Lyric opened the door and Malk rocketed inside, as if the whorling's apartment were somewhere new and exciting. He made his rounds, sniffing at everything to make sure it hadn't been touched during the day's absence: it was routine, now, after three weeks of living with the little sa'enkeyn. Little Bell, perched on Lyric's shoulder, made a chuckling sound, which Lyric echoed quietly before slipping in after his current charge and closing the door behind him.

Sai wasn't in, but Lyric wasn't surprised. The little terigon had long since grown up, and was too restless to spend her days either cooped up inside the apartment or in the classroom with Lyric, no matter how much excitement occurred in preschool, or how much trouble the newly bonded in his afternoon classes got into. She was, he guessed, out with Gyra, who was probably with her band. That was a little more Sai's style. Since Malk didn't know her well enough to miss her, he didn't mind that all he had in the way of dinner company was Lyric and Little Bell.

Dinner was something new tonight: baked butterloaf bread stuffed with an Avengaean vegetable with a name Lyric could never remember, Atuan lizard meat, and bits of garlic and onion. Lyric tried to cook or order in something new at least once a week, for Malk's benefit, as his dinners as a family pet on the world Kartyn had been the same every night, except when he managed to wheedle table scraps out of sympathetic children. As they ate, Malk chattered happily around bites about this or that, mostly the day they'd just had and what he'd studied or said or played, and Lyric, listening, thought about what they might do the next day, what Malk might be directed to learn next, and who he might play with.

Particularly the "who he might play with" part. He had an idea, one which would both help keep Malk happily occupied and which would, hopefully, help teach him responsibility, as well. 

"Malk," Lyric said as he carried-- or, rather, levitated-- their dishes from the table and to the sink, "what would you think of getting a friend to live with us, a brother or sister of sorts?"

"Er, why, are you having one?" Malk asked, a little warily, and Lyric laughed; though he was childlike in many ways, he always reminded one that he was an adult, if a sheltered one.

"No, no, I'd need a mate for that to happen," he answered, settling the plates, silverware, and glasses into the sink and turning on the tap. "I meant we'd adopt someone. Or, rather, you would adopt someone, and I would generously offer to let him or her live in my house and eat my food."

Malk stared up at him with an open mouth. "Me? Adopt somebody?"

"Well, certainly."

"Would I have to look after them?"

"I'd help," Lyric promised.

That seemed to have been the right thing to say: excitement was starting to replace the confusion and wariness in Malk's expression. His tail was starting to twitch happily, and his ears were fully perked. "Who'd we be adopting?"

"You've met Sai, yes?"

"Is she having babies?" Malk asked, again surprised.

"No, but the place where she came from is still looking for people to adopt others like her. You would pick up an egg, with me to carry it home for you, and when it hatches, look after and raise the terigon. And I'll help," he reminded him, in case the thought of having the terigon be entirely his responsibility made Malk nervous.

Thankfully, there didn't seem to be a lot of nervousness there. Malk was already starting to tremble, mouth agape with cheerful excitement. "Oh, c-can we?? When? Where d-do we go?"

"If you'd like, we can go now," Lyric suggested, and Malk bolted for the door. Lyric, laughing, followed him: after all, he'd need his help to get to the Abstract Destiny!

Malk chose this egg:

Chapter Two

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