He shrugs. "Until Father finds out, I suppose. If I haven't seen any trouble over it by a week from now, I don't think I will. But it's hard to know for sure."

Aya sighs and nods (carefully; her head still hurts a little).

"I'm glad you like the cake," he adds.

"It's really good. I love coconut."

Aelare grins at her.

"You seem awfully pleased about having made me a cake."

"Well, you like the cake," he explains.

"Yes, I do. You seem inordinately happy about having made me a well-received cake."

"Am I? I think I'm exactly the right amount of happy."

"Why is the right amount of happy so exuberantly large?"

"Because that's how happy I am."

"Does that mean if you were some other, perhaps smaller, amount of happy, that would be the right amount too?"

"Sure."

"Why this amount and not that amount?"

"I don't know. I guess I'm just the kind of person who really, really likes," he waves a hand vaguely, "things like this. Getting drawings of foxes and giving cake."

"You get so excited."

"Seems so."

"I started your magpie," she adds. "Before I went downstairs."

He smiles. Happily.

Aya giggles.

Well in that case, so does he.

Aya finishes the magpie the following morning (after having a slice of cake for breakfast). She tucks it under his door.