"Mm. Let me think." He considers this for perhaps ten seconds. "I swear by the bright moon and the gentle breeze that if I steal Xue Yang I intend to promote his overall happiness and well-being to the best of my ability, which will probably involve treating him differently than one would treat an ordinary fifteen-year-old, given his unusual abilities and psychology. And I grew up in a monastery completely isolated from the outside world and I have no idea how Americans expect fifteen-year-olds to be treated. I understand you have lower expectations for their abilities in hand-to-hand combat. But at the least I swear that my intent is good."

Well, she supposes, anyone who spent enough time around Xue Yang would probably pick up both of those phrases. "Thank you."

Maybe physical pentester with a weird aesthetic is just the only job that worked for a Tibetan immigrant raised in a monastery and forced to fend for himself in Los Angeles, or perhaps San Francisco. She starts spinning out a tale of his life and the woman who took him in, then files it away. That's for when she's at home. Or particularly bored on a call.

She chuckles, to stave off feelings. "I've seen what Xue Yang does to Meng Yao, who nominally has him under control. I'm not...I don't want him to turn that on me?" It shouldn't be a question, and yet, in front of this font of peace and goodness, she feels ashamed. Lifted up, and looking down at who she was this morning.

"Xue Yang is not going to be allowed to interfere with US government assets other than those specifically designated for his interference. It's one of the things they look for in... consultants of this sort."

"If what he has done to Meng Yao isn't harm...and if Meng Yao doesn't like my efforts, and you think he wants Xue Yang to stay dependent on him, and I couldn't want that for him." She stops, and notices. She's grasping for straws here, making up reasons to avoid the real one. "But I suppose Meng Yao can't exactly do much to me, he's just a low-level manager. It's not like he's going to kidnap me and take me hostage to Japan or something."

"I'm mostly worried I'll screw it up."

"Meng Yao is the asset specifically designated for Xue Yang's interference, that's what a handler is." Xiao Xingchen smiles crookedly. "It seems hard to make the situation much worse."

She contemplates the abused teenager. "I suppose it is."

Xiao Xingchen was quiet for a minute, as if he was thinking.

She suddenly smiles, and claps her hands. "Well, if that's everything Mr. Xiao, I want to thank you very much for your time. I suppose I am going to be awfully busy in the near future."

Xiao Xingchen smiles and reaches out to touch her cheek with one of his fingers. He's surprisingly good at finding it, for someone wearing a blindfold.

"I think you should remember who you are, Miss Donahue," he says.  

(And she remembers a castle shrouded by mist, its stones pinkish in the sunset; and a sailing-ship that takes off straight up towards the stars; and studying the language of cats, the better to make diplomatic overtures; and a war against the moon-beasts who have enslaved too many children, where she ran intelligence, learned the secrets that weren't in books bound in human skin and that wouldn't drive men mad but still might win them a battle--) 

She loved that castle, a product of tears and work and skill. Not to build it, that was easy, but to defend it, to make it a home for all they people they gathered under their banner. To make it stand for something, out in that place where that meant everything and nothing. She remembered how the stone cried, sometimes, after a battle, and she loved it for that, that stone that old could still weep.

How had she ever forgotten?

"What do you mean?" How had she looked up at the moon, and seen only lifeless rock? She'd thought it peaceful, the last time a (prospective) boyfriend had taken her camping.

"Give King Kuranes my best wishes and tell him I'm still not coming home."

Xiao Xingchen doesn't precisely disappear, per se. It's just that one moment he's there and the next moment he's not. 

This is too many emotions. She would really like to return some of them to the store. She's pretty sure she's got a receipt somewhere.

She's a bureaucrat who helps make sure nobody gets blackmailed or bribed by the Israelis or the Chinese or the Russians. She's a good spy, not a legendary one but she does good and important work for her king. Who apparently...knows Mr. Xiao personally. Presumably by that name. She's proud of her ability to help even the most difficult clients. She remembers a glorious battle fought on the underside of a sea, her own starblade flashing brightly. Alright. That's fine. This is fine. She doesn't like having raspberry sorbet two days in a row, that's a bad sign, but this really feels like a pair of days that deserves it.

She'll say she's sick, she's got the leave saved up, and there's nothing critical today. James can handle the call.

She's going to go to sleep tonight. And then she's going to wake up the next day. She can't be Jane Donahue by day. Not like this.