Staring at the small building that was Nester's home, Sophia turned on her scientific reasoning and studied the small, wooden hut. The walls were made of vertically-stacked logs, with thick tar packed into each crack. The roof was covered with a black, mossy substance which sparkled in the sunlight.

Stepping up to the wall, Sophia picked at a flake of the tar, and found it very hard and brittle. She managed to snap off a tiny piece of it and looked at the crumbs which stuck to her thumb.

"I've seen a few houses like this outside the urban centers," Sophia commented. "They're a huge contrast to the brick and mortar constructs in the city."

"This is an old home," Nester replied. "The exterior is original, nearly three centuries old, but I've renovated the interior with clean paneling and modern furniture. Homes like these were the quarters of indigent families for centuries, before the modern industrial era."

Sticking his clawed finger into a round hole under the door handle, Nester picked inside it a moment, then the lock disengaged, and a twist of the handle opened the door.

"I don't suppose I could get a key for that," Sophia mentioned.

"Oh, but I have one," Nester replied. "The lock can be picked by any curved pointer," he mentioned, raising his right forefinger. "Especially in this day and age, where most sensible people keep their claws clipped, keys are generally favored."

"Do your nails ever break?"

"Occasionally," Nester said. "It's more common if you work a physical trade."

Entering Nester's humble abode, Sophia scrutinized the surroundings as only a true student of alien culture could. The interior was dimly lit by a few minuscule windows, but she could make out most of the furniture and nick-nacks lying around. The chairs were nothing remarkable, not much different than what could be found on earth, and the few books and trinkets lying around seemed unremarkable.

"Are you hungry?" Nester asked.

"Very," Sophia replied, looking at a sculpture on an end-table.

"I'm not sure what would be to your liking," Nester said, opening the metal door to his refrigerator. "I have a good mushroom salad, if you'd like to try it. I made it myself."

Sophia walked over to Nester's kitchen alcove and watched him pull a golden bowl of mushroom slices from his frigid metal box. He set them on the counter for her inspection.

Pulling her strange tablet out of her pocket, Sophia grabbed a slice of mushroom and set it on the device's small screen.

"What is that thing?" Nester asked, remembering it from the previous night at the Lounge.

"It's a scanning device. It analyzes the chemical makeup of food, and determines if it's safe for my consumption."

"What does it say about my salad?" Nester asked.

Looking at the readout on the device, Sophia replied, "I think we'd better find something else for me to eat."

"Mushrooms are poisonous to you?"

"Some mushrooms are," Sophia replied. "These ones would send me to an early grave."

"You are such a peculiar creature," Nester mentioned. "I'm surprised Grior isn't more interested in your physiology. I imagine as a doctor he'd be positively spellbound by the scientific discoveries he could uncover.

"I understand that there aren't any mammals on your world," Sophia said. "That being the case, I truly am unlike anything living on your planet."

"A mammal? Is that your species?" Nester asked.

"My class of species, anyway. Just as you and a common snake are both reptiles, I and other lesser creatures on my planet share a similar classification. My particular species is human. I think I might have mentioned that before."

"And you humans have distinct genders, as do Leshers?"

"We do," Sophia said, looking at a peculiar wood sculpture sitting on the kitchen counter. It was a snake with five heads, all converging at the base, which became the round bottom of a pillar.

"And you are female, the egg layer of your kind?" Nester mentioned, his head back in the refrigerator, seeking food for his guest.

Sophia chuckled a little. "Humans don't lay eggs. We carry the fertilized embryos inside us until they reach maturity."

"Fascinating," Nester said. "I could never have imagined it."

"I'm afraid I have you at a disadvantage," Sophia commented. "On Earth, we have many reptilian species. None intelligent or sophisticated as you Leshers, but we still have primitive examples which we can review for basic biological comparisons."

Pulling a round object from the refrigerator, Nester set it on the counter for Sophia's perusal. "We call it Gahgoo. It's a healthy fruit," he said.

Scraping a little of the rind off of the green orb with her finger, Sophia found the skin quite thin, and underneath it an orange colored flesh was revealed. Setting the skin and a little pulp on her scanner, she found that it was safe to eat, and began peeling it.

"We usually eat the skin," Nester said, taking a second fruit from the fridge and biting it. His jagged, reptilian teeth sliced the fruit and sent out a mist of juice.

Taking a bite of the skinned fruit, Sophia cringed. The sour fruit was strong, with a hint of bitter. It tasted very similar to a lime. Edible, but not pleasant as a stand-alone meal.

There was little else in the way of food in Nester's refrigerator or pantry cabinets. He wasn't a hoarder when it came to food, buying only what he needed for a few days, thereby getting the freshest possible meals.

The late morning passed into late afternoon, as Sophia and Nester conversed about such minor things concerning their individual cultures.

Art was something that both had some interest in. Nester was a hobbyist sculptor, who took pleasure in carving wood and shaping clay to form the various patterns and creatures that adorned the tables and shelves of his small home.

"So, if these sculptures are what you do in your spare time, what is your profession?" Sophia asked, studying a wooden orb with raised portions depicting the continents of his world.

"I do many things," Nester replied, rotating his stiff shoulder blades. "Whatever pays the bills, and keeps me fed. Right now I’m a typesetter for a local tabloid."

"But you wish to be a professional artist?"

"No, it's just a hobby. I doubt I'd enjoy it half as much if there was money involved. What I'd really like to be is a novelist, but I'm afraid my viewpoints seep out onto the pages, and they're a little too overbearing for the Hierarchy's censors."