"We could... put on small theater productions for Bar?"

They nod.

Cam busies himself looking for three-person plays.

Ancora gets in position to waltz again, following this time.

". . . I'm a girl," states Judy, and puts a hand on their shoulder.

'I see.'  Handhold, waisthold.

She isn't sure she entirely believes that but starts humming anyway.  And keeps humming other songs, once it becomes clear that Ancora wants to keep going.  At first she tries to keep it within her impression of their aesthetics, but thinking of a bunch of qualifying songs in a row is kind of hard (especially given that most of her attention is devoted to staying upright) and she branches out after a while.

. . . It turns out 'The Cookie Chase' has something complicated going on with the time signature and isn't strictly in three-four.  She trips, and falls towards Ancora.

- towards, and into, and through - and onto the ground.

"Aaaaaa what the heck," she intones, clearly more alarmed than harmed.

"- surprise insubstantiality, gosh."

'I suppose it is pleasing that this comes as a surprise instead of having been obvious from the very beginning.'  They watch Judy carefully as she stands but seem satisfied she's uninjured once she's up.

"You put a wing on me! It felt like something!"

"And - you have hands - I was holding one when I fell, even . . ."

'I have very good hands.'  They instantiate wings for a preenful rustle.  'I worked on them for - perhaps a decade.  Maybe a bit less.'

"Do you just - attach physical extremities to an illusion torso, or -"

'Artists, by nature, have only visual forms.  These behave consistently with themselves without particular effort, but ignore physical matter.  It is possible to emulate physical matter, separately, for use as tools with which to shape the physical world.'  Wingrustle.  'I discovered I could, with enough concentration, take specially-formed tools and move them identically to my visual form.'

"That's pretty cool. Yeah, I didn't notice."

Glitter rai - no, no glitter rain, no weather at all it's scary.  'Hands contain many different moving parts and complicated layered textures, but seemed worthwhile to do correctly.  They are very versatile.'

"Normally fingers are moved with muscles in the arm, did you do that or take a shortcut?"

They offer Cam their hand.

"I'm not sure how I'm supposed to tell by looking since you can clearly look material without being so."

'I had thought a tactile explanation would be more demonstrative than a verbal one.  Only the hand itself can interact with physical matter, by default.  I sometimes emulate matter in the volume of my forearm but have not put as much effort into verisimilitude there.'

Cam will take the hand and bend the fingers and attempt to grip the forearm to see if it does the marionette thing.

The hand feels and acts pretty much just like a hand, though an unusually slender one with filigree for fingerprints instead of anything so traditional as ridges or whorls.  The forearm . . . doesn't exist.  Cam's fingers just pass through it as if it isn't there at all.  No tingling or temperature difference or any other stereotypical indication of occupying the same space as something insubstantial.

"I like the fingerprints," he says, releasing the hand.