?"

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"Ah. Alright, then."

He shifts awkwardly. "The easiest thing to test would be just, uh, poking my head through the door into your universe. Theory number one is that there's just something about your world that makes daemons show up. So all we'd really need for that would be for you to open the door and me to pop out for a second."
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"If you're sure you want one. I'd be really nervous about having one in a world where nobody knew not to touch them."

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"I... am not totally sure on that front but if worse comes to worst I have options for mitigating the badness of that. All else fails, she can just hide out in the wilderness and we can meet up every day. But I think it's more important that she be everything she can be than that I have her with me."

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"And you really might get a sardine or something, which is hard even in a society designed to expect that occasionally... But yeah, if you want one given all that I'll let you stick your head in."

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"If I get a sardine, I will buy a very nice fishtank for her and she will live in the lap of luxury in my apartment. I can take her swimming out on Lake Michigan, or something. And yeah, I want this."

He stands up. (He is pretty fidgety.)
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"Okay then."

Isabella goes to the door and holds it open. It leads to the interior of a house.
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Harry, who would deny to God Himself that he is shaking, steps through the door. There's a flash of golden light, and by his side appears a vast black wolf.

"...Good to meet you," Harry attempts, stepping back through the door.

"Doctor Livingstone, I presume?" the wolf drawls, following.
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"Daemons aren't usually that big," remarks Isabella, letting the door close. "Big animals are usually somewhat pygmy."

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"Humans aren't generally that big either," says the wolf reasonably. "Excuse me a moment."

With that he gallops towards the exit door, bursting through it to the bar's exterior. Harry lets out a strangled grunt. "We did not- discuss this-"
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"Okay, that's irregular."
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After a few seconds, Harry relaxes infinitesimally. His daemon re-enters a moment later, shivering, and curls around his legs.

"Warnings," Harry grits out. "Warning people when you're about to rip out their souls. Often considered polite."

The wolf huffs dismissively. "Don't be a baby. I've named myself Livingstone, by the way. No need to thank me for clearing out your itinerary, I'm fine, I'm fine."
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Path swoops off Isabella's shoulder and hops up to Livingstone. "Hello," he says.

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"Charmed," Livingstone says. "Path, right? You have an excellent human. My compliments."

Harry side-eyes the daemon corner at his feet. "Is that... standard?"
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"Daemons do parallel socialization," says Isabella. "I'm not at all sure what you do without them, honestly, but then again Livingstone isn't going to have anybody to parallel-socialize with."

"Thank you very much," says Path, preening. "We are curious about the extent to which you existed before you existed."
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"...Huh. I don't know if he'd even want to, really. I... get the feeling he's kind of reserved? I don't know why I get that feeling. Maybe just because he was in my soul."

"I existed, I suspect, more than most," Livingstone muses. "We'd met in dreams. I told him how he really felt about things. He summarily ignored me. It was all great fun."
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"Many daemons won't talk to humans besides their own and a handful won't talk to other daemons either," shrugs Isabella. "But yeah, you will generally be able to know how he's feeling and vice-versa."

"Well, you're harder to ignore now," Path says.
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"I don't know if he won't talk to other humans," Harry clarifies. "But I definitely don't think he'd mind missing out on the cultural expectation to chat with everyone else's daemons."

"Dear Pathalan, if I have learned one thing stuck inside Harry Dresden's skull for three decades, it is never to underestimate his ability to ignore good advice."

"I can still hear you, you know," Harry points out.

Livingstone gives him an unimpressed look. "Do you mind?"
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Path laughs a little. "My Isabella and I don't have this problem, but we're unusual."

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"...wait," Harry realizes. "Weren't you supposed to be a girl?"

Livingstone sighs. "Speaking of wise counsel. You're bisexual."

Harry flinches. "What?!"

"Bisexual. Or pansexual, they're very similar. You are attracted to men. And women. And, hypothetically, various intermediate stages on that spectrum."

"I am not-"

Livingstone's voice grows acidic. "Harry Blackstone Copperfield Dresden, youngest and heir of Margaret LeFay, you dense motherfucker. If you contradict the physical embodiment of your own soul on this I swear to every god living or dead I will pick you up with my teeth and throw you into the lake outside."

Harry does not appear to have anything to say to this.
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