The last thing I expected after taking spot in Sasha's 'bed'—as she called it—was to wake up and find the human sleeping atop me.
…Curious.
Raising an eyebrow, I look down at her. Her body is draped across mine without hesitation, one arm loosely curled over my torso as if this were natural.
Without effort, I lift her off me and set her aside.
The grating noises of humanity's primitive transportation outside of the 'window' draw my attention.
The constant rumble, the distant horns, the occasional crash—it awakens me fully from what was, surprisingly… a rather pleasant rest.
I rise, stepping toward the window.
Below, the streets are already active.
Humans move with urgency, but not purpose. Their eyes shift constantly. Shoulders tense. Bodies angled as if expecting attack from any direction.
Paranoia.
Two vehicles collide at an intersection. Both operators immediately exit, shouting at one another as if noise alone will resolve the situation.
…I fail to see the logic.
Behind me, Sasha stirs.
A low groan escapes her as she shifts, clearly unwilling to wake. I continue observing the outside world for a few more seconds before speaking.
"Tell me," I say evenly, not turning, "is it human custom to sleep atop one another?"
There's a pause.
Then a groggy, half-awake response.
"Wha—? No… not really—but—"
"So why were you resting atop me?" I interrupt, turning slightly. "You displayed no hesitation."
Sasha pushes herself up on her elbows, hair a mess, eyes half-lidded with sleep.
"There's only one bed in this apartment," she snaps, voice still rough, "and I'll be damned if I sleep on the floor for you!"
Her voice rises near the end—more instinct than intention.
Then she realizes.
Her eyes meet mine.
And just like that, the fire dims slightly.
"…I mean—" she clears her throat, shrinking just a fraction under my gaze, "you're the one who decided to take up, like, all the space."
Amusing.
My eyes shift downward, noting her current state. She is clad in minimal covering—a loose garment that conceals only what is necessary.
I observe for a moment longer than necessary.
She notices.
"…Okay, eyes up here, alien," she mutters, grabbing a nearby object.
I follow her movement as she points a small device toward a glass-and-metal box positioned across the room.
It activates instantly.
My eyes narrow slightly in interest.
A human male appears within the screen, speaking clearly.
"Batman has taken down the Joker yet again after he attempted to—"
The words fade into the background as my attention shifts.
"Sasha," I say, "is this one of your leaders? Is he issuing directives through this projection?"
She stares at me.
Then—laughs.
Not mockingly. Just… genuinely amused.
"No, no—okay, wow, we have a lot to cover," she says, swinging her legs off the bed. "That's a news anchor. He tells people what's going on. It's information, not orders."
"…So he speaks, and the population listens."
"Yeah, but we don't have to listen," she adds quickly.
"Most people just like knowing what's happening."
"…Voluntary information sharing," I murmur.
Interesting.
"I was unaware humanity had the ability to control their weather," I continue, gesturing toward the screen.
"That is… unexpectedly advanced."
She freezes.
Then groans.
"Oh my god—no, we don't control the weather," she says, dragging a hand down her face. "We just predict it. Like guessing. With science."
"…Guessing," I repeat flatly.
"Educated guessing," she corrects. "Big difference."
Before I can respond, the screen shifts again.
Now—
A being with spiked hair stands against a cosmic backdrop.
A planet is destroyed with a single motion.
I go still.
…That level of power.
My eyes sharpen. If anything attack like that hits even me I wouldn't escape unharmed
"Sasha," I say slowly, "how does humanity persist when beings capable of planetary destruction exist within its population?"
There is a pause.
Then—
She bursts out laughing.
Like genuinely laughing.
"Thragg—oh my god—that's not real!" she says, clutching her stomach slightly. "That's Vegeta—from Dragon Ball. It's a cartoon!"
I look back at the screen.
Then at her.
"…Explain."
She steps closer, still grinning, and takes the device, switching the screen again.
"That's fiction. We make stories. None of that actually happened."
"…Then why depict it with such realism?"
"Because it's entertaining," she says simply. "People like imagining stuff like that."
I consider this.
"…A species that creates fictional superior beings for amusement."
"Yeah. Pretty much."
The screen shifts again—this time to grainy footage.
A figure in shadow dismantling multiple armed men with precision.
Efficient.
But…
Slow.
"We do have people like that though," Sasha continues, leaning casually beside me now. "Meta-humans, heroes, villains… stuff like that. There's this really strong hero—Superman."
Her tone shifts slightly.
More animated.
"Total hunk," she adds under her breath.
I ignore that.
"His abilities resemble yours," she continues. "Super strength, flight, speed… he's like—top tier. Then there's Wonder Woman, and the Justice League."
She moves again, switching the screen to a different program—a documentary.
I watch.
And for the first time since arriving—
I am… impressed.
"…Interesting."
Superman's displays of power are… considerable.
Wonder Woman as well.
They are not equals.
But they are not insignificant.
"These two," I say, gesturing slightly, "are the most capable."
"Yeah, pretty much," Sasha nods. "They're kind of the heavy hitters."
"The third," I continue, "Batman."
I pause.
"…Explain his relevance."
Sasha blinks.
"Oh—uh—well… okay, so he's not strong like them," she admits, rubbing the back of her neck. "But he's, like… insanely smart. Strategist. Planner. He's
basically the guy who keeps everyone else in check."
I go silent.
My fist tightens subtly.
A leader…
Not through strength.
But through intellect.
"…I see."
Like Lord Argall.
The thought surfaces—
—and is crushed instantly.
Irrelevant.
Gone.
A scent reaches me.
I turn.
Sasha stands near a heating unit, holding a flat metal surface over an open flame. Something cooks atop it.
"You spaced out for, like, thirty minutes," she says, glancing at me. "Kinda thought you died standing up or something."
"I do not 'space out,'" I reply.
"…Yeah, sure."
She smirks slightly, then tilts the pan.
"But hey, looks like my cooking snapped you out of it. Hungry?"
I consider.
I am.
"Very well."
—
After consuming what Sasha referred to as "a whole carton of eggs"—raw, much to her horror—I feel… restored.
Completely.
The lingering fatigue from my arrival is gone.
"I don't have enough money for you to be eating like that!" Sasha snaps, pacing slightly now. "You didn't even let me cook them—you just—cracked them open and drank them! Who does that?!"
"…They were efficient," I reply.
"That's not the point!"
She throws her hands up.
"And you can't walk around wearing that either!" she adds, pointing at me. "You stick out like a sore thumb. That's a death wish in Gotham!"
"There is not a being on this planet capable of harming me," I state calmly. "I have observed your strongest individuals. They are… noteworthy. But not comparable."
"That's not—ugh!" she groans. "It's not about strength! It's about attention! And I don't want that kind of attention!"
I pause.
Then nod once.
"…Very well."
She blinks.
"…Wait. Really?"
"Lead me to the nearest human clothing distribution unit."
She stares at me.
Then narrows her eyes.
"You mean a store," she says flatly. "And you could say 'please.' It won't kill you."
"…Unnecessary."
She exhales slowly.
"You are a lot."
"And yet you continue to assist me."
"…Yeah, I'm starting to question that decision."
—
The journey is slow.
Painfully so.
But I tolerate it.
For now.
Sasha clings to my arm as we walk through the streets. Each time a group of males looks her way, her grip tightens slightly.
I notice.
And I do not remove her.
"Do human males prioritize reproduction above all else?" I ask. "Their gazes suggest fixation."
"…Wow. Subtle," Sasha mutters.
"And how have you avoided being taken by one of them?" I continue, genuinely curious.
She stops walking.
"…Okay. First of all? Ew," she says, pointing at me. "Second? That's not how that works. Third? You are this close to getting smacked."
I look down at her. More amused at the threat than offended.
"…Noted."
She sighs, continuing forward.
"Look, Gotham's a mess, yeah. But people aren't just animals. Most of them, anyway."
"…Most."
She gives me a look.
"…You're learning."
—
We arrive at the store.
A small tailor shop.
The bell rings as we enter.
A woman behind the counter looks up—
And immediately lights up.
"Sasha? Girl, is that you?" she says, walking over quickly. "And damn—who is this?"
Sasha groans.
"Oh my god, not you too—"
"Don't even start," the woman grins, eyeing me up and down. "You just gonna show up after disappearing for weeks with a whole specimen on your arm?"
"He's not my man," Sasha says quickly, face heating slightly. "He's just—new in town."
"Mmhm. Sure he is."
I interrupt.
"I require new attire," I state. "Provide it."
The woman pauses.
Then looks at Sasha.
"…He always this polite?"
Sasha nudges me hard. I barely feel it. But it gets my attention
"Thragg—manners."
"…This is inefficient."
"Try anyway."
I exhale. Deciding to try it the human way.
"…Provide appropriate clothing."
The woman snorts.
"Better. Barely."
Sasha pulls out 'money', setting it down.
"Something lowkey," she says. "That fits him. And doesn't scream 'I could punch through a building.'"
"No promises on that last part," the woman mutters, already heading to the back. "But I'll see what I can do."
As she disappears, Sasha leans closer to me.
"Her name's Dani," she whispers. "And she will not shut up once she gets going, so just—brace yourself."
"I am always prepared."
"…Yeah, we'll see about that."
—
Moments later—
I stand in the new attire.
The shirt is fitted. Restrictive.
The pants looser.
Boots heavier.
"…Acceptable," I conclude.
From the side—
"Woah," Dani mutters, leaning against the counter. "Yeah, no, that should be illegal."
Sasha crosses her arms, trying—and failing—to look unimpressed.
"Y-yeah," she says. "He cleans up… okay, I guess."
Dani grins.
"Girl, if you don't want him, I'll take him."
"He's not a stray dog!"
"…Could've fooled me. He just walked in and demanded clothes."
I remain silent.
Observing.
Learning.
…Humans are strange.
But—
Not uninteresting.