Pyay is left quite nonplussed by all this English.
"What do you have against scientists, huh? Who else is gonna help her? She- she got teleported here by a demon snake, it's not like social services is gonna have any idea how to deal with that!"
"What," says Pyay loudly, annoyed, not so much like she's reacting to the sentence, just like she's trying to announce her confusion regarding all the English.
Max'd likely have gone on ignoring Pyay in favor of continuing the argument, but he has to ask her a question.
"How much... does she know 'how much'? Um... time, time, days, you had some days?"
He shakes his head. "You know what she knows, you ask how old she is."
"How much what?" asks Pyay.
"How much does she know numbers? I taught her up through three... but if she knows more, we could mention that your kids have some number of years, and that we have a larger number of years, and see if she picks up on the pattern."
Pyay looks at the clock. Then looks back at Max.
Max sighs.
"Look, whatever we do with her... it's no use trying to keep the secret, especially if she's ever going to get home. Whoever we stick her with is going to need to keep her safe from the media circus, when it gets out."
"What," says Pyay again.
"They'll be... possessive, if nothing else. They'll want to reap notoriety from the research, and wouldn't want anything bad to happen to their test subject, and they'll want her happy enough to cooperate. There might be better options, if you have ideas, but it's certainly not the worst thing that could happen, and probably the fastest way to get her home."
"She needs some kind of advocate, in addition to if not instead of impersonal scientists swarming all over her because she's magic," insists Gloria.
He notices Pyay growing impatient, but he hardly knows how he can stop and explain the ongoing discussion to her.
"You know what I mean! Or you ought to, anyway!" snaps Gloria. "Being good at science doesn't make them good with children."
"Good with- this isn't about- she has bigger problems than, what, not being in an emotionally supportive environment? Who else do you have in mind that has a snowball's chance in- in June, of getting her back home?"
"Well that's not the sort of thing you instantly assume, is it? If we find her someone capable, willing to help figure it out to the best of their ability, and they can't do it... then we can give up on that, and... worry about whatever what-if you're implying."
"And of course the scientists will let us take away the only magic teenager in the world out of concern for her welfare!"
"So... well, there are systems for that kind of thing, she could leave, she wouldn't be property... but what you said, with the advocate, a legal guardian... could use someone like that to handle her concerns... but who would we... where...?"
Max sighs, and tries to think.
"You... need... mom? Dad? Ugh, no, not the right concept... legal guardianship is... how do we... words, words, words, English words, Nloggy words, guardian means..."
He looks at them both helplessly.
"Mouse?" says Pyay.
"Look," says Gloria, "why don't you take her to a pet store with feeder mice and I'll call social services and see if there's anything they can do?"
"Sure. I'll... yeah. My number's in the staff directory, if you need to call me, I'll... drive her down to Petco, see if they have... I mean, she doesn't need mice, no clowns to keep her from sleeping, but... it'll keep her happy, I guess."
"If you're certain she doesn't need the mice for anything then you understand her a lot better than I can claim to," says Gloria tartly, heading for her phone.
He goes to the door and motions for Pyay (...or Song?) to follow.