"...You ate the entire thing?"

The hair-like tufts on his friend's head seemed to droop, only adding to the aura of guilt that gathered like a fog. It had made sense at the time and there hadn't been that much left, anyway. Still...

Unexpectedly, Klug smiled and gave a modest shrug, "it couldn't be helped, I suppose. I didn't offer you a proper meal, after all, so it's on me. Sig? Hey, don't look down, it's fine."

"You wanted toast, though," Sig's big, half-lidded mismatched eyes continued to look forlorn, as though having to alter breakfast plans was an unspeakable sin. Never mind that most of the morning had already slipped away so anything eaten now would practically be 'brunch'.

"I said it was fine, so it's fine! Come here, see if anything piques your interest," the mage gestured, rummaging busily in the icebox.

"'Kay..."

At the opposite end of the kitchen and its humanoid infestation, the newly-liberated and very, very unhappy book-bound spirit repressed its pent-up irritation from its nook on the counter. Its book of word puzzles did little to improve its attitude but at least it gave it a focus other than the mage and his empty-headed annoyance of a guest. Every once in awhile it would glance up from its pencil scrawlings, glare, and return to the columns and rows of empty boxes, dutifully filling each one in while it fantasized about jamming Sig in the breadbox, in one big piece or otherwise.

Very, very well adjusted, that one.

"Look, you were planning on going home to change anyway, right? Why not pick up a few things on the way back here? That way I can stay and start transcribing what we've finished so far," the academic offered, setting out a juice pitcher and his comestibles of choice, "and you're still helping. I'll give you the money. What do you say?"

Sig paused, a piece of fruit and his half-finished muffin in hand. As hard as he tried, his penmanship was... not good, to put it kindly. He sat at the table, a hint of disbelief in his tone as he asked, "you can read it?.."

"... Yes? Some of the smaller margin notes are trickier, but I'll manage. This isn't the first time I've dealt with it, either. Honestly?" He rifled through a cabinet, producing two glasses while ignoring the evil eye the unhappy book demon gave him, "it's gotten a little better. Not great, but it's more legible than some cursive I've seen."

"Really?" The cyan-haired somnolist's mood visibly improved, bizarre plume-like hair returning to a neutral state. Praise, even this slight and critical kind, was rare to hear from Klug. Chewing on the somewhat stale muffin, he recalled his notion from yesterday, the one about the glasses-wearer maybe being sick. That would explain a few things...

"If I didn't mean it then I wouldn't say it, now would I? Anyway," he continued, pouring drinks and starting to pick at some form of unidentifiable leftovers, "there's still a lot to get done. How do you feel about staying over again? I'll feed you properly this time, too. Well?"

On one hand, the bug catcher didn't want to be any trouble. On the other hand, it would mean more time and less pressure to finish the paper. It would let him keep an eye on Klug, too, and make sure he was okay. Still...

"Um, wanna bring my ladybug this time. Won't cause any trouble, promise..."

Of course he'd want to bring one of those things with him. At least it wasn't a biting or stinging insect and its huge size made it hard to lose track of. Where did he even find one that big? Reluctantly, Klug nodded and mumbled, "just please, please keep it off of me."

"... And wanna cook, or help, at least. Sound okay?"

"You... can cook? Really?" The words sounded far more incredulous than he perhaps intended, but it was a legitimate surprise. He'd expected that Sig would want to bring some bug or other, but...

The small, uncomfortable noise his friend made verified that he'd sounded too harsh, too dismissive. Was it really that much of a shock? As far as he knew, Sig lived alone, and didn't seem the type that could afford to live off of takeout. Necessity, and all that, implied at least a basic proficiency.

"Sorry, sorry, that came out wrong. If you insist on assisting, I suppose that's fine. Have anything in mind?"

Sig ruminated, chewing on a piece of what looked like a pear. Something basic, something hard to screw up. His claws tapped the table's surface, drumming a monotonous rhythm as he thought. Tappity. Tappity. Tap. Swallowing the bite, he extended an open carmine palm and suggested, "curry?.."

"You've been hanging out around Arle, I take it?" The magic user from another world practically introduced the stuff locally, popularizing the adaptable stew-like dish. Again, Klug felt a pang of envy. There were so many things he wanted to ask the lady mage about her magic and the place from whence she came, but...

"Sometimes," the boy shrugged, "curry's okay?"

"Yes, yes, just tell me what you need and I'll start making a list."

"Sounds good," the entomophile chirped, then glanced around surreptitiously and whispered, "umm, Klug? Your book's... weird."

"... Really." An accurate observation, if an obvious one.

"Mmhm. Seemed really upset last night. Why?"

"Honestly? I haven't the slightest idea. When it's that upset, well," the mage waved dismissively, "there's no reasoning with it."

It? Odd. Yes, it was a weird yelling ribbon-like creature living in a book, but Sig had the vague impression that it was a 'he'. While it was impossible not to have seen the little red thing before as Klug lugged the book around with him practically everywhere, there was something else faintly familiar about its presence. Not the warm feeling of half-remembered nostalgia but something more... troubling. Still, he couldn't quite put a finger on anything specific. Better not to worry, he supposed, shoving the nebulous mess of thoughts to the back of his mind.

"Happens often?"

"W-well, I wouldn't say often," Klug mumbled, pushing his glasses up unnecessarily, "but Ayashii's temperamental from time to time. Don't let it bother you."

The largest points on the semi-corporeal entity pricked up like the ears on a cat, catching the barest mention of its name. Still glowering, it stared in Klug's direction and hissed, then just as quickly resumed its word puzzle with renewed fury. The savage scratch scratch ing of the pencil was loud enough to hear across the room.

"... Would apologizing help?"

Stopping to consider it for a moment, the scholar shook his head, "I doubt it. Aya isn't fond of people, putting it mildly. An apology wouldn't mean much. Bribery or stroking its ego generally work, however."

"Um, how? Egos aren't... things?" The idiom was lost on Sig, trying to figure out how one could literally pet an intangible concept. Still, at least he knew what an ego was.

"Praise, flattery, that sort of thing. It likes feeling important, basically."

"Oh." The edges of the somnolist's mouth curved into a slight smile as he privately mused, sounds kinda familiar...