"I'm ... not actually sure that you have standing to bring matters to the clearinghouse," Sargeþi mentions. "Bar, could we borrow a copy of ... let's see ... The Official Bylaws and Procedures of the Foreign Diplomatic Relations Clearinghouse, 41050 edition?"

"Oh, I'm going to need to refer to it later, I'm sure. We can purchase it — Bar, put it on my tab, please."

Sure thing. Do you want more apple cider?

"Yes, please."

She flips through the provided book in search of the index.

"So ... it looks like I could if there were not an existing recognized global structure that would be a more appropriate venue for my communication, and I'm a resident in good standing of a state that is a signatory to the Third Larger Continent Convention on Governmental Procedure. Or, I can file an appeal with the Global Court of Justice, if I meet the criteria in annex B," Amethyst announces after a moment.

Sargeþi taps their lip.

"I think technically you're allowed to sign onto conventions at any time, as long as you don't have any additional exceptions to negotiate," Sargeþi points out. "You could get recognized as an official City, for diplomacy purposes ..."

After a long slog through international relations, jurisprudence, demography, and contingency planning, Amethyst dramatically closes the cover of her latest reference text.

"I think we're done!" she declares.

"Are you sure? Let me go back over the action items ..."

"I never have to pee when I'm in the middle of something, and right now I have to pee like a small woman who drank twenty-three large glasses of various sugary drinks," she declares.

Sargeþi glances at her line of glasses.

"You are a small woman who drank twenty-three large glasses of sugary drinks," she points out.

"It's a close simile," Amethyst replies. "Anyway, be right back."

When she's vanished through one of the doors in the far wall — presumably to visit a bathroom — Sargeþi turns to Bar and asks a question that she really should have thought of earlier.

Er. The business cards you gave me earlier — do you actually vouch for those people, or ...? she signs.

I, Bar explains, am a bar. I sell drinks. I do not, as a matter of course, vet interdimensional aid organizations.

Right, okay. I mean — she seems pretty sincere, and you did confirm that she's a me. So ... it's probably fine, but I wanted to check, Sargeþi explains.

I can sell you some books that speak positively or negatively about Amethyst, Bar offers.

Yes, please. That would be a great help, Sargeþi agrees.

A stack of books materializes on the bar, with titles ranging from The Holy Book of Her Lady in Amethyst, She Who Steps Between the Stars all the way to A Critical Analysis of the Handling of the Urmbezi Affair.

Sargeþi settles in to read.

Amethyst returns just as Sargeþi has closed the last page, and is sitting with her eyes focused on the bottles behind the bar, considering what she has read.

"You took a suspiciously long time in the bathroom," Sargeþi observes.

Amethyst waves a hand.

"Time is an illusion, and so are pants," she observes. "So ... anything else you want to talk about?"

"No. I do think the plan is solid," Sargeþi replies. "Although, reading these ..."

Amethyst waves at Bar for another ginger beer, otherwise waiting patiently.

"... you may be a me. But you're still an alien. And I think that the plan would go better if I were part of you, so that you have a ... Þereminian perspective."

"And do you think that joining would also be what is right for you, not just your planet?" Amethyst gently asks.

Sargeþi looks across at the magical alien space princess that she could have been, if she had been born in another world.

She looks ... calm. She looks happy. Experienced, and confident, and ... better at adapting to the ridiculous circumstances that are, apparently, going to be her life now.

Sargeþi considers what it is like, to be alone. To have one frail human body, and one forgetful human mind. She considers what it would be like to be together instead.

"Yes," she declares. "Yes, I think it would be."