And not poofing the little figurines which would take her like half a second. He rolls his eyes and pulls out a computer of his own. "Anyone got recs on alien music -"

"Yeah, I signed on for that - before the nuclear war they had a weekly top ten list called Lexisstarble, you can pull them from that and the date - war was f162-185, last publication c162-185 -"

Now everyone is looking at little lights.

She can cope with this guy not being her best friend; she isn't sure how much it'd take to disappear the figurines.

He thinks she's pretty self-absorbed but, then, angel. Definitely no point in asking if she'll change the coloring on his wings.

(The ship is teleported back over to Space).

It turns out to be very convenient for her that the demons think nothing of offering an angel lunch, over the next five days.

And then they land! Four people have long-term residency here - "though next long summons I think I will just suggest they dismiss me and resummon me there, save the travel time -"

"Hey, it's billable -"

"I did that once and it took them a week to get their act together and grab me back, I'd rather kill time on a project than in Hell -"

"I don't know that I would, I haven't been there in a while -"

- and a few more people are being paid in events here - "I wanted to meet Macalaurë -"

"Said they'd summon a friend who's a fairy -"

"There's a show I want to see live -"

"I just like going to elementary schools and making them toys and shit -"

And they all scatter.

She scatters too.

Lurks. Listens. Writes.

Information is very easily acquired here! Food, less so, at least not as easily as it was acquired on the spaceship. The wings don't raise eyebrows. Chewing the claws down was a good idea.

There are more people on the street at any time than the population of her whole world. Elves, tall and always with hair braided and ears pointy and usually singing; humans, shorter and occasionally winged (and, when winged, called demons or angels or fairies), orcs, with sort of squashed faces and bizarre skin pigmentation and no hair, Dwarves, child-sized and very very hairy indeed (they, too, are occasionally winged and when winged identified as demons or angels or fairies). 

Eventually she finds a library. A sign in the window advertises free classes in summoning, electrical engineering, and functional programming. 

She has a very good 'why are you talking to me' face, but when she doesn't see somebody approaching she says the claws are for feather-grooming.

Gosh golly, free classes in things. She copies some library contents onto her sheaf and that's enough to get her through a class on summoning if it doesn't take too terribly long.

The teacher of the class on summoning seems confused that she is taking it. 

"I'm just weird. Is it okay?"

"I mean, you know you can't do it, right? You're welcome to learn anything you'd like."

"I understand."

Summoning! Here's how it works, here's how to do it safely -

- a student interrupts to ask about the demon that destroyed Valinor, were they bound -

"No, that was an unbound demon - most unbound demons won't destroy an entire world, though, I think it's unhealthy to focus too much on extreme circumstances -"

She avoids completing any worked examples and listens more than she talks and writes and writes and never seems to run out of paper.

On one occasion it looks like she changes a sheet blank! That's one way to not run out of paper. The class concludes and the teacher distributes links to further information.

Yay, further information.

She has to fly a ways away to get out of everyone's sight to summon a neatly bound demon.

And then she has a demon. ...who is confused to have been summoned by someone who looks like an angel! "...summoner?" he says suspiciously.

"Hi. I have some information I am pretty sure no daeva know about, and I've never written it, either, but I need a pretty open-ended deal."

...the language is unfamiliar, too. "Go on."

She's been living sort of rough and needs stuff to address that - mercifully people assume that if an angel looks disheveled and like they haven't eaten much in a few days this is because the angel is going for some kind of homeless-chic look - and a detailed forensic conjuration that might take a while to complete - and she will pay up when she knows what she needs to know. She has a list.

"Food I'll do, clothes I'll do, spying on people - eh, maybe? Can I see the list?"

"I didn't write it down, it involves the secret I want to pay with."

Raised eyebrow. 

"Where're you from?"

"Do we have a deal or not?"

"The way you phrased your secret it could be 'the name of my cat as a kid'. The language is new. We might have a deal. But I want more up front."