Chapter 10

"The Human Connection?" I asked, staring up at the building. I glanced at Rod, who was smugly looking back at us. "…really?"

"I need a place to hack that has full computer processing power and has no direct digital path back to my place. Why? You have a problem with it?"

"No." I looked back up at the building. "Just…surprised."

"Why?"

"I thought with you it'd be all dark hallways and back alleys. Y'know. Scum of the universe type places."

"Well I do know those places, but they also know me. Which is a problem if I don't want to be recognized."

"What's The Human Connection?" Layla asked, looking from the building to us and back again.

"Some place your guardian would have taken you if she had any brains other than bite bite kill kill," Rod chirped as he quickly skipped off ahead.

I snorted a small snarl at him before I started after him, Layla in tow. "It's a place where the magical and non-human alike can go to get help fitting into the human world. And I didn't take you here because of one main, problematic reason."

We wove around the small influx of people, Rod having already disappeared into the throng and leaving me to open the glass doors and suffer the sudden blast of artificially-refrigerated air and it's war with the outside temperatures and the sudden throng of bodies. Layla got on her tiptoes to see, and there was a flash of magic as the wards and various spells etched into the polished wood and tile accepted her as one of the lucky few and dropped the glamor in the lobby.

Her eyes widened and she sucked in a breath as what appeared to be a crowd of humans suddenly transformed into a mob of horns, hooves, teeth, wings, pointed ears, and creatures of all kinds, big and small.

"Welcome to The Human Connection," someone at a desk was saying, "sorry, yes. Wait five minutes for your group, okay? Yes, I know. Five a time helps us keep the lines moving and- yes, okay, I hear you, what was your name? Oh, right. yes." The poor woman buried under a mix of calls, clipboards, and customers spotted us and waved us over. "Hi! Are you here with group seventy?"

I shook my head. "We're waiting on a friend," I answered, shutting out as much of the ambient noise as I could. "He's meeting us in the lobby."

She nodded and started to say something when a minotaur asked her a question and she stopped long enough to answer before turning back to us. She grabbed a clipboard and held it up only for a young minotaur calf to take a liking to it and chomp down on half of it.

I took advantage of the chaos to slip away, pulling Layla behind me as I did and grateful for the chance to skip the sign-in sheet and chose a spot near the sunlit windows, far enough away from the small group of undead fang-tooths hanging out in the shadowed section of the lobby and glancing at us.

"So…so why didn't we come here?" Layla asked, ears twitching as her eyes tried to take in everything at once.

"Because," I sighed, folding my arms and presenting as an absolute threat to anyone that so much as glanced this way, "while they do good work, registration is also a part of that work."

"Registration?" She echoed. It didn't take super-senses to be able to tell she was half-listening. I gave it a moment of silence before tugging on her shirt. She paused and looked at me before giving me a shy grin and sitting down next to me. Her eyes still roamed, but at least one ear was turned towards me now.

"They take in a lot of people," I said, gesturing to the madhouse still congregating around the desk, the clipboard finally having been released by the calf, who proceeded to start crying despite being in it's parent's arms. I watched as someone with a shirt that read "Connector" on the back - the best they could afford as uniforms - came over with a small apple-looking piece of food that they offered to the parent. "They have to have some way to keep track of who they helped, and where they went. That requires registration in a system. And given that we were trying to keep a low profile…"

"Right." Layla paused, still watching as a small group of hooded figures crowded around the desk. Talons and claws could be heard clicking as they signed in, and a quick glance around gave me a shot at seeing under the hoods, the small cluster of goblins nervously asking questions that were a cover for their real question; if they were going to be safe here while they waited. "Don't they have…some kind of locks for that stuff?" Layla asked, ears now fully forward as the receptionist answered both the questions asked and unasked with a reassuring smile.

"They do," I admitted, "but registration is registration." The group shuffled off towards a part of the lobby they'd been pointed to, likely somewhere a bit darker and a bit quieter. "If it's written down it can be obtained, either legally or illegally. Locks only work if they're respected."

It took a moment for Lalya's mind to catch onto the issue, and she glanced at me with a frown. "…So they'd give up information if the ones chasing us figured out they had it?"

"Not at first," I answered, sitting back as one of the vampires nearby got up and went to the desk to ask a question. "They have a strict policy on who gets what information. They can't refuse a direct order from a recognized authority, for example. And they won't refuse a request from family or friends…so long as they've been contacted that said family or friends are allowed the information."

The woman pointed at a refrigerator and the vampire nodded thanks, heading over to it and pulling out a packet with red liquid sloshing around inside.

"But the ones chasing us aren't a recognized authority," Layla said, leaning away as one of the vampires bit into the bag. She turned to look at me, likely to directly avoid watching the feeding. "At least…not here. Right?"

"True, I don't think they are." I glanced at her. "But they could contact the Keepers, if they wanted, and the Keepers are an authority they have to deal with. And while you're not on their books…I am."

Layla frowned. "You are?"

I nodded and sat back a little. "I am." You don't get away with the level of bloodshed in my history without attracting attention. And groups, legality aside, will always get more defensive with their own. "And these guys would have to comply. Which means I become a liability to your safety."

Layla sighed and looked back at the desk, leaning back on her seat with a nod. "I get it, don't worry."

I frowned and looked at the desk with her.

"…The easy answer, then, is that if you really wanted to register with the Human Connection and have them protect you we'd have to part ways. Or I'd have to get a separate registration and keep tabs on you through different means."

Layla started and looked at me. I kept staring ahead.

"My goal is your protection," I told her. "But your previous guardian left the specifics up to me. And if this is something you want to do, we can look into it. It has it's difficulties, but it's not off the table."

Layla looked back at the desk and back at me a few times, nearly flabbergasted. I gave her a minute before she squeaked, "…really!?"

And I nodded, looking back at her.

"A life running through the wilds is how I was raised," I told her. "But I also know what it is to want a feeling of permanence. There's no shame in trying to hide in plain sight or working towards a life of calm domesticity," I said, gesturing at the full lobby. "Everyone here is looking for that in one way or another, and I hold no contempt for them. A family, a home, a sense of stability and community. These things are just as valuable as solitude and wild abandonment is to others. And sometimes, when you have these things and find yourself at risk of losing them, you are willing to fight harder for yourself and your ideal world than you are if you are constantly running or never stop to imagine an ideal world in the first place."

It wasn't my ideal, while trying to protect someone that was constantly being hunted. But a home base had it's own benefits, and in the very least an organization such as this might provide a forest for her particular tree. I hated the idea, but that was my issue.

So, with that in mind and Layla clearly thinking incredibly hard, I stood up and motioned for her to follow. "Come on," I said. "Let's at least get you a pamphlet."

"Information should proceed decision," Layla recited as she practically bounded to her feet. "But decisions shouldn't be held hostage to information."

"And why?"

"Because then you risk freezing, and a frozen target is a dead target."

I smiled as I led her back to the desk, Layla bouncing along behind and practically buzzing.

**