Pen wakes up at about four in the afternoon. It takes her a few seconds to remember why she's here, but then she remembers and starts looking for Cindy.
She's not very graceful at first - there's no wind in here, she can't catch any updrafts and isn't making her usual course corrections - but she's strong and eager to be airborne, so she beats her wings harder, and sings and sings.
Eventually, when Pen has the hang of the limited space and the knack of indoor flying, she swoops down on him and, one hand under each of his arms, scoops him up into the air with her.
"Not floating-up wind here," she informs him when she's aloft once more and her song is over.
"Yeah," he says. "'Cause we're inside. I could find you someplace outside but it'll take longer."
"Mhm! This was supposed to be a concert hall," he says. "But they never finished building it."
Pen sings another song, swooping around as high as she can without bumping into the ceiling.
After a few hours, she is tired of flapping so much. She lands on the stage, and finishes her current song, and then folds her wings and yawns and goes up to him and hugs him.
She wraps her wings around him and sighs, rather more happily than she has previously sighed, and then says, "Now what?"
"Mm, now we go home and I get you some things to draw with," he says. "Any other stuff you want? More books?"
He goes right back out to acquire things, so she has the run of the place. The kitchen has all the same things in it that it did the last time she looked.
And Cindy is back in an hour, carrying a white plastic bag full of things and a large cardboard box.
"Mmmmarkers," he says, pulling the first thing out of the plastic bag and handing it to her. "Colouring books," second. "Books in general." An almost random selection of five that looked like fun. "And a helicopter!"
The helicopter is in a cardboard box of its very own, and it is the last thing in the bag.