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"Um. That's okay, I think." Phew, she didn't push the cake question. Great, that made one less thing he needed to explain. And if she was holding onto his arm again he could always split his other arm in two - hey! No, no. He should do this the human way. Figuring out how to flip a page with only one hand. Yeah, that was a better idea. To hell with not being able to multitask internally, at least he could deal with it outside.

The doll however, oh hey, he's so huffy about it! The annoyer becomes the annoyed! "What, just because I board in there, you think I don't do anything in return? Whatever happened to symbiosis, huh? I'm no parasite, I keep his sister in ch - mmmmf!" "That's enough," Erhard butts in, snatching the doll up and covering the wriggling fellow with one hand, steely tone dissonant with the normal warm, flustery stammer.

Shh, silence.

"...... Oh. S-Sorry. Well, it's expected that he would ramble sometimes. Try not to take anything he says too seriously, okay?" And warm and flustery Erhard was back. "What were we going on about? Ah, yeah, that intern." Anything better to skip the previous topic with, then. "Yeah... No need for little visions of failure right before operations. Like the procedure itself was not stressful enough. But then for all it is, those visions hardly come true for some reason. So I don't think it's entirely true." A clairvoyant with a 100% failure rate, was that a good thing or a bad thing? Even then, bringing the intern would probably have turned them both away at the door, for what were the chances of finding the exact material he needed when he did not even know the subject well outside of encounters?

Then the answer was simple, from the one most affected by that absurd idea. "Then no. Even with catnaps, I'm the last person you'd want to sleep beside." Double meaning might not have been intended, with the doll trying to laugh even while gagged. Oh, was he going to explain her catching him sleeping on the job, then? "Even then, if that really did happen, I doubt I'd be back sleeping even after the sun has long come up. Nothing personal, just.... A bit hard to sleep after those. Even when it's supposedly otherwise." He gives her an assuring smile. Oh wait, that's not a smile, smiles don't shoot up to his ears with that crunch, neither do they look like someone broke a porcelain doll's mouth off and held it where it was supposed to be, chips and all.

The doll frowned behind his gag, nubby arm raised as if to say something important - really really important! - if he had not noticed the fingers holding his mouth shut gain the same texture as broken china, that is. Eyes wide and fully into panic mode, he pulled open the hand that held him, parting delicate (skin?), worming in and slamming the makeshift hatch shut. Merely a few seconds of distraction, but enough for Erhard to glance downwards, and enough for the creepy face to get wiped fully and repaired. "Oh," he simply muttered, staring at his now-empty hand like it had grown ten more fingers. But not like it was not unusual, anyway. "Oops. That... That wasn't supposed to happen," he goes on, shoulders jerking awkwardly. Was that supposed to be an attempted laugh? "Sorry. That got a bit out of hand." Hey, why was she not sliding as far away as she could? Or smacking him with a book and screaming? Ah, right. She was Amarante, after all. Loosen up a little, she already made it clear that she would not be running, so... "... Looks like I still need practice," he sighed. Okay, tense atmosphere relatively defused. "............."

Hey, he was supposed to be saying thanks to her for not already making sure that there's a mile between the both of them, right? Say something. There's nothing he can say. Not even a simple 'thank you'? His mouth was open and not a single word was coming out. So strange.

Hold on, yet another intermission. Shut those eyelids, settle back down on the sofa so she could lean on him. Cool those racing thoughts already! She might hear them. Shh. That's better. Now before she mistakes him to be sleeping too, wake up. And remember, don't talk about the sister. Skip! That! And double check those irises, yup, bright and red ones. Not the dull ones. Good to go!

"Not really. He works in a different department. But it's common to see him in the pantry." For reasons unknown, then. "Not really. Just... The one time he says that we are going to succeed at an operation, that's probably not something to look forward to." Ah, the opposite side of failure, then. "The pressure somehow multiplies when one knows one is going to fail. And it's nearly always those kinds of procedures that go awry."

But, enough chat. Time to finally get down to business. Let's see, which page was it that had Amarante on it? Might as well start from there again. Flip, flip.

"Mmm." Yup, totally distracted. Maybe. Like he had the courage to smile in front of others purposely. Better to put that uneasiness to reading.

Hmm. Was this her dad? Feels like he was flipping through a history book rather than a documentation tome, with paintings and his clothing style and - hey, he was one to say. But anyway. Then Erlea would be her mother. Was it really alright of him to be digging around in her family tree? And it was not like they would be finding her family on the opposite side of their mishaps anyway. Say, what would happen if that circumstance really did come true? On one side, they're his patients, on the other, his friend. Surely.... Not. If folders could fly, then someone on that team should know better than to engage Amarante or any member of her family. Right, unwarranted reassurances aside, back to reading.

Or maybe the might not even make it back if it was her father they ran into. Hey, enough with those thoughts. But then the book was doing what it was probably intended to - instill fear together with information? Maybe not so much fear as unfounded worry. Ah, she was asleep. No use waking her up for silly questions.

Say, was she still in touch with her parents? No wait, of all the situations to pop up in his mind suddenly, it's the confrontation at her shop. That was not his fault, right? Somehow he felt responsible for it, even if it was him that got lobbed a drink. But whatever the consequences, he wouldn't face the brunt of it. Right. Ahem.

Where's his notebook? Ah, wait. No moving that arm. Means no writing. Oh dear, this was going to be a bit of a problem. Um.

Okay, he would just have to make sure he didn't drip anything on the floor or the chaise. And if she woke up, well - she didn't react negatively earlier, so this should not be too different, right? Or better yet, he could take a third option. Did the bunnies know how to write? Or her errrr.... assistants? Looking for the nearest one, so how did she call them again? Looking around as best as he could, for any sign of those er, things. But, flip the page first, before putting his free hand up for assistance like a kindergarten student who did not know any better.

Oh bother. Of all things to answer, it would be her cat. Could cats write? He had to be at least optimistic about it, right? Might as well go along with it. "Uh," he began, trying hard not to stare straight at the black cat. That bad habit of staying as far away from animals as he could was not dying so easily. "Uh. Could you? Um.... Move a little, please." Why should the cat move from an unreadable page? Speaking of that... Ugh. The disdain that was welling up inside thanks to someone's callousness at information preservation was hard to keep from bubbling over. "I mean, um. Can you write?" Really? Asking a cat with paws whether she could write? "Um, forget that. Could you help me hold this while I take notes?" Would a cat not get crushed under the weight of a tome? ".... Aaah." Already the sigh of defeat shows itself.

Oh, first it was rabbits, now it was cats. They couldn't leave hair around, could they? Explaining a layer of animal hair on himself later would be a problem. Three cats in total. "Err.... Hi." He waved his free hand at the other two cats. Such an awkward introduction.

Well, whoever the author was, clearly the book served more of a hunting list rather than an information sink. Oh well. What's on the next page? And the next? And the next? Might as well see while he was trying to think of a solution to that writing problem.

Say, Amarante was being awfully quiet. Just not a few minutes and he found himself slightly unnerved about it. Was she not going to squish her blanket between him and her head? Or mutter something about being hard to sleep on? Or suddenly get up and grab a pillow to cushion her head against the solid, yet fragile thing that was a poor knockoff of human skin? Suppose that was the difference between her and Marie or Rosalia, then. Hmm, all three childish girls, yet surprisingly special, all in their own way. One with her innocence, another with her maturity, and of course, Amarante with her (devotion? That sounded odd. Passion then.) Right. He probably should not drift off too much, now that he had finally the chance to read quietly.

.... Did she finish her drink? These useless thoughts! What would it take for him to be focused for once? Did he finish his? Oh dear, such bad memory. Well, that could be saved for once Amarante woke up from her nap. He could refreeze it if need be anyway. What about the tray? He should throw it away. No, recycle it.

This certainly was not helping at all. Another frustrated sigh floated out of his mouth.

Luckily for him he was not drinking anything, otherwise the poor cats would have gotten an impromptu shower! "Er." Should he be occupied that the cat can talk - ah, know what? It should hardly be a surprise anymore. What should? - or that it could play cards and write, or that it probably learnt his nickname via Amarante? Okay, a moment to gather his thoughts, done.

Let's see, typing was definitely easier, if Bon (Bon? Like the candy bonbon?) could identify letters and have a paw small enough to type on a screen, but being the backwards fellow he was in fields outside his specialty, he had only a notepad for memos and a pen. Curiously, he pulled both out of his pocket, taking care not to rock Amarante's head too much, and offered it to the - hey, really? He was going to let the cat write his notes?
Or, a better idea since there were three cats. He took the tome instead and held it out to them. "I think I can write. I'll just need the three of you to help me hold this up, and flip the page if need be." Ah, that would be a much simpler job. And he could skip the dictating, or trying to decode cat handwr - er, paw-writing?
But he needs a table to write. Er. Come here, flying folder. This could be used as a table, and a cleanup spot. Tearing out a spare page of notepaper to use as a blotter in case any spare drops would get onto the manila, pen in hand, and ready. Notes on Amarante first, notes on Iske, notes on Marcellus, notes on a bee....! A bee?! Was that what she used for her coffee bean plantation?! Oh dear, she certainly was not kidding about that. The idea of her growing a giant tomato plant somehow seemed less and less out of the question now that he realized she probably had giant bee workers to help.

Snicker, snicker. A passing glance at the redhead, a fleeting curiosity at what she might be dreaming of. Must be a sweet dream. Pat her head, why not? It might add to her enjoyment. There, there. Oh yeah, that bruise on her head and neck.

Hey, he could take a proper look at it now that she was asleep, right? And he could treat it, with that emergency bottle of panacea. Question, did he dare? This was an intrusion of privacy, wasn't it. But she would wake up with a painless head. And it's just topical application. Would it work on her? He should be studying. But medical aid! Oooooh, so confusing, it's overloading!
Wait, he had notes. Open that file to... Here it was. That black file that Miyabi passed him. There might be information on the effects of human antibiotics somewhere in there. Or better yet, topical antiseptic creams. Did she use them, or did she just wait until her injuries faded? Why was he not surprised if she waited? Oh well.

Or, he could also just ask the cats. How was he so incredibly dense? ".... Sorry. Does your ma - Ama use topical creams? Like, um, antiseptics? Or antibiotics?" Surely her familiars would know if she did. Right?

Oh, they were good. Just suppress that urge to ask all of them to roll over and play fetch, okay? "Just nice. Thank you." There, done with this page. This actually was not so bad. "Next page, please?"

As expected of Amarante. Did 'mind-altering substances' also mean chocolate, by any chance? Or coffee? Caffeine was such an effective painkiller sometimes... Or maybe that was just him. But well, chiding Amarante on her drinking and smoking habits now was a no. Maybe he'd nag a little, but she was different from a normal human, were tar and hepatitis even problems for her? Most likely not. "Hasn't even...?" Well, he had better steady that frail ice maker if the answer was one that warranted two 'shut up's. Where's that bottle? Aha, coat pocket. With convenient sterile swabs too! Just a few items shy of carrying a full first aid kit in his pockets, then. But would anyone not expect him to not do so? However! "... Would she mind?" It wouldn't do for her to wake up and realize that he had put something on her head while she was asleep, anyway. "It should help with the swelling a bit, and soreness." And shorten the healing duration, but she got that part down pat already.

Okay, so maybe he was not really one for chatting while doing work. Just listen to them go on, for now. It was always too quiet in the office, it had always been. Might as well take the chance to listen to a little background noise, even if it came from three cats and their napping mistress. Besides, one was already talking like he was not even there, so why not just follow and be quiet?

That certainly depended on someone's definition of 'interesting' or 'helpful', wouldn't it? He sighed and shook his head. "It's interesting to read about to me, but the people I'm noting this down for might say otherwise. It's not particularly helpful in my line of work however, but they can probably make very good use of it should the time come." It was better to have something to refer to in the case of emergencies, even if his notes were most likely going to be shelved somewhere out of sight for most of the time. Funny he would worry about that than worry about whether said recipients could even read his handwriting to begin with.

Curiously, there was no sudden icicles or glaciers appearing. There was not even that slight drop of temperature, no, not even after he had taken in all of Sen's words. Perhaps the difference really was in the execution of information delivery after all. But of course, the link between her endorphin source getting changed still sailed right over his head. "It's probably for safety reasons," he said, glancing at the still-sleeping Amarante. "Can't risk anyone getting second-hand contact, maybe." Or just trying not to get nagged at by him, he supposed too. "Which is a good thing, don't get me wrong, but um..." Should his presence really be affecting her social life that much? And she changed her lifestyle quite drastically in a few places, all because of a few words he said long ago. Haha, it felt so distant now, it was practically getting foggy in his head.

"I.... What?" No, not the disbelief, but the simple non-understanding stayed his hand. Drip, drip. Oops. Emergency tissues to the rescue! Hopefully she did not wake up simply because a few drops of cooling stuff had gotten onto her neck. Er. Right. Gently, he nudged her around, brushed away her hair and collar, dabbed at both wounds with the gel-soaked swab and covered them with bandage squares. There, all done. Just nudge her back to her original sleeping position, and she should be alright when she wakes up. He hoped. Instead of waking up and banging her head against something else.