“So, demon-boy…” We were back in the training room with more otherlings than last time, the tables and chairs removed and replaced with various fitness equipment that, of course, not very many otherlings knew how to use. Those who weren’t already stretching or straining against a machine were staring blankly ahead, their animal or nonliving souls unsure of what to do. “Man, I’ve got to stop calling you that.”
“Oh, are you going to name me now?” He was mentally debating whether to go on the machine that would have looked more in place in a museum display of medieval torture devices or some simple weights. “What are you going to call me, galaxy-girl?”
“Can’t you name yourself?” I sat on the torture-looking thingy, not knowing how to operate it.
“Fine. I’ll be… Calum. The closest thing to what it was back home. Too bad the language isn’t well verbalized by humans.”
“And I’ll be…” I glanced at the nametag of the zorph overseeing this training session. Olive. “Ophelia. That’s how they say ‘olive’ on one of the planets in my galaxy.”