Jeanne and Aria were sitting on a sofa in their tree-house. The sofa matched the interior as in, it was also shaped from natural materials; wood, branches, leaves. Aria glanced at the lawyer with her predatory gaze, scanning every inch of her petite body.
Jeanne on the other hand politely nodded.
Most importantly Jack was let out of his jar-cage. Well kind off, he was put in a different cage: a cage made of branches. He wasn't being punished. Leena decided to keep him there so she could observe him better.
"So you claim to be a talking slime and not a demon?" Leena asked.
She wrapped her honey colored hair into a neat bun and adjusted the glasses on her small nose. Her eyes were slightly doubtful.
Jack grabbed onto the bar like a criminal. He was absolutely losing his mind over everyone calling him a demon. Did no other species reincarnate? Where were the angels? The shapeshifters? The heroes of other worlds?
"I'm Jack Der Quiver. A human who died and got reincarnated as a slime," he said, with all the indignity of a man being told he was a dog again for the fifth time.
His lawyer blinked owlishly. Adjusting her spectacles, she started writing. The scratch of her quill on parchment was a loud, scratching protest in the silence of the tree-house.
Feeling as if she was writing far too long for something as simple as "not a demon", Jack said, "Why are you writing so much? It's just three words: not a demon."
Leena looked up, her cheeks flushed, "I... am noting your unique perspective on ontological metaphysics."
Jack quivered. He was just an average high school graduate from Earth who liked a bit of pirate coins and a bit of swords. Not some philosopher.
"So let's go over some facts, Mr. Der Quiver," She cleared her throat, "You were summoned by Ms. D'Amain here using a demonic ritual that connects to hell yet claim no demonic heritage."
Jeanne straightened her back, her one good hand resting on her milky thigh, her gaze unwavering despite the weight of heresy hanging over her. "It was... a last resort," she said.
Nodding at her, Leena continued, "What was the reason you decided to summon a demon Ms. D'Amain?" The lawyer had a professional, yet sweet and soft, way about her.
The priestess bit her lips and glanced at Jack who was trying to eat the branch by taking tiny bites like a squirrel with rabies.
She pulled on her collar and gulped. She didn't want to say this in front of Jack but asylum was more important than her own hypocrisy.
"I... uh wanted to... feel what it was like to hold hands."
Before Leena could jot something down in her note pad, Jack exploded.
"What?! You've been guilt-tripping me this whole time about your precious hand-chastity... And you literally summoned me for that exact reason!?"
Jack grew a tentacle and tried to forcibly grab her hand. The hypocrisy was real. This woman wasn't a priestess, she was a professional trickster.
She slapped his tentacle away like it was a balloon.
"It is not the same! You're a slime."
"Actually," Aria interjected, her crimson eyes glinting with mischief, "That's the definition of the same. But it does sound fun."
The vampire had a small laugh, her shoulders shaking slightly. The elven lawyer had turned smoking red as a tomato as she feverishly continued writing. She was getting a bit lightheaded from this group.
"Uhm, does this mean you've actually held hands with Ms. D'Amain?" Leena asked Jack.
"Of course," he scoffed. He wanted to rub it in her face about all those handholding points but he didn't. He was a gentle-slime.
Abruptly Leena stopped writing. Her forehead creased.
"Inappropriate handholding is immediate dismissal for asylum here in Vylara." Her sweet, professional tone was gone, replaced by one of disappointment.
"I'm sorry Mr. Quiver but I can't help you."
Disbelief washed over Jack. There was no way he actually was going to be handed over to Rethia because of handholding. It felt absurd; it was a cruel joke.
"But I literally don't have hands I'm a monster."
Aria nodded, "It doesn't make sense."
Leene took off her glasses, "I wanted to argue for your asylum by claiming you were in fact not a monster but an intelligent demon-like creature from a dungeon."
She adjusted her sitting position. The whole room got quiet.
"It is common for boss-like creatures found in dungeons to possess such intelligence. However thanks to the handholding, by law you can't be considered one of these creatures... So you'd be a monster and unfortunately there has never been a case where monsters were granted asylum."
Her sigh was soft but weighted, "Now if you have committed such an act you're considered an even bigger monster."
The priestess stood up, "But we're married," she protested. She knew the first time that it happened, they weren't married and that a small lie in this world could lead to death but to them it was the only hope they had. If it works.
"I see."
Putting her glasses back on, Leena picked up her pen.
"Were you married at the time of the incident?" she asked professionally. Jeanne and Jack exchanged glances.
They answered simultaneously.
"Yes."
Sensing a slight hesitation from Jeanne, she stopped. She studied her and then Jack. Her eyes narrowed.
"A marriage between a priestess and a slime... I'm sorry but I don't buy it."
Her earlier gentle demeanor had been replaced by a lawyer dissecting a contradiction in a witness testimony.
But Jeanne stood up. She used a holy dagger to cut off her singular glove and extended her hand to Jack, skin to slime.
[Consentual Interspecies Spousal Hand-holding + 1000 points] the system chimed.
The connection between them crackled in the sterile natural room, a forbidden current of intimacy and desperation. Jack was smiling. Because of the points and because he knew Jeanne was not enjoying a single moment of it.
He made sure to squeeze a little bit of blue slime goo into her palm. A slime kiss.
Their advocate's jaw dropped, her pen falling to the ground, its tip dripping a single, perfect blot of black ink onto the floor.
However the romantic gesture was cut short when Jeanne squeezed his tentacle and popped it like a balloon.