Writhing on the floor of the spare room was an enormous blue bird creature, flailing like a fugitive goldfish. He was gasping desperately and ineffectively, growing weaker by the second. Iris knew this problem all too well.

He can’t breathe properly. The asphyxiating alien’s neck muscles tightened sharply with his growing convulsions. His eyes glazed over as he tried to focus on Iris, and tears leaked weakly down the dark trenches of his face.

“Halp. Pleece. Halp… mee…” he choked.

Iris’s eyes boggled at the sight of him struggling for air. I have to do something. He could die. She grimaced and tried to sidle closer to the flailing creature but feared evisceration from his violently spasming toe talons and claws on both hands. Her body screamed in high key for Iris not to get any closer. She ignored the trembling of her arms and legs, the beads of cold sweat stinging her eyes, and the sudden dryness of her mouth.

The crest of blue-black feathers on his head drooped hopelessly. Iris closed the distance between them, just in time to catch his head loll backwards in her wispy embrace. She felt a sudden heaviness, as his body went limp and slack. Oh no. No. Come on. Please... She laid him gently against the crushed pile of the Berber carpeting and wasn't sure what else to do.

Remembering her new hire emergency training from three years ago, Iris knelt beside the collapsed titan and offered breaths. She wasn't certain that compressions would be effective or helpful here, so she stuck with what she knew. This poor beast needed air at least and that was something she had to give.

Iris tried, repeatedly, to keep this creature alive. His lips were parched and salty, but unexpectedly soft. She felt a barbed, stinging warmth to them, and noticed that her own were feeling numb and raw.

Unknown to her, this creature had just one last hope of surviving. Iris jerked upright and backwards from the sudden gnash of pain on her lip. She felt with her hand that the chafed flesh was broken in a half-inch-long vertical slit on the lower-right side. What was that? He wasn't moving. D-did I just get bitten?

She watched him with a focused, clinical expression, checking for any signs of life. The wall clock hands twitched for an eternity to break the heavy silence...

At last! A sudden gale whooshed as the vacuum within him expanded to greedily accept fresh air. His eyelids struggled to lift, revealing a clear nictitating membrane over each of his beastly, aloe green eyes. Retracting these, he fixed his gaze on Iris.

Iris was cradling his head upright to get a better look at him. It isn't possible. You're a dream, a phantom. Something I conjured up from nowhere. How are you here? He swallowed hard and winced with a clenched jaw. Without thinking, Iris brushed the soft down feathers back along the grain of his cheek with her thumb. She pulled her hand back to reveal the dark blood from a scuffed gash on his face, hidden underneath the down.

To this, the creature huffed and snorted, and began wriggling to try and right himself vertically. His wings pressed haphazardly into the shelving units behind him, spilling art supplies and tools on the floor. A heavy box of painting supplies crashed onto his left wing, eliciting a pained cry.

The creature jittered and started at the clanging of falling implements. Iris managed to catch a tumbling watercolor tin before it hit him on the head. This brought them close enough to hear each other's ragged breathing. His feathers puffed with a shudder, making him look slightly larger than he was.

He is afraid. Well, so am I, mister.

Iris backed away while keeping eye contact. She held the brushed aluminum watercolor tin palm-side-out to show him what it was. With a slow, fluid gesture, Iris set the tin down on the ground near his feet. The creature went back and forth between staring at Iris and the tin. He lifted one of the flexible toes on his left foot and poked the tin with a vicious black talon. Seeing that it was harmless, the creature turned again to Iris. His stare had an unsettling, predatory intensity.

“Hey there, buddy. Are you okay?” Iris asked. She had tried to force herself to look friendly, or at least less terrified. “You breathing okay now?” Her brows tented with concern, and the creature echoed her expression.

She wasn't sure if he could understand her, but then again, he did speak earlier. I should keep trying... Hmm. He's still shaking. And I should get that cut treated... She steadied herself to stand, only to find her arm clasped tightly by the lightning-fast grapple of the alien creature. His grip was firm, and his claws poised to latch inward, but Iris was unhurt. She sat back down, and peered into his desperate, searching eyes.

“Doan goh... Pleece...” he begged. “Doan leeve...”

“It's okay. I won't leave you... How about this? C-can you stand up?” Iris motioned to help him rise.

The creature struggled for strength and balance. He teetered back and forth, swaying on shaky legs. Iris offered her arm to steady him and discovered that his leaning body weight was much heavier than she predicted. She nearly pitched forward but caught herself and her guest with a jerking motion.

Iris and her new visitor limped out of the spare room and into the bedroom. It was the only place he could comfortably stretch out in and was also closest to where they were. Her soft, elevated mattress was foreign to this creature, judging by his quizzical expression. Iris sat at the foot of the bed to show him it was all right.

“It's safe, see? Come on, have a seat,” she coaxed, patting the linen duvet. “There you go. That's it. Good job.”

He locked eyes in an unblinking stare and imitated the seated position Iris sat in. Once he was comfortable, the creature fluffed and flapped his wings over the bed, checking for damage. This motion agitated the air around the room and spread the scent of a sandalwood diffuser stick all around them.

Iris brushed her wind-tousled locks from her face, only to find the creature reaching out to touch them. His fingers danced through each of the hairs before he lowered his arm again. Fascinating, she thought. He must not have seen hair like this before. He drew his face closer to Iris and tried to examine her. What is he doing?

He scanned her face and head, though Iris could not reason why. Seemingly satisfied with what he'd seen, the creature closed his eyes and inhaled deeply right above Iris’s head. She tensed at the sudden sound in surprise, drawing her shoulders up near her ears. The creature recognized this defensive posture and backed off. He tilted his head and pointed his chin at Iris, expectantly. Iris shook hers in turn, confused.

“I don't understand. What do you want?” she asked.

“Greet?” he replied.

She still wasn't sure what this was about, but Iris leaned forward anyway and duplicated what the creature had done. He smelled like sun-dried laundry, and something natural but inexplicably foreign that she couldn't place. This action seemed to please the creature, and he smiled at her warmly with crinkled eyes and a serrated grin.

“Well, now that that is out of the way… Do you have a name? Something I can call you by?” Iris asked.

The creature swiveled his head again and spoke some hopelessly alien word or phrase that could not possibly be repeated or transcribed. Iris was certain that she was missing whatever strange organ was needed to make that sound on her own and chuckled lightly.

“Ah, yes. I suppose we’ll need a nickname then.” She glanced around her bedroom for inspiration and eyed a stack of books lying on the nightstand of famous painters she fancied. “Well, we can’t very well call you Freida, and you don’t look like a Vermeer. Bosch seems rather mean… How about Cézanne?”

“Zayzann…” He mimicked.

“Close enough. Zayzann it is. ‘Zayne’ for short, okay?” Iris grinned.

“…for short.” Zayzann continued to mimic Iris. “Dew hue have a nayme? Some thing I can cull hue by?”

“Oh, my name is Iris. Iris Alcazar.” She was pleasantly surprised at how quickly they were able to communicate. “I am a human. I live here on Earth.”

“Hue are Iris. Hue are human. Hue leeve on Arth,” he replied, carefully. “My nayme is Zayzann. I am Paxoram. I leeve on Zhalterra.” Zayzann spoke slowly, carefully pronouncing each syllable with a steady baritone voice. It was as if he wanted to make sure that he didn’t confuse Iris further. Iris absorbed this new information patiently and praised Zayzann for his effort.

“Excellent. It’s nice to meet you, Zayzann from Zhalterra.” She reached out her hand to shake his. Zayzann flared his nostrils at the gesture, trying to figure out what she wanted. Iris took his hand in hers and squeezed. “There we are.”

Iris caught another glimpse of the wound on Zayzann’s cheek and rose to get her medical kit from the hall closet. Zayzann waited patiently, as she had promised that she wasn’t leaving. Iris returned with the kit and offered first aid to the injured Paxoram. He was hesitant to allow the hydrogen peroxide, as the smell was strange to him.

“It’s fine. This will clean out the wound. You don’t want it to get infected,” Iris insisted. Her earnest expression and soft, calm hands reassured Zayzann enough for Iris to proceed.

Zayzann winced, but allowed the peroxide, the antiseptic gel, and a bandage on his face. He rubbed at the adhesive bandage flaps, admiring the ingenuity of the plasters. Iris proved herself very capable of basic first aid, impressing him immensely.

Iris stowed the first aid kit, looked around the room and pondered to herself for a moment. Where can I put him? This is a strange place. I don’t want him to be afraid. Iris landed on a decision and voiced it aloud for Zayzann.

“I think it would be best if you take the bed tonight,” Iris offered. She got up to leave again. His brows rose in shock.

“Hue stay whiff me? Sleep here?” he pleaded. Zayzann’s x-shaped pupils constricted fearfully, and Iris couldn’t really blame him. There would be no harm in letting him stay the night here with her.

“Uh, sure, I guess. We can share, if you want.” She quirked an eyebrow. “I’ll take the right side. You can sleep here.” Iris moved a small wall of pillows down the center of the bed, blocking the pair from overlapping in the night.

Zayzann’s fluffy twinned ears drew back, and the ribbed throat patch on his neck flushed a radiant red. Iris was painfully oblivious to what this single gesture meant to a Paxoram. It was surely a cultural difference. Zayzann’s eyes dilated, and he rushed to pull Iris into a bracing hug.

“Hey now! What’s this for? Hello?” she squeaked. His grip was relentless. “Zayzann, you’re crushing me.”

At this, Zayzann released his hold on Iris and retreated. He tried to conceal his relief at her permission to stay, but it was written all over him. Zayzann practically shook with delight.