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Leah could, if she wanted, call up any number of people and ask them to do her a favour by giving her a lift to the farm.

She chooses to take a cab because that's one step closer to independence, and she's weird like that.

Which is why, one afternoon, said cab pulls up alongside the farm and deposits a blonde woman in sunglasses and carrying a white cane, who tips generously before it heads off. She takes a few seconds to orient herself before heading up the path towards the farmhouse.

She's hoping to find a person in particular, but anyone who gets in her way will be spoken to.

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"—Yeah, sure."

Val flicks out a tentacle and rests the end of it in Leah's hand. It starts out light and soft, almost squishy, like a living feather pillow. The surface is smooth, neither sticky nor slippery.

"I dunno about texture, but I can do like, weight and density and shit."

The tentacle-end rolls up into a little ball and grows heavier, more rigid, until it's more like iron than goosedown.

"Fucking ay."

Leah, also, swears like a sailor. She also has arm muscles at the crazy end of the baseline human spectrum, so when they tense under the weight, it means something.

"How much have you got to work with?"

"How much? As much as I can think about all at the same time, I guess."

She lets the tentacle lighten again, ending up with something resembling a very smooth baseball on the end of a very smooth rope.

"I can make really big wings and a fuckton of tentacles, but if I've gotta do all that and pick a lock, I'm gonna forget about something and it'll go poof, like I said."

"Gotcha," Leah says, with a quick nod.

"D'you like blades?"

"I learned how to do swords a while back," she offers. "Like, make 'em, I mean. Still working on the 'use 'em' part."

Which isn't the best news, but it's not bad.

"What worked against the last lot you went up against? Rach said they weren't fans of sharp."

"I hit 'em, stabbed 'em, picked 'em up and smashed 'em into things, whatever. Don't remember if one of those worked particularly better'n the rest. Oh, uh, I think I threw one off a tower, too. That worked like a fucking charm."

Leah grins, approving of all these tactics.

"Stabbing and dropping'll work. Is it hard to carry things?"

"Depends what I'm carrying, I guess. Not usually any harder than carrying something in my hand and remembering not to drop it."

"What's your weight limit?"

Because Leah's willing to bet it greater than something she can carry in her hand.

"Fuckin'... dunno."

There's a short pause while she tries to remember the heaviest thing she's ever lifted.

"Picked up an eighteen-wheeler once and my feet sank into the ground," she offers. "That was a bitch. And I can't fly too good with more'n a couple people; I end up flapping like a chicken that fell off a roof. So, uh, I guess I can carry whatever's a lot lighter'n a truck? And in the air I can do two passengers, three or four if I don't need to be anywhere in a hurry?"

Leah laughs out loud.

"Bloody hell, man. I fucking love paraphysics."

Val snickers. "Yeah, me too."

"Alright," Leah says, nodding. "I think I got enough. You looking to do some damage?"

"Always." Her grin is audible in the word.

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