♫ Happy Birthday Challon! ♫
You are a warm, beautiful, inspiring person. You're full of such big dreams and so much love and light. Every day you make my life better just by being part of it.
I know that you'll get to where you want to be, simply because you'll make it happen. You're too strong to just give up. I believe in you. ♥
This is an attempt at one of your Alpha's Magical Fic Exchange requests. It isn't exactly what you asked for, but I did what I could. I promise to attempt some Cassie/Ashley fluff for you next to make up for it. ^_~
Title/: Stranded
Author/: Tsukino Akume
Relationship/: Cassie/Phantom
Rating/: K+
Warnings/: self-identity issues, hints of attempted suicide
Disclaimer/: While the Power Rangers franchise and general concept are not mine, and neither are Cassie or the Phantom Ranger, I totally claim all rights to Phantom's secret identity in this story! It's mine, all mine! -Cackles-
Summary/: Crash-landed in the middle of nowhere, Phantom is forced to finally meet Cassie face-to-face - and doesn't get quite the response he'd expected.
Author's Notes/: This ... is totally not what it was supposed to be. Crap.
Well, it is what it is. And I give up. Happy Birthday Challon! ♥
"This is all your fault, you know."
Phantom sighed, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. He'd spent far too much time among the Earthians; he was assimilating their bad habits. He remained silent, letting her continue to rant. She wasn't looking for answers - she just wanted someone to blame.
He was used to blame.
"If you had just been paying attention in the first place, we wouldn't even be in this mess! I mean really, who misses the *bright pink spot* against all the stars?!"
A sleeping pilot, he thought irritably, but he refused to admit that he'd been dozing at the controls when they'd crashed into each other. If she was angry with him now, there was no telling how furious she'd be if she was aware of that.
"Are you even listening to me?" she demanded.
"Perhaps," he spoke up at last, still staring at the campfire between them as he fought to reclaim control of his irritation, "It would be best to conserve your energy for the time being, until the other Astro Rangers are able to find assistance."
She stared at him. "Did you just tell me to shut up?"
It was at times like these he actually regretted the fact that he wore a helmet. The urge to rub his temples was strong. "No, I did not. I merely suggested that you calm yourself while we wait for help to arrive."
"Sounded like 'shut up' to me," she grumbled indignantly, hugging her knees to her chest and glaring at the fire.
He closed his eyes, gritting his teeth. He did not remember her being this abrasive in their previous meetings. To be frank, she had been ... curious. Kind, anxious. Caring.
Beautiful.
Well, she was still beautiful, he admitted, glancing at her through his visor without moving his head. Breathtakingly so. He watched as she reached up to brush her hair behind her ear with a quiet sigh, still staring at the tiny fire, and had to clench his fist to keep from touching her.
But the Cassie Chan he had met on Earth and Hercuron had still been concerned for his well-being, as discerning as it had been at the time. She had pressured him to allow them to help him, despite the fact that it went against his instincts. And above all else, she had been sweet, and gentle.
The woman sitting across from him was angry, snappish, and bitter. She blamed him for what had clearly been an accident, without any care for his perspective. And she had not once bothered to ask if he was all right, despite the fact that he'd already done his best to treat the cut on her temple.
What had happened in his absence? Where had the girl he'd felt such deep affection for gone? Who was this stranger sitting across from him?
Her shoulders trembled slightly as he stared at her, and he frowned. He tapped into the environmental readings for his suit, frowning deeper as it registered how cold the air was. He stood abruptly, moving toward his ship and digging into one of the storage compartments for a thermal blanket. He retrieved it in silence, placing it around Cassie's shoulders before she could do more than start in surprise.
" ... Thanks," she murmured as he returned to his seat.
He tilted his head in acknowledgement.
The silence continued, broken only by the sounds of the planet's wildlife. He prodded at the fire absently, tossing in another piece of wood. With luck, help would arrive soon: there would not be enough wood for another fire.
"Aren't you cold?"
He glanced up, blinking. She continued to stare at him, and at last he shook his head. "No," he answered belatedly. "My armor maintains an adequate temperature. I am fine."
"'An adequate temperature'?" she repeated, raising her eyebrows skeptically. "So ... you're not gonna freeze to death. Good to know, but that's not exactly what I asked."
He sighed internally. "I am not comfortable, but I will be fine," he told her finally.
She hesitated, biting her lip in a strangely adorable gesture. "Well ... we can always share the blanket," she offered at last.
He smiled faintly despite himself, knowing she wouldn't see it. "Thank you. But that's unnecessary."
She frowned at him, somehow managing to look annoyed even huddled under the blanket as she was. "It's not unnecessary if you're cold," she argued.
He shook his head. "The blanket would not be big enough for the both of us with myself ... as I am," he explained gently.
"So why don't you demorph?"
He froze.
She bit her lip again, frowning a little. "I'm not trying to ... pressure you into anything," she said quietly. "But it seems silly for you to sit over there when we could be helping each other stay warm. I won't tell anyone who you are," she added, sounding faintly hurt.
He closed his eyes, struggling with the urge to leave, to get as far away from her as possible. Even if there *had* been somewhere for him to go - and there wasn't, the only thing on this planet was a great deal of rock and long-abandoned mining colony miles away from where they'd crashed - he couldn't leave her here alone. He at least had landed in his ship; she had only her morpher and Galaxy Glider. Even to go ... elsewhere, just to avoid her questions, would be abandoning her and the possibility of rescue.
He was unsurprised to find which thought bothered him more.
"It is ... not an issue of trust, Cassie," he said slowly. "That has never been my concern."
She looked faintly surprised before her brow furrowed again. "If it's not because you trust me, then ... " She hesitated. "Do you ... not have a form to demorph to?"
He stared blankly for a moment before his eyes widened in understanding. "No!" he protested quickly. "I - I am not a cybernetic. That is to say, I am organic."
"Organic?" she echoed, looking even more confused. "So you're not human?"
He should have told her he was cybernetic, he groaned silently. It would have ended this debate before it even started. "I am ... humanoid," he acquiesced reluctantly. "Not specifically human in the manner of Earthians and Kerovians, but the differences between us are ... minor."
For a long moment she stared at him. "Are you shy or something?"
His brow furrowed in confusion. "Shy?" he repeated.
"You're hesitating." She studied him, tilting her head as though trying to understand some strange sort of puzzle. Which to her, he supposed he was. "Why are you afraid?"
He stiffened, insulted. "I am not afraid!" he snapped. "I have suffered and survived more than you could *possibly* imagine! Fear," he spat the word, "Is an emotion I have long abandoned."
She folded her arms, staring up at him calmly. "If you're not afraid, then why won't you demorph?" she countered.
"My true identity is none of your business," he snarled, glaring down at her.
She surged to her feet in an instant, the blanket dropping from her shoulders as she marched forward to stand directly in front of him.
The next thing he was aware of, he was staring at his ship.
"How dare you!" she shouted furiously, as he tried to understand why his body continued to face her, yet his helmet remained toward the right. His ears seemed to be ringing. Had she hit him?
"None of my business? How can you honestly say that?! You *know* exactly how I feel about you! You always have! And if you don't then - then you're an idiot and I don't even know why I even liked you in the first place!"
There was a long moment of silence.
"Ow," she mumbled finally, looking down at her hand.
He closed his eyes with a quite sigh. After a moment to gather himself, he moved to the ship, this time retrieving the first aid kit. He took her hand gently, inspecting it for damage. The skin of her palm was beginning to redden, but nothing was broken. He tied a cooling pad to her hand anyway, securing it in place with a bandage.
He could feel her eyes on him. "You are wrong," he said at last, his voice quiet. He knew his words would make her angry again, but they needed to be said.
" ... About what?"
"The man that you believe you care for ... he is not me." He swallowed down his own feelings, knowing they would be of no use to him now. "The one you have feelings for is someone who does not exist. The person that *I* am ... is someone you do not know."
"And who's fault is that?"
He glanced up into her angry stare. "I'm not the one who keeps running away!" She shook her head before he could say anything, holding up her free hand. "On Hercuron, you left me a message that I'd see you soon. What happened to that? Why haven't I seen you in over a year?!"
The pain in her eyes hurt more than her words.
"That was ... a mistake, on my part," he admitted reluctantly. "I should not have said such things."
"Don't make me hit you again," she warned.
He sighed, closing his eyes. "Cassie ... I am not who you think I am."
"You don't even know who I think you are," she snapped back.
His fists clenched and he was standing before he could stop himself. The words came out in an angry hiss, his arms crossing his chest and snapping down to his sides stiffly in the gesture he rarely used. "Power Down!"
There was a flash of red light, and he found himself staring at her, face to face, for the first time. Her eyes went wide, and the corner of his mouth twitched faintly. No more than he'd expected.
He held his arms open wide, allowing her to take in all of him. His scarred body, weak and pale, his haunted eyes. His hair-band had snapped days ago and he hadn't bothered to replace it yet, leaving his tainted hair hanging around his face in scraggly strands. The disgusting shape of what he was, what he had hidden from her all along. He showed her all of it, hideous and battle-weary, and awaited her judgment.
"This," he told her, his voice low and bitter, "Is what I am. *This* is what you believe yourself in love with."
Her silence lasted for so long he found himself preparing to turn away, to leave her in peace even if it cost him the chance of rescue, because he couldn't continue to stand there in the face of her condemnation. He had known she would hate him once she knew the truth; that was nothing he had not prepared himself against. It was the blasted *silence* he couldn't stand. He'd expected anger, shouting, perhaps even for her to hit him once again. He waited for the words he'd always expected her to say.
"You're a *girl*?!"
But they never came.
Her wide-eyed stare turned into something else ... something he wasn't sure he could identify. Contemplative, perhaps. Thoughtful. She continued to stare, but not with shock as she had at first.
Just as he found himself stepping back, starting to turn on his foot to walk away, she stepped forward in return. Her hand came up slowly, cautiously, reaching out towards him. He stared in confusion, caught by the intensity in her stare and her careful movements. She stepped closer, her hand trailing along his cheek, just barely brushing skin. Fingers trailed lightly across his lips, up his other cheek and along his eyebrows, pausing to trace one of the scars along his face.
He remained frozen, too uncertain as to what she was doing to move. It wasn't an uncomfortable experience, despite his dislike of finding others in his personal space. There was something about the way she moved, slowly, hesitantly, as if judging his reaction before she attempted it. Something ... tender. Almost intimate.
He was trembling, he realized distantly. It had been so long since anyone had touched him. So long since he'd had anyone this close to him outside of battle. It was almost frightening.
But he couldn't bring himself to make her stop, anymore than he could control his own reaction.
Her hands continued their journey, trailing along his arms, wrists, and hands. A pinched look came over her face as she saw the long scars running up the inside of each wrist, but she remained silent. Instead she paused, squeezing his hands briefly with a deep sadness in her eyes.
For the first time since the scars had been made, he found himself wanting to apologize.
Her hands brushed lightly over his hips and along his stomach. They traced the long scar across his abdomen, pausing just as they had on his wrists. From there they worked their way up once again, along the curves of his sides, his arms, and finally trailing through his long hair.
He flinched at that, closing his eyes in pain. He felt her pause, but her hands remained where they were. Part of him wanted to pull away, to insist that she stop this. She didn't, *couldn't* know, what the colors of his hair signified. How wrong it was. How wrong *he* was.
And then her hand cupped his cheek.
"You're beautiful."
His eyes snapped open, staring at her in shock. "I ... what?" he choked.
Her gaze remained solemn, meeting his eyes directly. "You're beautiful," she repeated softly.
It wasn't until her other hand came up to hold his head still that he was even aware he'd been shaking it in denial. "No," he whispered, closing his eyes against the sudden burn of tears. "No. I - you're wrong. You don't know - "
"Phantom." Her voice was gentle, insistent. "Anyone who can fight as hard as you do, who's survived as much as you ... " Her voice caught slightly before continuing. "Survived as much as you obviously have, who's helped so many people ... is someone worth knowing. That's someone *I* want to know."
He choked on a sob. "I am a criminal! I have - things I've done - "
Lips brushed the corner of his eye, kissing away tears he hadn't even realized were there. "Nothing you can tell me would change what I already know."
He forced his eyes open at that, pushing back his grief. "You don't know me," he whispered. "You don't know me at all."
She stared back, her eyes narrowing briefly. Then she took a step back, offering her right hand. "Then maybe we should change that, don't you think?"
She smiled when he continued to stare. "Hi. I'm Cassie Chan of Earth."
He closed his eyes, swallowing hard.
"I ... I am Ko-lin, of Yu-tari," she said at last, bending to kiss the back of the other woman's hand. "It is an honor, and a pleasure to meet you, Cassie Chan of Earth."
I know that you'll get to where you want to be, simply because you'll make it happen. You're too strong to just give up. I believe in you. ♥
This is an attempt at one of your Alpha's Magical Fic Exchange requests. It isn't exactly what you asked for, but I did what I could. I promise to attempt some Cassie/Ashley fluff for you next to make up for it. ^_~
Title/: Stranded
Author/: Tsukino Akume
Relationship/: Cassie/Phantom
Rating/: K+
Warnings/: self-identity issues, hints of attempted suicide
Disclaimer/: While the Power Rangers franchise and general concept are not mine, and neither are Cassie or the Phantom Ranger, I totally claim all rights to Phantom's secret identity in this story! It's mine, all mine! -Cackles-
Summary/: Crash-landed in the middle of nowhere, Phantom is forced to finally meet Cassie face-to-face - and doesn't get quite the response he'd expected.
Author's Notes/: This ... is totally not what it was supposed to be. Crap.
Well, it is what it is. And I give up. Happy Birthday Challon! ♥
"This is all your fault, you know."
Phantom sighed, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. He'd spent far too much time among the Earthians; he was assimilating their bad habits. He remained silent, letting her continue to rant. She wasn't looking for answers - she just wanted someone to blame.
He was used to blame.
"If you had just been paying attention in the first place, we wouldn't even be in this mess! I mean really, who misses the *bright pink spot* against all the stars?!"
A sleeping pilot, he thought irritably, but he refused to admit that he'd been dozing at the controls when they'd crashed into each other. If she was angry with him now, there was no telling how furious she'd be if she was aware of that.
"Are you even listening to me?" she demanded.
"Perhaps," he spoke up at last, still staring at the campfire between them as he fought to reclaim control of his irritation, "It would be best to conserve your energy for the time being, until the other Astro Rangers are able to find assistance."
She stared at him. "Did you just tell me to shut up?"
It was at times like these he actually regretted the fact that he wore a helmet. The urge to rub his temples was strong. "No, I did not. I merely suggested that you calm yourself while we wait for help to arrive."
"Sounded like 'shut up' to me," she grumbled indignantly, hugging her knees to her chest and glaring at the fire.
He closed his eyes, gritting his teeth. He did not remember her being this abrasive in their previous meetings. To be frank, she had been ... curious. Kind, anxious. Caring.
Beautiful.
Well, she was still beautiful, he admitted, glancing at her through his visor without moving his head. Breathtakingly so. He watched as she reached up to brush her hair behind her ear with a quiet sigh, still staring at the tiny fire, and had to clench his fist to keep from touching her.
But the Cassie Chan he had met on Earth and Hercuron had still been concerned for his well-being, as discerning as it had been at the time. She had pressured him to allow them to help him, despite the fact that it went against his instincts. And above all else, she had been sweet, and gentle.
The woman sitting across from him was angry, snappish, and bitter. She blamed him for what had clearly been an accident, without any care for his perspective. And she had not once bothered to ask if he was all right, despite the fact that he'd already done his best to treat the cut on her temple.
What had happened in his absence? Where had the girl he'd felt such deep affection for gone? Who was this stranger sitting across from him?
Her shoulders trembled slightly as he stared at her, and he frowned. He tapped into the environmental readings for his suit, frowning deeper as it registered how cold the air was. He stood abruptly, moving toward his ship and digging into one of the storage compartments for a thermal blanket. He retrieved it in silence, placing it around Cassie's shoulders before she could do more than start in surprise.
" ... Thanks," she murmured as he returned to his seat.
He tilted his head in acknowledgement.
The silence continued, broken only by the sounds of the planet's wildlife. He prodded at the fire absently, tossing in another piece of wood. With luck, help would arrive soon: there would not be enough wood for another fire.
"Aren't you cold?"
He glanced up, blinking. She continued to stare at him, and at last he shook his head. "No," he answered belatedly. "My armor maintains an adequate temperature. I am fine."
"'An adequate temperature'?" she repeated, raising her eyebrows skeptically. "So ... you're not gonna freeze to death. Good to know, but that's not exactly what I asked."
He sighed internally. "I am not comfortable, but I will be fine," he told her finally.
She hesitated, biting her lip in a strangely adorable gesture. "Well ... we can always share the blanket," she offered at last.
He smiled faintly despite himself, knowing she wouldn't see it. "Thank you. But that's unnecessary."
She frowned at him, somehow managing to look annoyed even huddled under the blanket as she was. "It's not unnecessary if you're cold," she argued.
He shook his head. "The blanket would not be big enough for the both of us with myself ... as I am," he explained gently.
"So why don't you demorph?"
He froze.
She bit her lip again, frowning a little. "I'm not trying to ... pressure you into anything," she said quietly. "But it seems silly for you to sit over there when we could be helping each other stay warm. I won't tell anyone who you are," she added, sounding faintly hurt.
He closed his eyes, struggling with the urge to leave, to get as far away from her as possible. Even if there *had* been somewhere for him to go - and there wasn't, the only thing on this planet was a great deal of rock and long-abandoned mining colony miles away from where they'd crashed - he couldn't leave her here alone. He at least had landed in his ship; she had only her morpher and Galaxy Glider. Even to go ... elsewhere, just to avoid her questions, would be abandoning her and the possibility of rescue.
He was unsurprised to find which thought bothered him more.
"It is ... not an issue of trust, Cassie," he said slowly. "That has never been my concern."
She looked faintly surprised before her brow furrowed again. "If it's not because you trust me, then ... " She hesitated. "Do you ... not have a form to demorph to?"
He stared blankly for a moment before his eyes widened in understanding. "No!" he protested quickly. "I - I am not a cybernetic. That is to say, I am organic."
"Organic?" she echoed, looking even more confused. "So you're not human?"
He should have told her he was cybernetic, he groaned silently. It would have ended this debate before it even started. "I am ... humanoid," he acquiesced reluctantly. "Not specifically human in the manner of Earthians and Kerovians, but the differences between us are ... minor."
For a long moment she stared at him. "Are you shy or something?"
His brow furrowed in confusion. "Shy?" he repeated.
"You're hesitating." She studied him, tilting her head as though trying to understand some strange sort of puzzle. Which to her, he supposed he was. "Why are you afraid?"
He stiffened, insulted. "I am not afraid!" he snapped. "I have suffered and survived more than you could *possibly* imagine! Fear," he spat the word, "Is an emotion I have long abandoned."
She folded her arms, staring up at him calmly. "If you're not afraid, then why won't you demorph?" she countered.
"My true identity is none of your business," he snarled, glaring down at her.
She surged to her feet in an instant, the blanket dropping from her shoulders as she marched forward to stand directly in front of him.
The next thing he was aware of, he was staring at his ship.
"How dare you!" she shouted furiously, as he tried to understand why his body continued to face her, yet his helmet remained toward the right. His ears seemed to be ringing. Had she hit him?
"None of my business? How can you honestly say that?! You *know* exactly how I feel about you! You always have! And if you don't then - then you're an idiot and I don't even know why I even liked you in the first place!"
There was a long moment of silence.
"Ow," she mumbled finally, looking down at her hand.
He closed his eyes with a quite sigh. After a moment to gather himself, he moved to the ship, this time retrieving the first aid kit. He took her hand gently, inspecting it for damage. The skin of her palm was beginning to redden, but nothing was broken. He tied a cooling pad to her hand anyway, securing it in place with a bandage.
He could feel her eyes on him. "You are wrong," he said at last, his voice quiet. He knew his words would make her angry again, but they needed to be said.
" ... About what?"
"The man that you believe you care for ... he is not me." He swallowed down his own feelings, knowing they would be of no use to him now. "The one you have feelings for is someone who does not exist. The person that *I* am ... is someone you do not know."
"And who's fault is that?"
He glanced up into her angry stare. "I'm not the one who keeps running away!" She shook her head before he could say anything, holding up her free hand. "On Hercuron, you left me a message that I'd see you soon. What happened to that? Why haven't I seen you in over a year?!"
The pain in her eyes hurt more than her words.
"That was ... a mistake, on my part," he admitted reluctantly. "I should not have said such things."
"Don't make me hit you again," she warned.
He sighed, closing his eyes. "Cassie ... I am not who you think I am."
"You don't even know who I think you are," she snapped back.
His fists clenched and he was standing before he could stop himself. The words came out in an angry hiss, his arms crossing his chest and snapping down to his sides stiffly in the gesture he rarely used. "Power Down!"
There was a flash of red light, and he found himself staring at her, face to face, for the first time. Her eyes went wide, and the corner of his mouth twitched faintly. No more than he'd expected.
He held his arms open wide, allowing her to take in all of him. His scarred body, weak and pale, his haunted eyes. His hair-band had snapped days ago and he hadn't bothered to replace it yet, leaving his tainted hair hanging around his face in scraggly strands. The disgusting shape of what he was, what he had hidden from her all along. He showed her all of it, hideous and battle-weary, and awaited her judgment.
"This," he told her, his voice low and bitter, "Is what I am. *This* is what you believe yourself in love with."
Her silence lasted for so long he found himself preparing to turn away, to leave her in peace even if it cost him the chance of rescue, because he couldn't continue to stand there in the face of her condemnation. He had known she would hate him once she knew the truth; that was nothing he had not prepared himself against. It was the blasted *silence* he couldn't stand. He'd expected anger, shouting, perhaps even for her to hit him once again. He waited for the words he'd always expected her to say.
"You're a *girl*?!"
But they never came.
Her wide-eyed stare turned into something else ... something he wasn't sure he could identify. Contemplative, perhaps. Thoughtful. She continued to stare, but not with shock as she had at first.
Just as he found himself stepping back, starting to turn on his foot to walk away, she stepped forward in return. Her hand came up slowly, cautiously, reaching out towards him. He stared in confusion, caught by the intensity in her stare and her careful movements. She stepped closer, her hand trailing along his cheek, just barely brushing skin. Fingers trailed lightly across his lips, up his other cheek and along his eyebrows, pausing to trace one of the scars along his face.
He remained frozen, too uncertain as to what she was doing to move. It wasn't an uncomfortable experience, despite his dislike of finding others in his personal space. There was something about the way she moved, slowly, hesitantly, as if judging his reaction before she attempted it. Something ... tender. Almost intimate.
He was trembling, he realized distantly. It had been so long since anyone had touched him. So long since he'd had anyone this close to him outside of battle. It was almost frightening.
But he couldn't bring himself to make her stop, anymore than he could control his own reaction.
Her hands continued their journey, trailing along his arms, wrists, and hands. A pinched look came over her face as she saw the long scars running up the inside of each wrist, but she remained silent. Instead she paused, squeezing his hands briefly with a deep sadness in her eyes.
For the first time since the scars had been made, he found himself wanting to apologize.
Her hands brushed lightly over his hips and along his stomach. They traced the long scar across his abdomen, pausing just as they had on his wrists. From there they worked their way up once again, along the curves of his sides, his arms, and finally trailing through his long hair.
He flinched at that, closing his eyes in pain. He felt her pause, but her hands remained where they were. Part of him wanted to pull away, to insist that she stop this. She didn't, *couldn't* know, what the colors of his hair signified. How wrong it was. How wrong *he* was.
And then her hand cupped his cheek.
"You're beautiful."
His eyes snapped open, staring at her in shock. "I ... what?" he choked.
Her gaze remained solemn, meeting his eyes directly. "You're beautiful," she repeated softly.
It wasn't until her other hand came up to hold his head still that he was even aware he'd been shaking it in denial. "No," he whispered, closing his eyes against the sudden burn of tears. "No. I - you're wrong. You don't know - "
"Phantom." Her voice was gentle, insistent. "Anyone who can fight as hard as you do, who's survived as much as you ... " Her voice caught slightly before continuing. "Survived as much as you obviously have, who's helped so many people ... is someone worth knowing. That's someone *I* want to know."
He choked on a sob. "I am a criminal! I have - things I've done - "
Lips brushed the corner of his eye, kissing away tears he hadn't even realized were there. "Nothing you can tell me would change what I already know."
He forced his eyes open at that, pushing back his grief. "You don't know me," he whispered. "You don't know me at all."
She stared back, her eyes narrowing briefly. Then she took a step back, offering her right hand. "Then maybe we should change that, don't you think?"
She smiled when he continued to stare. "Hi. I'm Cassie Chan of Earth."
He closed his eyes, swallowing hard.
"I ... I am Ko-lin, of Yu-tari," she said at last, bending to kiss the back of the other woman's hand. "It is an honor, and a pleasure to meet you, Cassie Chan of Earth."