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Yes, he bloody well recognizes her.

Mark approaches warily, sipping from his cup of cow blood. Maybe this won't be completely terrible. (Who is he kidding. It will be completely terrible.)
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She sticks out a hand. "Hey! I'm Ariel, codename Stormhammer. Peter tells me you're a vampire from space. A spacepire, one might say. This intrigues me."

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"Mark," says Mark. "No codename. Not from space, either. I grew up on Earth, just not this Earth." He eyes her hand nervously and doesn't touch it.

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Peter mutters under his breath.

"Hang on," says Ariel. "Fubar's pinging- uh- holy shit, what?" She turns away from Mark to focus on the mental conversation.
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Here we go then. Mark waits, drinking his cup of blood and otherwise not moving at all.

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"Soooo, first of all, sorry about- basically everything about this. Second, holy shit. Third, d'you want an alternate-universe-girlfriend hug?"
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"...sure," says Mark.

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Hug. Ariel is slightly cooler to the touch than the average human, but she is practiced at hugs.

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Mark is hardly in a position to complain about body temperature.

By some miracle, he does not break down crying. He just hugs her. Non-crushingly, even, since he doesn't have clear information about her fragility relative to vampire hugs.
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She rubs his back comfortingly, in a gesture Mark may recognize.

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Oh, fuck it, there he goes with the silent tears. He puts down his empty blood cup so as to cling to her more effectively.

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This is not an entirely unexpected outcome! Ariel continues hugging and makes kind sounds.

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Mark is such a fucking mess. He does not understand why these people like him so much. Now there's two of them, even. And they live in different universes. Which means he is always going to be missing a minimum of one person he is atrociously in love with. No wonder he's crying all over her in the middle of the cafeteria.

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Well, nobody who knows what's good for them is going to judge; Ariel is known for uncompromising destruction in defense of small emotional men. And various other persons.

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Okay then. Weepy clinging will continue.

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As will kind sounds and the rubbing of Mark's back.

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After a few minutes he lets go.

"Ugh. Sorry. I told myself I wouldn't do that."
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"Man, don't apologize for feeling things. You have had the shittiest day of all shitty days. 'Sides, crying on me isn't even a problem, I don't get mucky or anything. Benefits of a TK shell and superhydrophobic clothes."

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"I have had shittier days in my life. But yeah. Thank you."

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"Any time."

Ariel looks like she's trying very hard not to ask roughly one million questions about her male self, because it appears to be a sensitive subject. (Peter, nearby, looks like he has just eaten several pounds of not-quite-raw meat while the emotions were happening, which in fact he has.)
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Mark looks... well, nearly expressionless and like he has just been crying.

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After an awkward pause of astonishing length, Ariel returns to her drumstick.

Peter clears his throat with a vaguely blenderlike sound. "So. After lunch, would you like to have a detailed tour or watch some good clean blood sport? Because there's a Capture the Flag match going at Arena 99 in half an hour or so, if you enjoy superteens beating the hell out of each other. Which, I mean, who doesn't, right?"
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"As tempting as that sounds, I think I prefer the tour."

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"Aw. I probably won't be joining you then, it's Alphas on Monster Squad and I cannot miss that shit. It'd ruin my Alpha-heckling streak."

"You don't technically need to attend every match Vera's involved in," Peter notes.

"But then who would yell that her mother is an incontinent ferret?"

"That element would be missing, yes."

Ariel shakes her head piously. "I couldn't do that to her. She'd be crushed."
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"Is this a friendly or a genuine feud?"

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