Renée makes a very large grocery trip. Ax deems alfalfa hay intended for consumption by guinea pigs and rabbits to be the hoof-eating equivalent of palatable; it also turns out he can eat a few other things, like carrot tops and turnip greens. He still doesn't like living in the garage, even though it's a different one. Andi finds him a little planetarium gadget that throws star-patterns onto the ceiling.
Renée installs a cot in the basement for Charlie. (His generic human morph is a man about ten years younger than him, plausibly Latino but just as plausibly not, plain and unremarkable. He also picks up a Renée morph. He will be able to drive the girls places, publicly know their names. They can tell he appreciates the opportunity, however weird it is.) Trouble is allowed to sleep on the couch, when Renée learns that he would prefer not to share the basement with Charlie.
Bella sews weights onto all the curtain hems so they won't be easily nudged aside.
The twins also collect generic-human-morphs. Both of theirs are college-age women, samples collected from going on premature college tours and shaking a lot of hands - Bella's looks maybe half Asian when she's done tweaking it, Andi winds up with a complexion much like her usual one but a surprisingly Hawaiian set of features.
Renée never asks to be enabled to morph. Bella eventually offers, "for emergencies", and Renée aggregates a number of her co-workers into the most stereotypical teacher-lady it is possible to Frolis into without requiring vision correction.
Renée makes the arrangements well in advance to homeschool the twins.
Bella quizzes Ax about all sorts of things, for large parts of each day.
"Yeah, but I'm not a pigeon. I'm completely not thinking of any good talking pigeon names, by the way."
<I can get bread lots of places, but only one of them comes with such adorable chattering.>
"Oh my god, a person has been listening to me talk about random crap, that's actually kind of embarrassing."
"A bisexual talking pigeon. Extremely, even. Well, sure, but are the boy talking pigeons as susceptible to flattery?"
<Some. Maybe just one,> he says. <Maybe I'm lonely and have imaginary friends. Or maybe I'm in hiding and can't talk about who I know in case you get grabbed by an evil cult that's interested in talking pigeons.>
"Evil anti talking pigeon cult. So is this the part where tomorrow I meet a talking raven that tells me you're up to no good and then I have to choose sides and find a magic sword and fulfill a prophecy? Because I'm so there, let's do it."
He giggles. <Sorry, I'm all out of magic swords,> he says, peck-nibbling her fingers affectionately.