"She teething is," Hovan translated, then examined the bite himself. "Want you medical help?" Tarlac shook his head, grinning. "I'm not that fragile--she just startled me." "Good. She really too young is, here to be, but I wanted you all to meet." "I'm glad you did," Tarlac said, as the mother and baby left for the nursery. "She's a pretty little one." He meant it. She was prettier than a human at the same age, he found himself thinking. The infant Traiti seemed somehow more . . . finished, maybe because Traiti never grew noticeable hair, or maybe because he had adapted more thoroughly than he knew. Whatever the reason, the fact was undeniable. So was the fact, he thought grimly, that if he died in the Ordeal she would very probably die too, under Imperial weapons. "You only that say, because she the first you met have who smaller than you is," Hovan said, wondering at Steve's brief frown. This was supposed to be a glad celebration--and it was all right; the man's expression was clearing. "Well, maybe a little," Tarlac conceded. "When a teenage kid's as tall as I am and masses at least twice as much, it's nice to see someone smaller. And speaking of size--" He held up his drink, about the tenth or twelfth glass he'd traded. "This wine doesn't have much of a kick, but even if I only take a sip every time I meet someone, it won't be long before I'm wiped out. You might stay fairly sober, but I won't be able to, even if I were used to drinking. I'll probably make an ungodly fool of myself." Hovan grinned. "Probably, and it expected is. The wine mild is because you small are. If you Traiti were, we would something stronger drinking be. No adoption party successful is, unless the new ruhar must in bed poured be." Tarlac had to laugh. "By that standard, ruhar, this'll likely be the most successful adoption party in Traiti history! But let's not make it a success too early, okay? I'm hungry." "Food good sounds," Hovan agreed. "And I will with you stay, in case anything must translated be. Ka'ruchaya Yarra and I the only two are, who much English speak." Several more drink-trades later, Tarlac made it to one of the well-stocked tables and built himself a thick sandwich. That process got quite a few interested comments, but by Traiti custom none were addressed to him until he'd finished eating. When he was done, the interest in getting him drunk was replaced, at least temporarily, by inquiries about the new way of fixing something to eat. It was hard for the Ranger to believe that people as enthusiastic about food as the Traiti hadn't either stumbled across something as simple as a sandwich, or purposely developed it, but their keen attention and the eager experimentation that followed made it clear they hadn't.