Kiseki flopped onto the bed, eventually tiring of going round in circles. Very carefully, he removed the brace and set it upon the bedside table.

Elijah slid his glance sideways to observe the strange boy. His hair seemed to defy gravity, sticking out at unexpected angles. He was wearing a pair of loose-fitting black trousers, belted at the waist, and a red sleeveless shirt that buttoned up to the collar. He had long, slender fingers, which were currently fidgeting and tracing the stitching of the quilt, as if it was difficult for him to be completely still.

Elijah wondered what Kiseki was doing here. As far as he could see, Kiseki seemed to be in perfect physical condition. Elijah had some doubts as to his mental health, but he hadn't been here long enough to guess at a diagnosis, yet. Elijah still felt incensed that he had to share a room with this hellion. He was also trying not to think about the fact that there was only one bed in their room.

Elijah wanted to go home. He wanted to get lost in the mind-numbing neon of the internet, or be curled up in his favourite armchair watching raindrops slide down his windowpane. He wanted to Connor to come back and remind him to take his medication. He wanted Iris to frown at him for daydreaming while he was supposed to be reading documents that needed his signature.

Right at this particular moment, he'd even prefer to be in occupational therapy than stuck here, which was saying a lot. He'd stopped going to OT several months back, and no amount of Connor's cajoling or Iris' threatening could convince him to return. Elijah just didn't see the point to it.

Kiseki sat up again and stretched, yawning widely. As he did, Elijah caught something else moving, at the edge of his vision. His glance fell on the pile of his clothes beside Kiseki, and as he watched, something beneath one of his t-shirts twitched. He could almost see it; dark and sort of furry. Perhaps a rat?

"Don't move," Elijah whispered.

Kiseki froze, looking to Elijah questioningly.

"There's something on the bed... don't move..." Elijah waited, holding his breath, until he saw the t-shirt twitch again, and then he yanked the shirt out of the way and pounced.

Several things happened almost simultaneously. Elijah grabbed something that felt furry and very much alive. At the same time, Kiseki let out a loud, indignant yowl. The furry thing was then yanked from Elijah's hand as Kiseki launched himself off one side of the bed. Elijah, now off-balance, fell off the other side and landed on the floor with a thud.

Elijah had the wind knocked out of him and remained motionless for a few moments, struggling to catch a breath.

A head appeared over the edge of the bed, looking down at him fearfully.

Elijah finally managed to suck in a lungful of air and sat up, coughing. Kiseki flowed over the edge of the bed and crouched beside him on the floor, obviously agitated.

Elijah frowned at Kiseki reproachfully, between coughs and gasps. "You didn't tell me you had a tail."

"You didn't ask," Kiseki sulked.

"So you can talk!" Elijah stared at him for a moment and then began to cough even harder, his head falling forwards as he bent over his knees. When he looked up again, he saw Kiseki hovering miserably.

Elijah flapped a hand at him, tears in his eyes. "Not crying -- la-- laughing!"

Kiseki sat back on his heels, looking somewhat put out.

"Sorry, sorry..." Elijah grinned as he tried to catch his breath again. "It's just... the absurdity of this whole situation."

Kiseki blinked at him, tail clutched protectively in one hand. Elijah realised that the tail had been there all along, he'd just mistaken it for a belt. Could this day get any more bizarre?

"I'm not even going to ask why you have a tail. Or," Elijah said, peering at the top of Kiseki's head, "ears."

"You got ears , too!" Kiseki said.

"Not black and furry, I don't!"

"Not Kiseki's fault," Kiseki said, and stuck out his tongue for extra effect.

Elijah, with mock outrage, made another grab for Kiseki's tail, but Kiseki skittered just out of reach.

Elijah tried to get a hand-hold on the edge of the bed to help him pull himself upright, but could get no purchase. The quilt and sheets were dragged over the edge of the bed as he put his weight on them. Elijah felt the familiar frustration and shame, curling tight within his stomach. He hated speaking the words. They always caught in his throat and he had to force them out.

"I need help to get up."

He hated it, hated to see pity in people's faces when he said it. He hated the way they lowered a hand and dragged him to his feet as they would a three-year-old.

He waited for it, waited for the hand, but it didn't appear. He looked to the side and found Kiseki had returned to kneel beside him, and then dropped to hands and knees.

Elijah looked at him, confused. Was this some kind of game? Was Kiseki trying to humiliate him? "What are you doing?"

"Kiseki stepladder!" Kiseki declared, grinning from somewhere beneath the shaggy mop that adorned his head.

Elijah's eyes widened; the strange boy's actions were so unexpected. Elijah couldn't tell wether it was a deliberately-chosen response, or whether it was just a co-incidence, yet another game to amuse himself. Did Kiseki understand what he was offering? How had he picked the one response that let Elijah help himself, rather than being at someone else's mercy?

Elijah braced himself with one hand upon Kiseki's shoulder and the other on his lower back, and awkwardly pushed himself to his feet. He sat back down onto the bed somewhat gingerly. Kiseki grinned at him, and then launched himself from the ground and onto the bed with one leap.

"Show-off," Elijah said.

Kiseki smirked at him.

Elijah sat back against the bedhead, energy running low, and looked around the room that they would be sharing. The walls were stuccoed, with velvet hangings and electric lamps fixed upon each wall. The carpet was deeply piled; warm and soft to lie upon, but not exactly wheelchair-friendly, Elijah noted. The colours of the room were rich and vibrant.

On one side of the room, there were several pieces of gymnastic equipment affixed to the wall: monkeybars, parallel bars, a swing, a fireman's pole. There were also heavy bolts set into the walls, from which other equipment could be made to hang, Elijah supposed. To Elijah, all of the above spelled physiotherapy. He wondered when the torture sessions would start. He hoped, at the very least, he wouldn't have to stand on one foot with a lampshade on his head again.

On the other side of the room was a door.

"Bathroom?"

Kiseki nodded.

Elijah pushed himself to his feet and went to relieve himself, taking each step with care and staying close to the walls.

When he returned, he found Kiseki sprawled face-up on the bed. Elijah could have sworn he was nowhere near tall enough to have a limb dangling from each side, but the boy seemed to be made of elastic.

Elijah collapsed onto a chair. "So... why are you here?"

Kiseki tilted his head sideways and blinked at him. "This is Kiseki's room!"

"So I was informed. It sucks, not having rooms of our own, huh?"

Kiseki seemed mystified by this opinion, shaking his head in obvious disagreement.

Elijah shrugged. "Well, some people like company, I guess. I'm more of a loner. Connor says I'm completely anti-social. This from a guy who won't answer his phone when he's playing playstation." Elijah rolled his eyes.

Kiseki blinked at him, uncomprehending.

"Uh... so ..." Elijah scrabbled for another topic of conversation. "What are we supposed to be doing here, anyway?"

This caused Kiseki to sit up, a wide grin spreading across his face. "We have fun!"

"Fun? What sort of fun?"

Kiseki opened his mouth and then closed it again, one furry ear twitching back and forth. Elijah got the impression that he was trying very hard not to say whatever his first thought was. Finally, he settled upon: "We have fun! We play!"

"We're supposed to play? Oh, joy," Elijah muttered darkly. He suspected that Kiseki was referring to some 'getting to know each other' activities, of which he would, voluntarily or not, be expected to take part. He assumed that some kind of caretaker would come along eventually and tell him what was expected of him. "So when does this 'fun' all start?"

Kiseki threw his arms wide and grinned. "Start now!"

Elijah arched an eyebrow. "If it's all the same to you, I think I'll wait until it's officially time to begin... whatever it is that's done here."

Kiseki wilted a little. "No play with Kiseki?"

"I don't play well with others," Elijah said, somewhat sarcastically.

Kiseki's face fell and he turned away, curling up in a ball on the far side of the bed, his back turned to Elijah.

Elijah sighed. "Look, I'm sorry... it's nothing personal against you or this place. But it wasn't my idea to come here, and I'm only going to be here until I can figure out a way home."

Kiseki made no reply, but Elijah could see his shoulder shaking, ever so slightly. A muffled sort of hiccough reached him. Oh, wonderful, Elijah thought. He'd made the poor kid cry.

He didn't feel like dealing with a leaky, emotional room-mate, but eventually, guilt got the better of him. Damn that conscience. He pushed himself to his feet and returned to sit on the edge of the bed.

"Hey... I'm sorry, ok? I'm just having a bad day. I didn't mean to take it out on you."

The sniffles didn't stop. Elijah felt like a right bastard.

"Um... maybe we could have lunch together or something? I'm starving, what about you?"

Kiseki sat up immediately, scrubbed his face with his sleeve, and then threw both arms into the air. "Food!" The grin returned, and Elijah couldn't help but smile in return. The kid was cute, Elijah would give him that.

"Ok. Let's do it."

Elijah rang the bell, and the door opened almost immediately, the pleasant, round face of one of the pages peeking around the door frame. The page informed him that there weren't any menus, but that the Palace would provide literally anything he desired to eat.

Elijah ordered a burger, chips, and a coke. Connor wasn't here to make him eat properly, so he might as well enjoy it while he could.

Kiseki ordered fried chicken, a banana fritter, two cinnamon doughnuts, a chocolate frog and a bottle of creamy soda. Elijah was forced to admit that in terms of junk food, he was a mere amateur. He wondered how on earth Kiseki managed to stay so trim eating that kind of thing on a regular basis.

The page brought both meals on a tray. There was a small table and two chairs in one corner of the room, and Kiseki and Elijah sat down to eat.