ic contact;

[originallutece]

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[uncertainrelation]

On three.

[He's so excited. This is going to be so magnificent. And he's got his bit of the carrot all ready, perfectly poised for the —]

One...two...

[originallutece]

Three.

[They offer their hands at the same time, perfectly in sync, and for a long moment it seems as if Robin is overwhelmed. Two choices, how is he supposed to choose between two? The little dragon squeaks, dances nervously on the sand, and then darts forward, snatching both pieces out of their fingers and keeping them firmly in his mouth. He looks like a bloody chipmunk, both pieces shoved into his cheeks, but at least he's gotten all the food offered.

And it seems their ploy worked: soon a feeling of contentment settles through both their minds, and Rosalind smiles.]

There we go . . . now how are you going to eat those, my lad?

[uncertainrelation]

Very carefully, I would imagine, and greedily at that.

[Unable to resist the psychic urge, Robert sighs contentedly himself — like a yawn following a yawn.]

...Think of the tests we'll be able to run, Rosie. Seeking to replicate that sort of empathic transmission...won't that be a delight?

[originallutece]

Not to mention the effect on one's brain repeated transmissions might have.

[She reaches for Robin, scratching him gently against his side. The little dragon seems to have come up against a vast problem; he can't chew without spitting one out, but he doesn't want to spit it out because then someone might take it.

He throws Robert a rather agonized look. Help him.]

How dragons fly, and what chemicals they have to ingest in order to breathe fire . . . good god, we could spend a whole year on him alone.

[uncertainrelation]

[Poor little guy. He flattens his hand and holds it palm-up underneath the dragon's mouth, inviting it to spit — ugh — and remedy its situation. Robert is its new buddy; perhaps that will exempt him from suspicion?]

We'll have to get hold of some of the, ah...whatever it's called. "Dragonstone", or whatever it is. The mineral they eat; one lad on the network mentioned it briefly.

[originallutece]

And come up with a substitute ourselves, once we discover its properties. It oughtn't be too hard.

[Not that they really ought to encourage Robin to breathe fire around their home, but the prospect is too intriguing not to test out.

Robin, meanwhile, seems to have long since learned to trust Robert. He promptly spits out one carrot bit and starts chewing furiously on the other, that same rosy joy pervading their minds once more. Good, that's the feeling here. Good good good, he's getting fed and there's more food on the way and he's with his Luteces, so all is well in the world.]

Oh, disgusting. Put that in the sand, good god, you don't know what his saliva contains.