Djinn finished the last piece of ham with breakfast. Glory didn't want anymore to eat. He stared into his coffee for a long moment, thinking about their conversation last night. He wondered if somehow he'd lied to her. Not intentionally. Could he have stayed away from her? Ever? No matter what? They HAD met, when she was about five years old, and their lives had seemed intertwined since then. It was when they were en-route to Fiera. She was just a little thing who seemed far older and more intelligent than a little girl should be. Glory was sitting with her uncle at a private table on the ship - as far away from her mother as she could get. Uncle Eli was like the daddy she never had. That was a long and ugly story. Djinn and Glory both knew now what they hadn't known twenty years ago. Known: He was a hybrid of two very different souls. She was a hybrid too, but not the same sort. 'Kitties and Puppies", as her uncle Eli called it half-jokingly. He and Rita were half Were-Wolf and half Were-Hags...Jaguars. Eli was more the wolf, and Glory's mother Rita was the Hag. And boy, was she. Previously Unknown: Now they both understood that they shared a third 'race' in both their grandfathers on their mother's sides - the Grigori: those who brought them to this place and told them about The Game. The Game was everything to the Grigori. Were they Aliens? Were they angels? Gods? Demons? Just some kind of Cosmic Gamers and World-Creators? Djinn and Glory had agreed once before: they really didn't know what the hell the Grigori were or what to call them besides 'The Grigori'. So they left it at that. He watched Glory put the dishes in the sink to soak, after scraping them off. He'd cooked. It all worked out. He really had no complaints. Just lots of questions that likely no one could or would answer. Was it the Grigori in them both that had somehow tied them both together from the time they met? Even as bad as he was, living as he did - on the road mostly - would he have actually endangered her? Or would he have refused to do the Clan's contracts and fallen afoul of the Elders? That would be the result, either way. There was nothing outwardly different about her - if you didn't look into her eyes. Then again, she was one of a kind. That soul in that little girl's body was very old. Far older than her age in this life. Did she remember things he didn't? Does she even know she remembers them or is it all gut feeling? It seemed the latter, more than anything. All he knew for sure was this was a damn sight better than Life on Earth. That was Hell. Hell on Earth. Earth is Hell. So, was coming to a world like Fiera like going to Heaven? He laughed to himself at the thought. It seemed ridiculous...but his Grandfather DID once tell him that sometimes, the Game writes Itself. What the hell did THAT mean, anyway? The scary part of all that was Grandpa was the Dungeon Master for this Crew.