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[Ella still isn't sold on settling here. She probably never will be, but you didn't grow up in her world without knowing how to adapt. At least not when you were raised by parents who worked with creatures most people didn't believe existed and had been alive long enough to watch history repeat itself.

As far as she can tell, she's stranded here indefinitely, and she doesn't want to gain attention for being a "child" on her own in a strange place. She appreciates the concern, but she hates the idea they might be treating her differently or hiding things from her simply because of her age.

Besides, she wants to make herself useful.]

How can I help?

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Professor.

[It's nice to see him again. She doesn't feel quite as alone, knowing he's around.]

I suppose it would be a good guess if I were to assume you have not been settling in well, yet. In need of something to do?

[Or someplace to stay? He hasn't forgotten that she'd claimed to not have anywhere yet, though he's assuming she has at least not been sleeping in the ship or the streets all this time.]

I like feeling useful.

[Technically, she's staying at The Flop, though she had considered both of those options.]

I should at least be doing my share.

Quite understandable. I feel the same way. What do you do, Miss Ella? Do you have skills in research or the arts, farming or, ah, manufacture?

[Delicate question, that. Young ladies of the upper sets would be horrified at the idea of trade in any fashion, and Lyall simply doesn't know her station.]

I think that depends on what you consider skill. The only thing I'm really good at is music. [That, of course, is far from the truth, but her focus is far too scattered for her to have mastered any other skill set she may have.]

Which is, indeed, a skill, though a harder one to find a niche for in a place like this, I'm afraid.

[However, he has the feeling that she's selling herself short.]

You said your father was an investigator-- did he ever teach you any of his skills with research and paperwork? The hospital and the local trader could have use of both, and the Vault of Knowledge--

[He pauses to smile a bit at the preposterous name for a makeshift library.]

--could probably always use a hand to help organize it.

[He could probably suggest work in the fields or the weather-proofing, but what sort of work is that for a young lady? Not one he'd recommend.]

I wouldn't call it teaching. [She half trails off. Her abilities are one thing she's still somewhat hesitant about sharing.

Absently, she tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear, studying him curiously.] That's like a library, right?

A very jumbled and disorganized library, with a very possessive librarian. That could be somewhere you could offer your services. I imagine Mister Nem could use a bit of help, he does always seem quite busy.

[And if she isn't insistant on visiting at night when Nem has better things to do than babysit visitors, perhaps she'll have better luck than he has.]

If he's so possessive, he must love it. Why wouldn't he keep it more organized?

I'm not privy to that, I'm afraid. You might try asking him. Perhaps he simply hasn't had the time to organize it since the collection came into his care.

[Given Nem's general to-do list and the size of the collection, that is Lyall's best guess. The man certainly didn't amass it, himself, there was too much.]

Maybe I'll talk to him, then.

Good luck, Miss Ella.

[And smile. Maybe he's even helped a bit. He can certainly hope so.]

Thank you, Professor.

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