"That's very kind of you."

"One possibility, if it strikes you as appropriate, might be to present the situation to Mr. Potts in less transactional terms: rather than straightforwardly purchasing your services, he would be taking an opportunity to help a powerful, generous, and charitably-minded healer to establish herself. It would not be inappropriate to offer as a token of your gratitude that he could be one of your first beneficiaries."

"That... would be a terrible idea, back home. The kind of thing that results in me being harassed by increasing amounts of lawyer until I'm forced to murder someone. But I suppose I'm, in theory, willing to trust your local expertise, if you can assure me that kind of thing is safe, here."

"I can hardly imagine how a society could function that punishes generosity and rewards ingratitude. I can think of no reason it should be unsafe in such a way here, and for Simon Potts in particular to do such a thing would not only contradict everything I know of his character but also destroy the good name he has built over seventy years."

"That said, if you prefer to take another approach, then I am certain that one could be formulated."

"I think," says Tegan, "that I don't understand the danger well enough to know how to be sure that it doesn't exist here. I don't think I've heard of anything like that happening, but – who would try to bring suit against you, and on what grounds, and for what end?"

"Well," says Cameron, trying to think of a simplified example, "the way I'd expect this to go at home is: they see the value in what I can do, and agree to sponsor me. We sign a contract that gives me a working budget, and gives them partial ownership of whatever I do with the money and the right to, like, put their name on whatever service I offer. Then, the first time we disagree on something, it turns out they have the legal right to throw me out of my house and the legal right to demand that if I'm not healing in their name I may not heal anyone ever again."

Cameron shrugs.

"I imagine that, if we knew how to teach the Path to outsiders, there would be some interest in traveling to your home country for the purpose."

"As it is, I can only reassure you that no such contract would be necessary. If there is a difficulty of trust, the one-time exchange for healing should suffice; whatever your intentions, he will have either purchased a rare service or funded a worthy venture."

Now that's an entertaining mental image. Excuse me mister billionaire, have you tried not being business-savvy? Join our cult and you too can be eaten alive by the rest of the economy!

Cameron manages not to laugh aloud, schooling her features.

"Indeed." Nod. "Shall we?"

He smiles, faintly. "Certainly. If we are fortunate, we may even be in time to speak with him over lunch." He redoes his bowtie.

"If I am to introduce you, perhaps I should know your name."

"Of course," she says with a deliberate hint of sheepishness. "My name is Cameron, and my title is the Rousing Salve. Pleased to meet you."

"Likewise," he says sincerely.

Simon Potts's house is one of the largest in town, though still small by Cameron's standards; from the outside, it might fit twenty medium-sized rooms across two stories. The doctor knocks, and a minute later an elderly man in a short-sleeved tunic, sash belt, and slacks answers the door. He looks at them, then double-takes at Alvin.

"Good morning, Mr. Potts. I hope we aren't interrupting?"

        "Not at all; please, come in." Simon leads them into a cozy drawing room with sunlight filtering in through plain white curtains. The house is furnished unostentatiously, but well; there is little outright decoration, but the chairs are comfortable, the space is uncramped, and nothing is shoddy or in less than perfect repair. Cameron's chair gets a seemingly-decorative cloth draped across the back and seat, though Simon manages to make it seem like a fluid and unremarkable part of the process of making the room ready to receive guests.

Once everyone is seated, Simon serves tea and small triangular sandwiches; the tableware is plain ceramic in clear glaze, with brass cutlery.

The doctor speaks first. "Simon, I'd like to introduce you to Cameron. She's an accomplished healer, as you can see," – he gestures subtly at himself – "and my understanding is that she intends to begin offering it philanthropically."

        "Well. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Cameron. If I might ask, what brings you to Costallow?"

"At least two highly improbable coincidences," Cameron says. "Possibly enemy action of some kind. It is a mystery."

It's kind of obvious why hers is the only clothed chair, but Cameron can hardly blame these poor mortals for the habits they must keep in these conditions. Nevermind that it is doubly redundant in her case.

"Since I am in Costallow, how would you like to be a young, healthy man again? Today."

        He glances at the doctor, then back to Cameron.

        "I believe I should like that very much."

Cameron nods.

"I thought about this on the way over here. And I think I've decided on a fair price for this very valuable service it seems I alone am capable of providing. It would not be at all fair to set a fixed price that some could pay and others could not, when the truth is that I can in fact do this without limit, at no cost to myself but time and attention."

Cameron leans forward.

"So, I will restore you to youth and vigor, and then I will ask you for exactly the same thing I will ask of anyone else who comes to me to be made young again, rich or poor: five percent of your liquid assets, as determined by you. Do you agree that's fair?"

Cameron expects to be rather thoroughly cheated, under this policy, but also expects any plausible amounts of money to be enough for her until after the initial rush has died down.

        He regards her assessingly. "You're a very interesting person, Cameron."

        "While I would gladly pay the price you name, my honest assessment is that that is not fair. Liquid assets are not at all the same as assets one can afford to part with, and in particular I would expect the wealthy to have both a higher proportion of illiquid wealth, and of course a higher proportion of inessential funds."

"That would be why I will deliberately avoid double-checking that I actually receive five percent, I think," Cameron says. "It is not the exact number that is important, but the impact on my clients of hearing the number. They will think, 'what pile of money could reasonably pass as a twentieth of my available wealth' and give me what they feel they can part with, is my thinking."

        "Perhaps. Though you may find that the less honest are also less likely to be poor, for a number of reasons. Still, it is a clear improvement over the common practice, and perhaps it will work as well as you expect. I can only hope."

        He sips his tea, thoughtfully.

        "While I would be perfectly happy to spend the afternoon enjoying your excellent company, I would understand if you preferred that I go to look over my books."

"There's no reason those should be mutually exclusive."

Cameron stands and moves around until she's close enough to touch him, and reaches towards him politely. "My spell requires touch."

        There is the subtlest ghost of an eyebrow at the implication.

        He reaches up and takes her hand.

        And lets out a soft "oh," as the years melt away.

        It is a young man that stands up, his hair mixed black and white, turning his hand over and back and flexing his fingers. "I am sure you will be hearing this often, but you are a truly extraordinary young woman. Thank you." Even his voice is somehow smoother, a rich baritone.

        "I hope you will excuse me," he says to Alvin and Tegan, who nod with murmurs of assent. Turning back to Cameron: "Shall we?"

        (She might catch Tegan's slight smile.)

The hormone transition always hits hard in the extremely rejuvenated. Usually she has to do some convincing before whoever she healed is willing to use her as an outlet, or else they simply lose control and pounce on her and she has to do the same convincing afterwards.

This matter-of-fact expectation is a nice change.

"Of course," Cameron says serenely, pressing herself against his side a little. "You've very suddenly regained the ardor of a teenager. Taking any other course right now would be quite hurtful."

As they leave the room together, Cameron reaches behind her with her free hand, out of Simon's field of view. And a second, exact duplicate of Cameron appears, facing the opposite direction. She comes back to the table and sits down with Tegan and the Doc.

        It's not the worst pickup line he's ever heard.

        She might find that his intentions are less direct than she imagined. He does put his arm around her, as they leave; but his hand goes on her shoulder rather than her waist, and he gives the impression of being perfectly happy to simply make conversation, though he can take enough of a hint not to actually start looking over his books. (The cut of his trousers somehow manages to make his erection visible but not quite overt, and somehow elegant rather than awkward.)

 
        (Alvin's eyebrows raise at the surreptitious duplication.)

Downstairs: "Is that why you work professionally in the nude?"

Earthly fashions could take notes. Ganymese bottoms actually do that better, but they kind of have to when opaque fabric is considered unfashionable there.

Cameron isn't being coy, she meant that literally, but as his healer she of course will go at his pace. In fact, if he does want to get his bookkeeping (and payment) out of the way first, she'll perch decoratively over here and wait.

"Probably not," duplicate Cameron says, "depending on what 'that' is?"

        If she's not making the next move, he can make small talk with her. "I admit it is not entirely clear to me how even a suddenly renewed ardor would be so urgent that a delay in addressing it might cause harm," he remarks. "Certainly I never experienced such a thing in my ...first youth. Does your experience suggest I ought to be in a hurry?"

"In case your patient suddenly finds themself in an urgent mood?"

        "Is this really what you want to be asking about?" Alvin asks Tegan.

"Ought to be? Not exactly. But it would only be natural if you were. And I'm such a convenient outlet. I am not the kind of disrespectful that expects you to pretend like that," she points at his bulge, "is of no consequence."

She lets out a giggle for the Doc, at that, but she addresses Tegan's question first.

"No," she says to Tegan, "although that's a good guess. Most places, mundane medicine can do this much for people." She gestures vaguely at the direction Simon and her real self went. "I make pornography. I also provide resurrection to fallen magical girls, but. Mostly I make porn. So obviously I'm naked for that, most of the time."

        ...he probably shouldn't be surprised that she's the sort of person who goes around naked.

        "I don't know that I would have called it disrespectful. But if you are interested, I certainly wouldn't refuse."

"Huh."

        This time it's Alvin's turn to be distracted. "Mundane medicine – is that teachable –"

"Didn't you want to –" never mind. It can wait.

"I'm always interested," she says with a wry smirk, because Simon seems like the kind of man who wants to feel generous, rather than merely permitted. "And I'd consider it a matter of pride, to not leave a job unfinished."

One hand drifts idly to her breast in a suggestive caress, a wordless reminder of things his hands might do.

"After all, I'd hardly send you elsewhere to get reacquainted with your renewed body, when I seem to be to your taste."

"...want to what?" Blink. "And, I could explain the principles? But I don't think I know enough to recreate any of it. And the real me has my tablet."