He frowns again and takes a deep breath and approaches closer in a few big strides, still leaving some space.

Friendly non-teeth-showing smile! Not that there's anything odd about her teeth apart from being perfectly white, but who knows what this guy's run into.

It's getting kind of hard not to stare at Daz's nakedness, in a "don't think of an elephant" kind of way. She tries to come up with ideas for clothes she can make out of organic material and gets several, all deeply mediocre and all requiring that she be able to do mods without freaking Daz out.

Eventually they are a reasonable conversational distance from each other, which would help more if Daz could speak English.

Time to play the No Common Language game! Point: "Margaret."  Point: "Daz." "I am Margaret, you are Daz."

He says what might be an equivalent in his own language.

Awesome. She does her level best to memorize it, takes another tiny step toward him (her arm is getting slightly tired from holding out this peanut) and tries to solicit more vocabulary. Hmmm, what's sufficiently unambiguous . . . how about "one", "two", "three", counting on her fingers?

He follows her gestures with his eyes but doesn't reciprocate.

Maybe he'd rather learn hers than teach his? Maybe he wants the food first? She keeps moving forward, no faster than he's moving toward her, hoping to get close enough that he can take the peanut out of her hand. 

Eventually she successfully transfers the peanut.

He looks at it, and at her.

She reaches into her pocket, slowly and calmly and not at all in a pulling-a-gun way, and takes out another peanut. She shells it, shows him the pieces to make it super clear that they are more of the same thing, and eats one.

He shells his peanut and sniffs it.

If he got grabbed from a random spot on Earth then he might not have seen peanuts before, she supposes. Is he any recognizable ethnicity? Not that she knows which ethnicities live in places that don't have peanuts.

He's pale enough to sunburn, but might be Asian or something mixy under that.

She's pretty sure most if not literally all Asians know what a peanut is. Maybe this guy has heat stroke or landed on his head. Or he's just doubting everything because getting flung into space by a cryptid is the sort of thing that makes you doubt things; that would also be pretty reasonable. Still, is he going to eat the peanut or just stare at it forever?

Eventually he puts it in his mouth and chews. He doesn't seem to be sure if he likes it.

Raw peanuts aren't really gourmet restaurant food, are they. But they're protein and she's pretty sure if she grows a different plant Daz will run away in terror again. Come to think of it, is it rude to feed someone food that they don't know grew out of your arm? Probably not, at least under Marooned In Space rules of etiquette. She pulls out two more, offers Daz one and eats the other.

He takes and eats this one too, thoughtful.

She does this a few more times, then tries doing the language thing again. "One peanut", "two peanuts", "my peanut", "your peanut".

He shakes his head and gestures at her in annoyance, though he keeps taking peanuts.

Okay fine, food now languages later. Maybe they can get by with mime until somebody rescues them, not that she's got all that much hope of rescue. She'll just keep going until she's out of peanuts or Daz evinces interest in doing something else.

After his twentieth peanut, Daz pauses, closes his eyes, furrows his brow -

- and a person coalesces out of thin fucking air. They're a naked girl, maybe eighteen or nineteen, perfectly healthy, dark-skinned and solemn.

"What was it you were hoping to say?" she asks Margaret.

"How did you do that without being a magical girl??" she asks. It's sort of addressed to both of them.

"I'm afraid I don't know what that is," says the girl. Daz doesn't seem to be paying close attention. He's busy eating peanuts.

"How did you . . . Where did you . . . Ugh, too many questions at once. Can you just explain from your own perspective who you are and where you were a minute ago and how you came to be standing here now?" Margaret asks the woman Daz seems to have teleported in.

"...I wasn't anywhere a minute ago, I'm new," she says. "I'm Sovi."