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"What? You want to turn over the magical child to some kind of - team of scientists? What makes you think they'll be able to help her get home, or even want to?" asks Gloria.

Pyay is left quite nonplussed by all this English.
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"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!"

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"Will scientists?" exclaims Gloria. "At least social services know how to deal with lost children in general."

"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.
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"You know, I kind of doubt their usual methods are gonna be all that useful in this situation! And she's not a- I don't know how old..."

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."
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"I couldn't get 'days' across for some reason," says Gloria. "There are conceptual gaps that don't make much sense. She looks high school age to me."

"How much what?" asks Pyay.
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Is she asking... what 'how much' means, or how much of... probably the latter. He points at a clock- but it lacks a second hand, it's probably not immediately obvious that it's a timekeeping device. And... in a world without sleep, would they even have a concept of time measured in intervals longer than, say, a minutes-equivalent? Vexing.

"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."
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"I got as far as ten. And zero," says Gloria.

Pyay looks at the clock. Then looks back at Max.
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"We could... make up a measure of time, map it to... gah, no. Imprecise, on top of her guessing already. Never mind. High-schooler. Whatever."

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."
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"And you think scientists will do that?" asks Gloria skeptically.

"What," says Pyay again.
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"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."

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"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.

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"Oh, yes, the impersonal scientists, I bet they've all got pointy ears and go around repeating the word 'logic' every five seconds for no reason. I forgot that we replaced all our researchers with robots, my mistake."

He notices Pyay growing impatient, but he hardly knows how he can stop and explain the ongoing discussion to her.
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"You know what I mean! Or you ought to, anyway!" snaps Gloria. "Being good at science doesn't make them good with children."

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"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?"

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"What if she can't go home at all? What if it's one-way?"

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"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."

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"And of course the scientists will let us take away the only magic teenager in the world out of concern for her welfare!"

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He stops and thinks, with that one.

"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...?"
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"I don't know!"

"WHAT," says Pyay loudly.
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"Gah! You- listen, it's complicated, we can't just..."

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.
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"We didn't get to any family words - I have other students, I couldn't just focus on her," sighs Gloria.

"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?"
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He sighs.

"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."
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"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.

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"Mm. Yeah, they could... need them for something else, I guess. Whatever."

He goes to the door and motions for Pyay (...or Song?) to follow.
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Pyay or Sohng follows him. "Mouse?" she asks.

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