Ah-- [ He knows what it is, to be immersed in a great deluge of paperwork. With the Company in the midst of an internal affairs review, Sion's focus had been turned to administrative minutiae before his own summons to Leith had been issued. True, that the paper trail of an audit is by far different from that borne of cataloguing (journaling? he cannot help but wonder at what it is that Lavi's cipher protects) events, but between them there is one stark similarity: a pile of papers, especially so when tiered together with books, will always scatter at its earliest convenience. But before the documents topple over, as though thoroughly intent upon returning to their rightful place upon the copilot's seat, Sion is quick to gather them, stacking them neatly (if not meticulously) together. ] Please, allow me.

[ And upon setting apart the books and papers, ensuring that the balance of both will be maintained, Sion regards Lavi with an artful cant of his head, a hum of realization upon his lips: ]

You're kind. [ —he says easily, naturally, with all the certainty that one might say water is wet and the sky is blue. ] First, caring to absolve me of my trespasses without first hearing an apology. Then, making room for me.

[ Now then, what sort of guest might he be if he did not take a seat where his host had so cleared went out of their way? Sinking down into the copilot's chair, Sion sits tall with shoulders broad, commanding without precisely meaning to be. ]

Kind... [ In a distant way, like fern frost clinging the outside of a windowpane—cold, partitioned by glass, but in need of the warmth on the other side to flourish and to grow. This, Sion feels, is the nature of Lavi's smile. ] ...but also exceedingly stupid, perhaps brave.

[ A turn of head, a rather pointed glance: ]

I have never heard anyone refer to Kanda as a 'babe'.

[ Here, he laughs, the sound featherweight and light, muffled with a polite back of hand— ]

Tell me, how did you meet him?