[ midnight says 'dear' in the way that causes kaveh's caustic knee-jerk reflex to spit out an equally confounding 'and in what way am i dear to you'? but kaveh thinks, he's starting to understand it - or understand his own need to build his own understanding of it. the elderly neighbour next door with her near-blindness and her tendency to fuss over each and every member of sumeran society unlucky enough to be within fussing distance says 'dear' in the way that has failed first children of high-expectation parents everywhere to prickle up in something like abject shame. midnight says it with a laugh that bleeds into the darkness of the clothing shop.

more than enough, midnight says. kaveh's head cants in something like acquiescence, and then he sets himself to rearrange his hairclips. deft hands, deft feet, they bring him down onto ground level so that he can watch with the swaying light in his hands midnight swallow the chandelier up with his jacket. ]

No, I think the chandelier is in rather safe hands. But if it happens to be damaged because, say, you run into someone you need to hit over the head with something and the chandelier is all that you have, let me know. I know where to get little crystals that look like those to fix them back into place. [ kaveh begins, and then, perhaps a little less forcefully- ] ... and I am sorry, for what it's worth. I don't usually... [ kaveh's fingers slot his clips into place. then, at a loss for what to do next, he waves his hand vaguely. ] Or rather, I shouldn't have had that sort of reaction. I've said a few things I probably shouldn't have. Don't take them to mind.