"Okay."

"Have fun!"

She nods and starts learning to type.

Her parents fret.

"That wasn't blood."

"I think something like half of blood by volume is clear stuff. It could be that clear stuff. Some people have blood disorders."

"I don't think you need practice acting dense about our alien daughter so you can cut it out around me."

"I think she is developmentally immature - not one, but not an adult of her species - either that or a really good actor -"

"She's so small."

"That's not why."

"I know, just, you got me thinking about it. So small and smart and blue."

"And writing secret things she told us outright were secret things."

"Yeah. You're not going to read them -"

"Not unless we get invaded by aliens or something and she flees to lead them, it's really important to let people have some privacy. Even if -"

Sigh. Hug.

Lintalai gets a typing game where you must type words to make plants grow. She merrily types away.

Eventually they come up to let her know it is bedtime.

Oh, okay.

And she should brush her teeth even though she might not actually need to, who knows.

Okay.

"Having fun with the typing program?"

"I can make vines go up a wall and flowers grow more petals."

"That sounds fun!"

"Yeah. It's better than the one where things are attacking you and you have to type them away."

"Too stressful?"

"I guess? I just like the plants one better."