Cindy isn't there, but he left some snacks on the counter - assorted fruits and a plate of homemade chocolate chip cookies.

Pen eats them and tries to see if she can make his funny music machine work.

The funny music machine is reasonably cooperative!

And soon enough, Cindy comes home. He grins at her as he climbs in the window.

"Hiiii," says Pen. "Where you went?"

"Here'n'there. I had some people to talk to. Could be I'm making a new friend," he says cheerfully.

"Ooh, who?"

"We-ell, that part I don't know yet," he says. "You couldn't really say we've met. It's more like we're, hmm, writing letters."

Pen giggles. "Penfriend!" she jokes.

"Something like that," he says, laughing.

"Maybe are many thems!" says Pen. "I can see? When seeing happen?"

"I don't know yet if I'm gonna see 'em at all," he says. "It only could be I'm making a friend. Could be I'm getting to know somebody who's gonna try to kill me." Brightly, "Could be both."

"Where I go if you die till Mommy get you back?"

"Can't help you there," he says. "But I'll try not to get killed."

"Okay," sighs Pen.

"Are ya hungry? I think I'm gonna make lunch," he says, proceeding into the kitchen area and scooping a cookie on the way.

"Yeah, lunch!" agrees Pen.

He makes lunch! It is mysterious but tasty. And he washes all the dishes and cleans everything up afterward.

"You can if you want," he says. "But people are probably gonna see you, and if they see you and believe themselves there's no telling what they'll do. Could be something you won't like."

"Like what?"

"Somebody might try to take you apart to see what you're made of, or lock you in a box for people to stare at."

"I don't come apart," shudders Pen, wrapping her wings around herself.

"Doesn't mean they wouldn't try."