There was a busy energy to the man that reminded Gabriela of a bee -- bumbling around, buzzing, and zipping from one flower to the next, with some kind of goal in mind, but the appearance of utter chaos for anyone observing. He was by far one of the largest men she had ever seen and that was no easy feat for she had found herself surrounded, in her past lives, by creatures of great stature. But certainly, he was by far the gentlest of the giants she had ever met. Yes, there was something about him that appeared as harmless and sweet-natured as a hardworking little honey bee, but she was well aware of the fact that he might well carry a stinger. 

And then, as if to confirm her suspicions about his gentle disposition, the man seemed to reflect for a moment on any potential appearance of rudeness and so he offered her a drink. It was the fact that he opened his coat just as he made the offer that filled her with a good dose of her own busy and anxious energy. Suddenly her head was buzzing with the temptation of blood -- a thought she had not allowed herself to even consider in what felt like years. 


A drink, he said, and a drink he offered as she saw the puncture marks on his chest and stomach. They seemed to be shallow enough wounds, but who could really tell with a man of his size? He could be feigning strength when in reality he was terribly hurt. But he was grinning as he held out a small glass bottle to her, filled to the brim with a clear liquid that she was sure would burn the inside of her nose if she dared to open it and sniff.

“No, thank you,” she replied, holding out a small pale hand as she shook her head.

[i]“I’d offer my coat, but…” [/i]the sleeve of his coat shifted like a living mechanical thing. 

She smiled -- a tight and reserved smile as she observed the man carry on, almost by himself now. And yet she was captivated by his many quirks. She could already see why his small child was so endearing, clearly, she had a father who nurtured, if not encouraged, the child’s unique personality. 

That was a rare thing to see in a parent. 

And then that same busy and quick energy caused the man to perform a bit of magic. And she, still standing there near the door, observed with quiet but intense interest as the man formed and shaped a metallic flower. This small work of art was handed to her and she did not think twice about reaching out to collect the gift. It seemed a silly and stupid thing to be accepting flowers from strangers, but she could not find any suggestion of ill will from the man.

“It’s beautiful,” she told him as she held the flower close to her face and examined the craftsmanship. There were so many questions that danced on the tip of her tongue -- how had he managed it, what sort of powers or magic did he utilize, and did he carry around the material for this sort of project or steal it from the environment. 
But he wasn’t interested in that.

[i]“So, where are you from? It occurred to me that most likely none of us are originally from this strange place.”[/i]

The question struck her into a sort of shocked silence. The sheer scope of her situation became suddenly apparent to her and what was left in place of the sheer shock of it all was the sudden flood of helplessness. 

“I don’t know,” she confessed, her eyebrows pinching and her golden stare remaining fixed on the flower in her hand, “--I don’t think the world, I mean, the universe is as I once knew it.”

She sighed and slowly made her way to sit close to the stranger.

“I look up at the night sky and I do not recognize the pattern of the stars -- in fact, I do not recognize a single one, not a single one of those stars, as familiar.”

She was looking up, her expression helpless. 

“I have no idea where I am or how I could possibly get home.”

Silence lingered between them, heavy and pregnant with possible interpretations. As a way to end the awkwardness, the man asked her if she was warm enough. Her cloak was still soaked, and the hem of it was caked in mud. But apart from simply being uncomfortable and a burden to handle, she merely shook her head and stared down at the flower she had been given.

“The cold doesn’t bother me -- I don’t even feel it. But what about you? Where is your child? Why are you here -- this place hardly seems appropriate for decent folk.”