"I mean, you won't be competing with a lot of other members of your species for access to people who'd be interested, you just may have an initial marketing problem and I'm not sure the government will be able to be responsible for it from the get-go," says Leekath. "That's the only serious wrinkle I see. You still would prefer to immigrate rather than go home, given it?"

"Huh. I guess it's a marketable skill, in a way. Yes, I'd like to get out of my horrible permanent war zone of a world."

"Okay. We'll see if the door will cooperate with the plan. I can sign these, I've got the licence for it, but obviously you can't immigrate if you can't physically enter Esmaar, so they won't take de facto effect right away." Leekath signs the papers in a few places. "You'll still probably have to do this all over again but this will get you as far as the office that's supposed to handle the thing."

"I don't mind doing it over. Thank you, so much. Do you want to, um, stay in contact, when I get to Esmaar? I mean, we don't know each other very well, but- I'm not really going to know anyone."

"I don't mind. I'll probably also put you in touch with one of my old teachers, she's from offworld too and likes helping people to an almost pathological degree."

"Pathological help sounds- nice. I'd love to meet her."

Sky quietly orders a fruit salad from the bar.

▫1.04.

She pays after examining her coins in some confusion.

And she receives a fruit salad! It is a nice fruit salad, slightly lemony.

Mm, lemons.