I am not a native English speaker, so pointing out my mistakes and giving me feedback on my writing is always appreciated!

"What do you mean they've literally got iron in their veins!?"

The glass clunked on the countertop, as the aliens stared at each other, four bewildered eyes meeting the two annoyed ones hanging from the antennae.

"Yeah, they do. But, Keet, try to keep up with me, that's not even the weirdest thing! Actually-"

"Actually," she interrupted, "I'm not gonna listen to anything you say until you prove humans have fucking iron in their blood. Prove it to me, Weyef!"

Weyef let out a long tired sigh and put their glass down as well. Why is it when they get drunk, it always ends up with some chaotic inerplanetary side-quest?

"Alright then, let's go to the Earth and settle this."

They slided from their chair, as Keet all but jumped. Weyef felt heavy and unsteady and so unlike their lanky frame, loosing any sense of their own shape, all the limbs stumbling over each other. They glanced at Keet, already way ahead of them down a corridor. At this point she could bounce off the walls and Weyef wouldn't be surprized. Keet, feeling the gaze, turned to face them.

"Wow, you are not driving. The last time you were this drunk we ended up stuck in a void for days," she chuckled.

"Fine, but can we do it without abduction? No need to traumatize one more sentient being for our curiosity."

"We could take those we already traumatized," Keet shrugged and smirked, waiting for response, but only got another annoyed glare. "Do you have a better idea, then?"

"Yes, honestly, any idea could be better than this. We can just disguise as humans and rob a hospital. Or pick a fight in some bar, as humans seem to do that. Anything, really, but turning traumatized humans into double-traumatized humans."

Keet hummed in response. Her pace got slower so it would be easier for Weyef to keep up.

"I hate human disguises," she mumbled finally, "they mess with my eyes. A bar fight sounds good, though."

"You become a bastard when you're drunk," Weyef teased.

"Well, you are a bastard even when you're sober," Keet fended off, as they both struggled not to burst out laughing in the dimly lit corridor of the sleeping station.

Two absolutely ordinary humans went down the street. One, tall and slender, sipped beer from a bottle lazily. The other, average in height and stiff in their bulky frame, gazed warily at others. If someone was to look closer, they would sense something was off about this couple, but to all the people on the streets they were just a couple of normal human beings, going out on a friday night.

They rolled into the bar, already tipsy, and thudded onto the bar chairs. They downed a few more drinks, as they kept arguing in hushed voices.

Matt didn't even pay much attention to them until the weird things started happening. The duo seemed to make it their goal to annoy as many people as possible. They kept searching coflict, they kept starting conversations with insults (why third of those were bad and obviously improvised 'yo mama' jokes, he couldn't understand), they kept trying to make someone stumble and spill their drinks, but did that so poorly no drinks were spilt. The people, drunken and glad the work for the week was over, waved them off or ignored them politely. Still, the atmosphere in the bar was getting rather glum with the frazzling presence of two strangers, so Matt decided to step in.

"Hello," he put on the most polite smile he could manage, "why do you keep annoying people? We are all here to have a good time, so why do you look for trouble?"

The strangers looked surprized for a second. Then they exchanged looks with each other, and the sturdier one beamed, as the lanky one just looked tired.

"We do as we please," the first one retorted. "And if you think you can bring us some trouble, why don't you try? Or are you only good in talking?"

Yeah, that was... something. Matt expected that kind of answer, but what to do now? The three of them were already a center of attention of at least half the bar. And this didn't help either, cause Matt's ability to come up with things to say dwindled with every couple of eyes staring at him.

"Why don't we go outside?" he offered.

"To fight?" the bulky one grinned, and even the tall one besides them seemed interested.

"No," Matt answered, "to talk. Just to talk. I'm sure we can settle this in a civilized manner."

The couple looked at each other again, and they seemed to have a whole minute of a meaningful conversation carried only by their expressions. Then they turned to Matt and nodded.

The cool night air hit Matt's face. But when he turned to the stangers something much heavier hit him. His nose pulsed with pain and he could feel the warmth of blood running down his lips and chin. When he finally managed to open his eyes, he could see one of the strangers still holding his hands folded into fists, and the other one, wide-eyed, standing nearby. Matt tensed as they crouched by him (since when was he on the ground?), but they only wiped the blood from his chin and started running away.

He probably should have asked for help or call the ambulance, but his mild-concussion-ridden brain decided it's crucial to know what exactly happened. So he got up and followed them.

As he got closer to the slow and clunky runaways, their words started to reach his ears. Those were some odd words.

"Was that really neccessary?" Weyef questioned in between huffs, as they retreated to the park, dark and emty and a perfect spot to hide their ship.

"Hey," Keet wheezed, "it was your idea to start a fight, so don't you dare blame me!"

"We later agreed we would provoke someone to fight, not just hit humans!"

"Well, provocations clearly didn't work! We got some blood anyway, does it matter how we did it?"

They kept bickering until they reached their ship, taking off their disguises so the ship's security system could recognise them. But the sound of leaves rustling under feet didn't stop. They turned their heads only to see the very man they attacked not so long before aproaching them. Weyef gave Keet another annoyed look. It was too late to put the disguises back on.

The man stopped and stared at them as they stared back. Then he came a bit closer.

"That's a really bad concussion," he admitted, sitting on the ground. The creatures before him looked at each other.

"That's right," the tall multilegged one said, nodding with their eyes on the tips of antenae, "we are just your hallucination."

"I don't know about you, Weyef," the four-eyed gremlin argued, "but I am very real."

The first one (Weyef was their name?) shot the other one another glare.

"We are aliens," The gremlin continued, much to Weyef's annoyance, " I'm Keet from the star system you humans call Gliese 667. Nice to meet you."

Matt stared for a while. Then he, probably, thought it would be polite to at least smile.

"What's with daddy-long-legs?" he asked, nodding to where Weyef was sill being grumpy.

"Do I look like-" the alien protested as Matt stiffled his laugh.

"No, that's not what I... Nevermind. And why do you even need my blood?"

"That's Weyef and they are annoyed their plan actually worked. We need human blood to settle an argument."

"Isn't there a better way to get blood, though?"

A jubilant look made it's way onto Weyef's face.

"Couldn't you just abduct someone while they are asleep?"

Weyf's jubilant look melted into a scowl, as Keet smirked.

"What kind of argument involves human blood anyway?"

"Keet," Weyef said, putting their limb on her head, "doesn't believe that humans have iron in their blood."

They petted Keet's head as she battered their limb away. Matt scowled. This was an idiotic argument. But he, a certified expert at being human, didn't know the answer. He failed his biology class way too many times, after all.

"We have what in our blood?!"

I'm not a native English speaker, so I'd appreciate it if anyone pointed out some mistakes and/or gave me advice on how to improve my writing.

I send yet another box flying downstairs, and get to the next one.

"Could you stop doing this?" Ada shouts all the way from the first floor.

"Does it matter, though?" I answer, "it's going to trash, anyway."

"Yeah, along with our flooring, if you keep throwing these boxes!" Her voice is more annoyed than angry, so I just apologize quickly and chuckle to myself. The oddities of owning a house.

I turn around looking for something to help me lower the boxes, because I am not spending half a day running up and down the stairs. My knees are messed up enough already. The dust is swirling in the light from a small window. Most of the attic is still pretty dark, but I spot some cables coiled on top of an old chair. Those will do. As I wade through an endless sea of boxes, stumbling and cursing, I trip and grab onto something, but it slides and falls on top of me.

I sit up and rub my left elbow. Where is the flashlight? Ah, there it is. The treacherous thing that didn't help me keep my balance is lying on my knees now. A binder, and a heavy one. I flip through the files with some board game cards in them. Well, Ada's about to regret sending me to clear up the attic. I am too curious to be productive, after all. Still, I get to the chair and grab the cables. Now set next to the window, I keep looking at all the cards. Could they be worth something? I take one to check if there's the name of a game on the other side. Nope. Just some off-white pattern on a dark blue background. I flip it. 'Lesser explosion' it says, with a picture of a few sparks underneath. I'm about to put it back when it escapes my fingers and falls to the floor.

But before I even think of picking it up, some light, weak and shortliving, is next to my feet, and something sounds like a small firecracker. I shine my torch on the floor and find the card. It's the same, not even burnt at the edges, unlike the floor underneath it. Scorch marks radiate from the card, still warm to the touch. I take the card reluctantly. What kind of sorcery was this? Ok. Open a random page, pick a random card. Garlic bread? All right, let's put it on the box right here. A plate of garlic bread spawns in front of me. Huh. I pick it up and find the garlic bread card still intact underneath.

A few hours later, we sit on the floor in our soon-to-be living room, cards sorted in a few piles around us. Ada pockets a few.

"What are we supposed to do with those?" she asks.

"Well, we could or could not save on groceries," I grin, eyeing a pile of food cards.

"Are those even safe to eat?"

I choose a watermelon one this time. Ada gets the knife. The fruit is so ripe it almost cracks under the blade, revealing red pulp with rare drops of seeds inside. It feels like a trap, but I take a bite, and soon Ada joins. It's sweet, and juice drips down our hands and forearms.

"Seems fine," she says, "hope we won't die." The flashes in her eyes say she's sure we'll be fine.

"Even if we die, it's worth it," I smile. "By the way, what are those cards you seized earlier?"

I don't mean anything by the question, but she tenses. She narrows her eyes for a moment before answering.

"Oh, just some cleaning supplies and stuff. We still have a lot to do in this wizard house," she sneers.

But something feels off.