In the light of early evening many of the shops lining the market of Primp Town were winding down. The ebbing flow of customers provided a great time to tidy, take inventory or do whatever else needed doing. It wasn't yet time for those who did business after dusk to open up shop: those consisted primarily of restaurants. Primp wasn't exactly known for its vibrant nightlife...not that it particularly mattered to students.

"I told you already, it's not a problem!" This was the third time Klug had been forced to repeat himself. It had lost its novelty the second time. Now, it was just irritating. Under different circumstances he'd have been more than happy to part ways with the bi-chromatic parrot he was currently dragging by the wrist.

The way things were going, Klug was either going to help him or kill him. Both options were on the table.

"But-" The blue-haired boy tried to interject again.

"Sig. Please. Stop. Asking."

The drag-ee sighed and finally gave up, resigning himself to being pulled down the lane by his free hand; the left was saddled with carrying the library overflow. The weight in his odd arm was negligible but keeping the four books together wasn't as easy a task.

...

Great. Wonderful. Now the silence was getting on Klug's nerves.

There had to be a light topic he could bring up. Something that was in no way related to what had transpired earlier. He didn't need Sig upset, nor was it the time to sort through his own feelings. Unpacking those had to wait.

His empty stomach offered the perfect suggestion. It was the first time in his life that he welcomed the irritable grumblings of hunger pangs. When was the last time he'd eaten?..

Head turned slightly toward his hesitant charge, Klug piped up "hey, Sig, you're probably hungry, right?"

"Eh?.. sort of." It was the kind of non-answer Sig was notorious for. No help whatsoever.

"Well, what do you usually eat? I can't guarantee anything, but I'll try to accommodate you."

"Doesn't matter. Kinda wanted a melon bun. Place is closed though."

Well maybe if you'd been a little less clingy it'd still be ope- no. Klug quashed the vicious little thought. There was still so much he had to do and silently stewing wouldn't help. He coughed, as much to clear his throat as to expel the frustration.

"It's not the same thing, but I do have muffins available." The bespectacled-one gestured, one part nonchalance, another part smug. "Would that suffice?"

The cyan tufts perked up even before their owner could form a smile. It was all the answer he needed to give.

It was an unassuming little house; two floors, the odd decorative shrub and a half-cladding in brickwork. Not a mansion, but a perfectly reasonable piece of architecture.

The inside, by contrast, was very traditional. It was almost oppressive, a perfect setting for a cheap murder mystery. Only one piece stood out among the wood everything: a comfortable-looking plush sofa set before a stout-legged coffee table.

There was a low 'thud' as Klug's satchel was deposited atop the hard surface. Two louder 'thuds' followed the first. It was such a relief to be free of that weight.

The academic collapsed gratefully into the soft comfort of the sofa, idly waving in his companion's general direction. "There's no point in standing around. Take a break. You did carry most of those books. Aren't you tired?"

Sig obeyed, but shook his head at the question. He idly ran his right hand along the fabric. It felt just as soft as it looked. "Wasn't a big deal. Your house is closer than mine."

Inexplicably, Klug sat back and just... watched. There was a meditative quality in the somnolist's motions. Peaceful, even. Was the sofa really that interesting?..

A sudden realization descended upon him. He was at home. It was here. He leant forward, massaging his temples as he groaned. He was just not in the mood to deal with that right now. If he tarried for too long...

"Sig, just wait here, alright? There's something I need to take care of." he pulled his satchel into his lap, rooting around with deliberate intent. There it was. Disdainfully, he lifted out a weathered paperback and held it to his chest, desperate to obscure the title. "I'll be right back."

"'Kay. Have fun?"

None of this had anything to do with fun. The bibliophile mumbled, "yeah, sure," under his breath as he left the cushy haven of the living room for the upstairs. Specifically, his own room. Despite being a bit worn down, he ascended the stairs with a brisk familiarity.

Klug paused before the ominously closed door, a long-winded sigh passing his lips. Please, please be in a good mood. Gripping and turning the knob as if it led to his own execution, he entered and pushed the door back closed in one swift movement.

Atop his immaculately kept desk sat a familiar volume, opened to no page in specific. Rising from the binding was one very small, very angry-looking red spirit. Wonderful, he mused, he looks spikier than usual.

"Explain yourself!" The tiny demonic entity wailed, waving its itty-bitty arms frantically, "why are you so late?! I've been bored! BORED! Why didn't you take me with you?!"

Taking a moment to adjust his glasses and discard his hat, the academic sighed, "I thought we both agreed that it was the best option? You hate being in confined spaces with other books. Bad memories, you said?"

"... Oh. Yeah, I did say that, didn't I?" Its angry eyes slits rounded back out to 'normal' as it cackled, "eh, being trapped in a book for at least a few centuries does things to the memory. Y' know?"

"I do not know, nor do I want to. A few hours was enough for one lifetime." Klug crossed his arms defiantly, not wanting to think about 'the incident' right now. He held the ratty-looking novel just out of the crimson dramatist's reach. "I believe this was part of today's agreement?"

The spirit's eyes seemed to light up as it tried to snatch the book away. Stymied, it started to complain, "Keeeluuug, c'mon and hand it over! Gimmie!"

Green eyes glinting, Klug's smile was perhaps a bit too wide. Softly, he spoke, "I want to add a further condition. I have a guest over and far too much work to do. I don't wish to be disturbed by you. I trust you'll behave?"

"Extortionist! You can't just add new terms whenever you feel like i-... y' know what? Fine. Just give me that book." Defeated, the spectre flopped over approximately where its waist would be.

"Uhyahyahyahya! Wonderful, wonderful! Here, take it, take it!" Trying to keep his victory peal to a dull roar, the celestial mage passed the beaten-up missive to the annoyed little spirit. "Although I do have to ask, what is it about cheap romance novels you find so interesting? The summary sounds dreadful."

'Blinking', the red entity shrugged, clutching the book to its 'body', "it's not romance, idiot, it's comedy. It's so satisfying when the whole 'love' thing inevitably falls apart and everyone's miserable. Unrequited feelings are good, too! Ever read Wuthering Heights? It's gold!"

"I-is that so... well, have fun with that." Maybe asking hadn't been the greatest idea. If the novel kept the little red pest from screaming at him all evening, well, it was harmless enough.

One thing down, a half dozen or so to go.

Time management wasn't normally much of a problem for Klug. Ever diligent, he'd gladly forego unnecessary luxuries such as sleep or food for the sake of project completion. Having another party involved made matters... difficult. The particular nature of this party further complicated things. It would be a challenge, but challenges existed to be conquered. Right?

Next on the agenda; food. At least that was simple. Day-old muffins weren't exactly gourmet but the prospect certainly piqued Sig's interest on the way home. Honestly, the odd boy would probably be content with just about anything. That easygoing nature would almost make him envious if it wasn't so frustrating. What do you do with someone who claims to like pretty much everything?

It was absolutely no surprise that Sig had fallen asleep on the plush sofa. Klug would've been more shocked to find his classmate awake instead. As the young mage turned to address the consumables situation, there was one oddity that caught his eye. Strewn about the coffee table were loose stacks of books and the odd paper. Apparently Sig had at least tried sorting the jumbled contents of his own bag into something resembling order. The job was amateurish at best but more than he'd expected.

Let him sleep, he mused. At least it would prevent his friend from getting underfoot while the whole food situation was sorted.