Conversation · Lena, the Cryptozoologist's wife

"... where other phasmids imitate sticks or leaves, this one's a living reed. It disguises itself among the reeds here on the Insulindian coast."

"Hence its name: The Insulindian phasmid -- perhaps you'll end up co-discovering it with us, officer?" She looks you in the eye and nods thoughtfully.

There's a touch of awe in the way she enunciated the creature's name.

"I knew it. "The lieutenant sighs. "We're gonna be chasing made-up insects with cryptozoologists."

"It's not made-up, officer, I can assure you."

There's a hint of defensiveness to her retort, but also confidence. She seems to sit up a little straighter in her chair.

"It's simply elusive, so much so that most establishment zoologists doubt it exists at all."

"Is it valuable?"

"Oh, I doubt it. No one gets into cryptozoology for the money, sweetie."

"So... is it dangerous?"

She chuckles to herself. "Not at all. Why else would it hide itself so carefully?"

"Does it have cool powers?"

"Yes! It can blend in almost perfectly among the reeds." Her face lights up at the thought of it. "It's how it's stayed hidden all these years. Centuries even."

That's not special at all. Of course it blends in, most insects do. You don't even have to be a stick insect for that...

"What makes you think the phasmid is around here?"

"Well, some teenagers making out in the reeds saw one. They didn't know what it was, of course, but there was a brief article in a local newspaper. About their encounter with a ghost insect that looks like the reeds. Gary sent us the clipping."

Interesting. Maybe the phasmid made the teenagers make out?

"Maybe the phasmid made them make out?"

She laughs. "I doubt it. It's not like teenagers need much encouragement in that regard."

"So a newspaper clipping is all the evidence you have?"

"Of course, most phasmid sightings turn out to be false alarms, but their description matched the Insulindian phasmid perfectly, and they didn't even know what they were looking at!"

Enthusiasm has wiped the worry from her face. Her eyes sparkle behind her glasses.

"You seem really excited about this cryptid."

"I suppose I have something of a personal connection to the Insulindian phasmid... All scientists have their little hobby-horses."

"Okay. What's so special about this stick-bug then?" (Move on.)

"Oh dear, I'm afraid I'm not explaining this very well. It is very special..." The woman's face flushes with embarrassment.

"Morell can explain it all much better. I wish you could hear him describe it. Then you'd understand, I'm sure."

"To be honest, this animal sounds like a cryptid -- you wouldn't happen to be searching for some kind of... Gnome of Geroma would you?"

I smell pseudoscience, he's thinking. Not a big fan of that.

"It's simply elusive, so much so that most establishment zoologists doubt it exists at all."

"Establishment..." His suspicion is confirmed. "I thought so."

There's a touch of awe in the way she enunciates the creature's name.

"You're right. I don't have time for insect facts right now. Let's talk about something else."

"Of course, dear."

She was about to launch into an impassioned description, but stoppered herself. Why's that?

"I'd really like to hear about more cryptids."

"You know... to hell with it, let's have more cryptids."

"Of course, officers." She smiles politely. "Is there a particular cryptid you two are interested in learning about?"

"Of course, dear. Is there a particular cryptid that you're interested in learning about?"

"Tell me more about Morell. Looks, character, your relationship..."

"Oh dear... I'm not sure where to begin..."

"How did the two of you meet?"

"Via a dating agency, I'm ashamed to say. I was looking to get back into the scene after recovering from my accident, and he'd just divorced..."

"We hit it off and, well, here we are." She smiles wistfully.

She's skipping over some important parts... perhaps you'll find out more later.

"What does your husband look like?"

"Hmmm. Well, his expression is slightly grumpy, but his eyes are always bright and curious, like a small boy's. And his palms are quite coarse from all the field work, but he's quite gentle..."

You can't go around Revachol feeling grown men's hands. If you want to find her husband, you'll need more concrete information.

It's always a challenge to describe the person you know best in the world.

"Let's try again. If I were trying to meet him on the street, what would I look for?"

"Oh! Well, he's a bit shorter than you but with a larger frame. And he has longish white hair -- usually a bit uncombed, you might say wild even..."

The lieutenant pulls out his notebook and begins jotting down the woman's description.

"One other thing -- he'll likely have all kinds of field gear on him, even if he's not out in the reeds. You know, just in case."

"That's good enough. Let me ask you something else."

The woman's face flushes with embarrassment. "I'm sorry, sweetie. I'm afraid I'm not very good at this sort of thing."

"I think I have all the information I need. Let's move on." (Conclude.)

"I hope I've been useful."

"How long have you been married?"

"We'll be celebrating our sixteenth anniversary this autumn." Her smile is soft. "Not the most numerically satisfying anniversary, but I like the less obvious milestones even more, somehow..."

"You never told me you've seen the phasmid!"