"Well, there's no hurry about it." She pulls him into a quick hug. "Lennah, could you check on the quiche in the kitchen? There's a few things I think that he and I should talk about."

"I'll have you know he's been a perfect gentleman, and if you want to threaten him you can do it in front of me."

        "Spoil all my fun, why don't you." She turns back to him. "So, do you know what a condom is?"

"...I'll be in the kitchen."

"Uh. No? What's a condom?"

"You'd need to wear it if you were going to have sex with her," she says frankly, "which you're not. But that's beside the point. I can't sit here and tell you everything you need to know. The point is this: there's a lot you don't know, and that you need to know, and you don't know what questions you need to be asking. You're not ready to be dating my daughter, and if you try it anyway, someone is going to end up getting hurt."

"If you want to be her friend, you have my blessing. But if you're thinking of being her boyfriend, you'd better think again."

"Are we clear?"

That is a very bright red sword-person!

"Ah! I don't - even really know - why's a boyfriend different from a friend who's a boy - "

(Is he even a boy? That feels like a weird question, sure he's - a boy - but he's not really sure that's any more permanent than being human shaped or sword shaped, and it's kind of a silly thing to divvy up - )

"A boyfriend would be someone who was dating her. You are not allowed to date my daughter. Is that clear enough for you?"

"I'm really not clear on what dating is!"

Sigh. "If you need to be given The Talk, you'll have to wait for Jack to get home. In the meantime: no kissing, no getting undressed, and nothing that's even a little like sex." Pause. "On second thought, you probably shouldn't be alone with her at all."

She stands up and walks to the kitchen.

"Lennah. Your new friend claims he doesn't know what dating is. I hope you understand why I'd be concerned?"

"I'll be careful."

        "You'd better."

"Yes ma'am."

"Why is this something to be careful about?!?!"

"You wanna let me take this one, Mom?"

        Sigh. "All right."

She turns to him. "Dating is – a type of relationship, that – tends to involve very strong emotions. Even when the people in the relationship don't intend for that to happen. And that means that, if something goes wrong, people can end up getting hurt. Emotionally, and otherwise."

"There are other risks, relating to – certain activities commonly associated with dating, in addition to that. Physical risks, of various kinds. I'd rather not go into detail in front of my mother. But the feelings are the one that's about dating itself, regardless of – specific activities."

"Between the two of us, I'm the one with a lot more information than you about the risks. Not all of them are easy to explain. So – it has to be my job, to make sure that nothing goes wrong."

And I have to think about whether you're just playing dumb to try to get away with something, she doesn't say.

"Why are the emotions stronger than friendship?" He's very clearly really confused by this! "...Uh, I think I know how to read, maybe, if you don't want to explain it?"

"It's not a thing that can be explained in words. One day you'll have a feeling toward someone that is stronger than friendship, and then you'll understand."

"Might help if I hear it from another weapon? Since, uh, 'stronger than friendship' doesn't seem like - a... Concept? To me? Friendship's not a thing at a strength."

"I don't know where to find another weapon in this town. But... maybe I can show you." She holds out her hand.

        "Lennah."

"Not a demonstration, Mom. We can sort of – talk to each other, and not just in words. Weapon/wielder thing."

        "...fine. But you're doing it in front of me."

"Fine."

He'll take her hand.

"Feels like it'll work even when not touching, eventually."

And she closes her eyes, and – sends –

—her first crush, bright and desperate, on a boy she hardly knew, and the struggle of not understanding her feelings or what they meant or what to do about them—trying to work up the courage to talk to him, and when she finally managed to approach him she bungled it, pressing shame heart racing feeling blind and dizzy, hardly able to think—months later, the realization that he had never been who she had imagined him to be, the directionless teetering uncertainty—

—her first kiss, with a different boy, furtive and clumsy and eager and scared—a later kiss, warm and intense, and embracing—finally daring to ask if he would be her boyfriend, and the mixture of relief and vertiginous terror when he said yes and she realized she had no idea how to be girlfriend and boyfriend—the dark hot passion in her chest as she pinned his wrists to the wall to kiss him—the unexpected nameless elation when he returned the favor—

—discovering him kissing another girl, older and prettier, the screaming sense of betrayal like her heart being ripped out of her chest, leaving her empty and cold inside—

—she startles, opens her eyes – her mother has just put her hand on her shoulder – she takes a sharp gulp of air, lets go of his hand –

– takes his hand again, and sends again, the long slow recovery, regrowing the hurt place, scarred but not broken, hugging her parents, her grandparents, learning to be warm and soft inside again. (It's not the same kind of love. It doesn't have the same intensity. But it's there, and it lets her know that she's healing, that she's healed.)

— Her second boyfriend, and their amicable parting when his family moved to Wichita Falls, bittersweet, a meaningless sadness that she couldn't even feel angry about.

— and her feelings, now, for him, warm and solid-stable-safe and laughter-joy-exaltation, the joy of friendship, not the fierce need of desire but wanting to be with him, to have him in her life, to share life with him — and the familiar uncertainty-confusion about her own feelings, about this strange new thing not quite like friendship and not quite like her love for her parents or even her grandparents and not like romantic love at all —

"– that's why I said you can't explain it in words."

"..."

He bounces back - what he feels. For the people he half-knew as an unawake weapon. For her. For her mom, and the glimpses of people reflected in her memories. For the concept-of-humanity.

It's all the same emotion. He likes them. Sees little bits of himself reflected, wants to know them better and share their pain and their joy and every moment in between. Wants them to be happy and secure and the best themselves.

His brain does not, in fact, seem to distinguish between types of love. It's all a big jumbled mess, and he likes everyone with the same intensity, it's just - like sometimes there's specific people he's looking at, and some people he gets frustrated or angry at even as he likes them. He's frustrated with her mom. He's mad at that first boyfriend. He wishes neither of them poorly.

His feelings to her are more trust and admiration than a more intense like. She's nice, and he's getting to know her. She's reliable and heroic and smart and does the right thing even when it's hard. She makes him happy, too, just to be around.

(It's still not really clear to him why kissing's a restricted thing, but he recognizes it's important to her, and that since it's important to her if someone's in a restricted-kissing relationship with her they shouldn't break that promise. His brain's nebulous on whether he wants to be in a restricted-kissing relationship with anyone.)

"I think we're good."

"Good!" He laughs kind of awkwardly.

There's the sound of a car pulling up in the driveway. Lennah goes to get the door.

He'll... Wait. Kind of awkwardly. But -

To Lennah's mom: "Is there anything I can - help with?"

        "Well, aren't you sweet. You don't have to do anything, you're our guest." Pause. "I suppose if you really want, you could help me set the table; Jack'll be in in just a minute."

And indeed a man comes in, wearing shirtsleeves and loosening his tie; he puts down his briefcase, hugs Lennah – "I'm glad to see you're all right. You know your mother and I worried—" and then he spots the newcomer.

    "Have we met before? I'm Jack." He holds out his hand to shake.

"This is Grandma's sword, Dad. He woke up when we were at the dunj."

    "Well. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

"Hi! I'm a sword! Nice you meet you!"

        He smiles indulgently. "And I'm a human. You don't have a name yet?"

Lennah rolls her eyes, but she's smiling too.

"Nope! I don't think 'sword's a name."