Young Writers Society

He huffed. "Very well."

"Thank you."

"Shall I do the talking, at least?"

"Has doing the talking worked for you in this city at all in the past several years?"

He grimaced. "I don't go out if I can help it."

"When was the last time you interacted with your neighbors?"

"I don't have neighbors," he said morosely. "I chose the most remote cottage."

"The people of the city are your neighbors. The members of the community you could join if you were so inclined."

"Then the last time I talked to them was...how long was I asleep again? Six months? Last year, then."

"And how did that interaction go?"

"A child threw a clay pot at me."

Kivvien suppressed a laugh. "So you aren't only not respected, but you're disliked as well."

He wrinkled his nose. "That boy is a menace to anyone who comes within twenty feet of him. It isn't my doing."

"Ah, I see. A few of the Nobles' younger children are rather difficult to deal with around the castle, it wasn't too pleasant when they made their ways to my lab when my partner wasn't there to talk down their mischief."

"Children are more trouble than they're worth. Far worse than any homunculus or chimera!"