"Uh, sure. Sprechen Sie Deutsch? It's probably been translated if not."

"Let's go with not, I think."

Cam looks up a translation and hands her the English version of Apselpotenz.

Over the next while she asks for writing materials, headphones, the local newspaper by name (Chelford is too small to have one on its own; it's printed out of the town with the pharmacy Cam had to drive out to last night), and some snacks (she is so! delighted! to be able to taste again!!!).  One of the winged ones (in rose) practices walking around a bit; the other (in raspberry) poses for one of the more standardly configured ones (in aquamarine) to inspect and accidently but non-injuriously thwaps aquamarine in the face.

If he checks his mail there's a letter to Cam with no other content attached.

...that could just be in progress, but it could be something else. Who from?

It's Ellie!  . . . There's blood seeping out from a few places across the back of her shirt, quite visible on the white fabric.

Well shit. "Would any of you like to come along on what may be a rescue mission?" he inquires.

"Yes; what of?"

"Lady down in Londinium. She did mention she was a slave but didn't seem to consider it an emergency at the time - she'd been going to give me a tour of the power plant -" He and a Felicity are up up and away!

"And there's an emergency now?"

"She wrote me, she's bleeding, I'm going to assume there might be."

Oh no what's the thing you say when you're a human and alive and something bad is happening to another human.  ". . . Oh no!"

"Indeed." Londinium here we come.

(The view out the window is still awe-inspiringly pretty; honey-sweatered Felicity keeps her eyes on it for the rest of the flight.)

Londinium here you are!

Cam comes in for a landing.

Ellies in a five block radius of her apartment?

She's in her apartment.

That's easy then. Motorcycle, sidecar for Felicity, zoom.

No one answers out front if Cam knocks there but if he goes up to her individual door -

" - Hi.  Uh, sorry about - I remembered after I'd already written it that you said that part should go at the end; I was working on a better one . . ."  She swipes a sheet of paper off the kitchen counter, crumples it, and dumps it in a wastepaper basket, walking backwards rather than turning around.

"Yeah, I can't tell the difference between 'wrote the letter in the wrong order' and 'somehow was not able to get down more than three words'. Since you were bleeding I thought I'd figure it was the latter! What happened?"

"Stots, sorry.  I'm - fine, really, I just went to go sell the bracelets you gave me and didn't tell a very convincing story about where I'd gotten them.  Should've thought about that ahead of time."

"And this results in you bleeding? Nobody will have reported them stolen!"

"I mean it's just very obviously suspicious given that I work with crystals in a power plant and am a crafty sort of person?  I mean I don't think I could have made those but it's - reasonable for someone not to know that if they know I can make a lot of things.  And it was only four."

"Let me have a look? I went to medical school and biology is different here but I can still close wounds."

". . . If you wanted to test whether crystals you make work right I'm also - not a certified healer but like.  I would be if I was free."

"They probably don't but I can give it a go, give me specs?"