[In the city of iron and glass, white was not a colour that was easily found. Everything had a film of grime or grit on it. This amount of constant white was an eyesore, and even now, he wasn't used to it despite having lived in the apartments since leaving the Kiramman mansion.

He slowly made his way over to the bed at her offer, awkwardly sitting on the edge of it like it might buckle under his weight. His bed was considerably larger, actually able to accommodate his height and width. That was a rare thing.]

It's hard to tell what they like and don't like. The fact there's not currency, no obvious crime, nothing to do but wait and fill the time... [He trailed off, taking the crayon that she offered and turning it over in his hands. How many time had he lay on the floor with her just scribbling and telling her silly stories with made up voices?] It's uncomfortable.