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"What, why dinner?" Oliver yelped, a second before getting a face full of pillow. He returned the blow, bringing the pillow down over Arorangi's head with both hands, and falling onto the floor in the process.

"You'll make me eat something weird, that's no fair!" The boy protested from the floor. Not once did he entertain the notion of actually winning a pillow fight.

"But I also eat chips and candy," Oliver insisted, as though that made all the difference in the world. The appearance of the boy's occasional humour was a positive sign, and although he didn't hit Arorangi back right away, he did sit up and wipe his eyes again. The frightening memories faded more quickly when he wasn't alone in the dark.

He sighed, and leaned against the side of the bed. "Are you sure we can't have... um... traditional Canadian food instead? Like beaver tails? Or butter tarts?"

Oliver smiled, sometimes it seemed like Arorangi saw him differently from anyone else he knew. Perhaps it had just been too long since he had become so comfortable around someone else, but with the large Mist hunter he felt he could be whatever he was, without worrying about being who he was supposed to be.

The hair ruffling passed without comment, but at the look on his friend's face regarding beaver tails was enough to make Oliver laugh. There was no way he could even attempt to bluff.

"No, well, yes it is an animal, but beaver tails are big, flat pastries that you can get with toppings!" He explained, still grinning. "Like... this big!" The boy held out his hands indicating a little less than a foot in length. "There's a whole restaurant chain that makes them, but we never had one in my town. My mom had a recipe she used to make them with instead."

"They don't have beaver in them, that would be weird," Oliver replied with a smile. For a kid who's meat of choice was the unspecified and highly processed hotdog or chicken nugget, Arorangi must have been just trying to make him laugh. "They just look like big, flat things, like beaver's tails. But they are like... not pie crusts, more like... um... cinnamon buns? The way they are soft and flexible and not flaky."

The boy was fast wearing down, whatever nightmare-induced adrenaline he had in his system was losing it's effectiveness and it meant he once again started to look like sleep was in order. Beaver tails should have been a nicer thought to fall asleep to, but Oliver was not going to crawl back into bed that easily.

Oliver hesitated, but there really was no fighting that look. It was a fair warning that Arorangi was capable of picking him up and tossing him back into bed as easily as breathing, and there was no point making a fuss out of resisting. In the end, the boy climbed back up into the bed, and shook his pillow to fluff it up.

"I don't think I could eat most of those things... I think cows and pigs and chickens are good enough. And turkey sometimes. Fish... um, I suppose regular fish sticks are okay." His voice fell to a mutter as he put his head down, and shifted to find the most comfortable position.

A few seconds later he was comfortably cocooned once more, but not entirely willing to close his eyes and go back to sleep. "I heard beaver is really greasy."

"I've never had salmon, just the regular kind of frozen br-RFFFT" Oliver was cut off as the pillow struck him right in the face. It disappeared into the lump under the covers, to reveal one of Oliver's rare petulant faces.

Snuggling deeper into the blankets, he wrapped his arms around the newly acquired second pillow. "Okay... I'll try... Sorry for waking you, by the way."

"It's okay, fish sticks are fine..." Oliver replied. He didn't bring up the waking-up topic again, but Arorangi's answer was comfortable and reassuring. He would at least try and go back to sleep so the interruption wouldn't be for nothing.

"Goodnight..." He said with a yawn, and closed his eyes.