I glanced over at him. I grinned. The herb may have still been idling in my blood. “Want to crash proper? You look frightful tired.” It came out in his voice.

He blinked at me. His eyebrows flicked up. “Well, shit. Guess you are at that. How do you do that?”

“Oh, well, mimicry is one of the forms of magical expression which…”

“No, I mean what does it feel like?”

“Oh.” I reached up to poke at my ear. He swatted my hand away. I’d never been asked that. It’s not the way Semadrans discuss magic. We teach it, we theorize, but we don’t discuss it in any personal way with anyone besides our mentors. “It feels easy, I guess. Sometimes…sometimes it’s a simpler thing to mimic. Sometimes it feels strange to speak in my own voice. Sometimes it feels like my voice is a pretense, so it’s easy to slip into someone else’s. But it’s not always easy to slip back out. And if I don’t, things get…sometimes they get confused. Does that make sense?”

“No, not really,” he said, but he smiled as he said it. “You’re an odd bird.”

“I know.”

“Good on you.”

I had a strange urge to thank him. I stood up instead and kicked idly at the wall. Sorcha walked to the edge of the platform, took a running start, and scrambled up the wall. He leaned over and offered me his hand, dragging me bodily up and over the edge. He was a good deal stronger than he looked.

I followed him back into the squat house. “Where am I sleeping?” I asked.

“With me.”

“What?”

He glanced over his shoulder. “What do you mean ‘what?’ It’s either with me or with someone else. Not much floor space available. You got the ring, fella, you’re a beggar now. No room to choose, eh? C’mon, I don’t bite. Got no bedbugs. Got a wall and a door away from the rest, which is a good deal round here.”

“What about privacy?”

“Privacy is overrated. C’mon. I got to get up early. Prynn makes me play at the crack of dawn, and you’re so tired you can’t hardly see straight.”

I underestimated what he meant when he said that. I followed him in and untied the bedroll I’d used on the trip out. Sorcha hung his lamp on its peg. I heard the rustle of cloth and thought it was a blanket. I sat back on my heels to find a good spot to roll out my bedding.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, you’re not sleeping on the floor.”