[...You know, you have very thoroughly managed to distract him with your. your fucking egg. why is it there, why is it an egg, why -

Okay, no, no, he's got this. He's got this.]

Yeah, I doubt - ...what is it with you and eggs, anyway.

[...He doesn't have this.]

[...What do you even. Say. To that.]

Guess so. Most people wouldn't try to decorate with them, though.

[...]

Son, you have problems, but thank fuckin' god I'm not interested in getting into them right now.

Come on, I've got a good amount of your shit upstairs.

[...Look, just. Come up to his room with him and try not to make this any weirder than it already is, all right? It's nowhere near as organized as yours is, but it's more of a lived-in sort of disarray as opposed to something that's truly disorganized or looks like it belongs on Hoarders or something. Someone really obviously sleeps here at night, that's about it.

...There's also a good-sized rapier with a high-quality gold-and-pearl guard and pommel on it near the bed, lying in a position that's clearly intended for ease of access if anyone comes into the room when he's sleeping, but that's neither here nor there.

That said, he'll immediately move over to the dresser, opening the drawer that's designated as his - ]

I didn't know whether they were after you or Yeager earlier, so I just took goddamn everything if it looked important. I still don't know what the shit all of this is, but I figured it'd be better here than letting the shithead prosecutors try to go through all of it.

[...Your notes are in here, in other words. So many notes. Just let him grab them and rather unceremoniously put them down on top of the damn dresser.]

I wouldn't say it's thoughtful - more like I've got a few people I'm not too interested in seeing dead yet.

[There's a difference, obviously.]

[Are you fucking kidding, kindness is disgusting.]

Sure, why the hell not - if that's what you're offering, I'll accept it.

[Wh...]

You are absolutely fucking with me.

[...Okay, well, first of all.]

Do I look like I give a fuck whether I'm dealing with a child or not? You're old enough to be here, you're old enough to handle your shit.

But if it's a chronological issue then...what, body's technically thirteen, everything else is fine?

[To his credit, he doesn't sound like he...doesn't believe you.]

You know what, sure. I'll take your goddamn word for it. There are witches and undead things and whatever the fuck that girl that eats everything thinks she's trying to be, I can handle fucking golems.

Or whatever the fuck you are. I don't give a damn what you're made of.

[well i mean your fucking eggs are weird and look at you go, buddy]

I'll keep that in mind for the next time you end up owing me a favor.

[...]

You ever need anything kept quiet or destroyed due to something like that, you let me know, yeah? Or don't, I'll do what I can short-notice, either way.