Holly told me, Ferry's wound might weaken his sword arm permanently. Such disability would remove him from active duty.Ferry was on light duty with hi... arm injury, but he was honest and told me he was bored and asked to ride with us. As I planned to spend a few hours making replacement ammunition for the railgun I agreed. Making the small iron balls was easy. The shape of wrought iron really didn't matter as much the size of the beads. I let Ferry hang around as I worked and together we talked. "First of all" I started "what is it that we do?" "We control emotions, when we touch people" she stated like it was the most simple thing in the world. The statement itself was enough to drop my jaw to the ground though, that wasn't possible."What like magic?" I asked with a hint of sarcasm, it was ridiculous. "We're not completely sure, we think it's more chemical you know, like that it's passed through our skin to others when we touch them, though it works through clothes too" again she. My interest was very much on Scarlet and helping her to get rid of the last traces of oil from her scalp. On the basis that many hands make light work, we all pitched in at various times with washing each other. No-one objected if a stray finger slid in somewhere that it didn’t really need to or something got squeezed with no discernible purpose. Eventually, we were all sitting in the staff room, in fluffy white robes, looking as if nothing untoward had happened. Except that Scarlet wasn’t. This story really begins about 3 months ago. I was made junior partner in the firm. As such my role within the firm changed a little. In addition to assignment of the more difficult cases, I was also appointed the task of mentor to the new blood of the firm. Eastside accepted 3 new recruits this year. All from Ivy League schools and all bright and determined.I was particularly impressed by one of the three. A 23-year-old African American called Tyson, who had worked his way out of the ghetto.