Damn it.
Should I accept? It didn't sound smart to bond with a creature I'd just met, let alone one from a Distorted Realm, but if I didn't, it was going to die.
I didn't know what I was doing, but I didn't want to be the reason it disappeared either.
And why was the System asking me to bond with him? That almost sounded like concern. True, we didn't know much about the System, but… was this normal?
I said yes.
The bond took hold instantly.
-
[System Notification: Elemental bond commenced!
New abilities unlocked.
Combat augmentation enabled.
Elemental channel enabled.]
-
I had no time to wonder about any of that because suddenly Penguin sneezed.
A breeze rolled through the flat, condensation blooming on the inside of the windowpanes. The floor chilled under my palms.
"Uh..."
Penguin sneezed again. This time, a thin layer of frost spread across the coffee table, the furniture, the lamp holders.
I scrambled to my feet. "Okay, no—no ice indoors please! Do you have any idea how much heating costs?"
Penguin looked up at me, clearly distressed, then shivered and turned into a puff of steam, before reforming into the fire fox I'd first discovered him as.
The frost began to fade.
I backed toward a sofa and plonked myself down.
It looked like Penguin wasn't doing great either.
I leaned forward and reached for him gently.
"Hey, are you okay?"
Penguin scooted into my downward palm, still shaking. Tiny flames engulfed my palm but somehow they didn't hurt.
The System pinged again.
-
[System Notification: Bond stabilizing.
Emotional adjustment: Successful.
Bond strength: 9%.
Warning: Elemental capacity currently exceeds user handling threshold. Caution advised.]
-
What?
When I moved my hand back, Penguin was back to being a penguin and had stopped shaking. I stroked him and watched him carefully until he calmed down.
After a few moments, he looked up at me with dazed eyes, then climbed back into the mug and promptly fell asleep.
I exhaled.
This was partly my fault. Granted, the Guildford Distorted Realm had since vanished, so Penguin would have likely vanished with it had I not brought the wristwatch home.
Still, I felt responsible.
I didn't know what to do, but it didn't seem right to abandon him.
I shook myself, suddenly aware of the ache in my bones again.
I needed a shower and a nap before my shift started—and possibly dinner.
I took off my hoodie and padded tiredly toward the bathroom.
I showered on autopilot, barely remembering to turn the water off. Everything ached. The warmth helped, but not enough.
I toweled off, dragged myself to my bedroom, and collapsed on top of the covers.
***
When I opened my eyes again, the flat was quiet.
I sat up slowly, squinting. I had no idea how long I'd been asleep, but a quick look at the clock told me if I wanted to eat before my shift I had to be quick.
Well, at least I'd woken up in time. I couldn't believe I'd been so tired I forgot to set an alarm.
Relieved, I got up and walked toward the kitchen.
...The freezer was open.
Penguin was standing inside. He had somehow climbed into the ice cube tray, now partially tipped sideways, and was inspecting one of the cubes in it with his face squished against the plastic.
One slot had a single grape perfectly frozen inside. Another held what looked like a button. A third was just an unusually shiny cube of ice.
Penguin, no bigger than my palm, was currently inspecting them happily.
Well, I suppose it wasn't too weird that a Penguin wanted to be around ice.
Luckily I didn't have any meat or fish in the freezer, just some ice cream.
"I have to make dinner," I told him. "Please don't freeze anything else."
Penguin blinked at me innocently, then hopped out of the tray, trailing a thin mist behind him.
Since it looked like he was done, I closed the freezer and turned to grab a pan and an egg.
By the time I had retrieved the vegetables and had lit the stove, Penguin had clambered up onto the counter and was staring at the flame like he was watching the sun rise.
I caught the look. "You're not about to sneeze again, are you?"
Penguin waddled closer.
Before I could put the pan down, he flared briefly into his fire fox form and perfectly seared one of the pumpkin slices I'd set aside.
I stared.
Penguin turned to me like he was expecting praise.
I took a taste.
Damn, it tasted amazing, like something restaurant-grade.
I hadn't even seasoned it yet.
"Okay," I said. "I guess you can continue if you like."
I moved the pan off the heat while Penguin watched with laser focus as I arranged more slices. Then, instead of putting it back on the stove, I nudged the pan toward Penguin.
He turned in a circle happily for a second, then seared all the slices perfectly.
I put them away and turned around to grab an egg and some toast.
By the time I'd cracked the egg into the pan, Penguin had moved closer, still in his fire fox form, watching intently.
I let him fry the egg too, then I tossed the bread into the toaster.
Penguin gave a short burst of heat—not at the toast, thankfully, just upwards, and I threw myself in front of the toaster, shielding it.
"No!" I yelped. "No fire near the toaster! It's dangerous."
Penguin returned to his penguin shape, looking chastened. He looked at me mournfully, then climbed up onto a stack of folded kitchen towels like he was claiming a perch.
He really liked firing things up, it seemed.
I wondered if he could summon Water as well. Maybe he'd like washing the dishes too.
Well, I didn't really have the time to find out now, anyway.
I finished up preparing my food, then put everything on a plate.
Penguin jumped off the towels and I scooped him up, moving him to the table as I sat down. He waddled over like he wanted to inspect the results. He nudged at the plate briefly, then looked up at me.
"Do you eat?" I asked, taking a bite of toast. I couldn't tell if he was expecting a share or just running quality control.
Penguin stared.
I pushed a small piece of pumpkin toward him.
Penguin looked at it, then ignored it, sitting down on the table with a plop.
Damn. Did he have to be so adorable?
I took a small piece of bread and tried to offer it to him again.
Penguin looked at it, then turned and wandered off.
Alright, maybe he didn't like bread. Or vegetables.
I watched him turn into a sugar glider and throw himself off the kitchen table and toward the counter. Then, he reached the fridge door and climbed up, like he wanted to inspect the magnets.
I finished my food, though I kept an eye on him.
Penguin didn't try to eat anything. Didn't seem hungry at all.
As I put away my plate and started making coffee, it occurred to me that I could just ask the System.
"Hey," I said. "Does Penguin eat?"
[System Notification: Entity #77A3—unofficially designated "Penguin"—does not require physical sustenance. Nutritional intake is unnecessary for its continued function. However, it might enjoy certain foods.]
I glanced at Penguin, who was now pushing a fridge magnet across the door. Which foods did he like?
-
[System Notification: Entity #77A3 may benefit from environmental enrichment and emotional closeness.
Bonding still in progress.
Bond strength: 27%.]
-
Well. Maybe I could ask the System if he had any suggestions for my own environmental enrichment and emotional closeness. I was sure they were severely lacking.
I finished making my coffee quickly, checking the time.
Less than ten minutes before I had to clock in for my shift.
Penguin was back on the table in his penguin form.
"Alright," I said. "You're staying here for now. I have work to do. Don't set anything on fire. Don't freeze the toilet. Don't—"
Penguin gave a sleepy wobble, clearly not listening.
I sighed and walked into the living room to grab my laptop and settle on the sofa with my mug of coffee.
From the corner of my eye, I watched Penguin following behind.