Sky grits her teeth. "You're right. That's why I'm getting out while I can."
"Well enough. It's almost admirable, in a gutless sort of way."
I could provide you with a set for the cost of the paper, says Bar.
"I don't have any cash on me."
I can take your credit stamp.
"...Sure. Charge me a thousandth of an aaber for a set of current Esmaarlan immigration forms suitable for an offworlder her equivalency. I do have a pen."
And here is a stack of paperwork. Leekath hands Sky a pen. The forms want to know her name, sex, previous names and sexes if these are possibly relevant to confirming that she is attached to her past identity, age, what that translates to in human years, her country of origin, status therewith, native magical talents, acquired magical skills, whether she is going to be farming anything, whether she will wish to be going on government assistance within the forseeable future, etcetera, etcetera.
(Sky takes the papers in a trembling hand and goes to work on them at a nearby table. Her name is Skyler Raith- no, Skyler Reed. She puts down sex and age and country and tries not to curl up and cry with fear.)
"Oh, I won't start anything," Tessa soothes. "You can be sure of that."
Sky's forms are going well! She has listed a variety of natural powers appropriate to a somewhat anemic vampire of the White Court, she will probably not be farming, she will almost certainly be on government assistance. She's left "acquired magical skills" blank because she's fairly sure she doesn't have any. She continues apace. (She writes pretty quickly, especially when she's blocking out something like Tessa being terrifying.)
"Other side effects include disrupting the natural order and weakening the fabric of reality," mutters Sky.
"Don't tell me how to do my job, little pest. Do I nag you about your congenital lack of a spine?"
Tessa smirks. "Exactly."
Tessa grins to herself and begins to file her claws innocently.
"Sufficiently motivated humans can echolocate, sort of, so I guess I could learn, but normally no that's not a thing," says Maggie. "And yes, there is a distinct aura of, not sure what to call it, dramatic nihilism? Pretty unfriendly."
"I really have no idea what you're talking about," contributes Tessa. "If you feel cold, you might put on a sweater."
"Y-you could? Please, please, I'd- I'd really like that."
"Can you do that as many times as you like?" asks Maggie.
"No," says Leekath.
"Ah, never mind then." Maggie swigs; her glass is empty. "I'll just take as much of whichever of those lovelies was cheaper as the contents of my pockets will buy me, let's see, that's..." She counts her money very fast. "Three hundred thirty euro, and take it home with me."
She gets a large quantity of the gold stuff. She picks it up with one hand.
"And I shall be going."
Tessa rolls her eyes. "Well, if everyone's leaving or becoming immune to fear, I think I may go as well. Unless the bar has tomes of forgotten lore on demand."