Cam is dipping a grilled cheese sandwich into a bowl of tomato soup when he feels the summons. He goes ahead and grabs it. Doesn't even drop the sandwich.
Cam makes a little puff of it. "Heaven's made of it until the angels carve caves out of it to live in," he says, handing it over. "It's interesting stuff."
"Of course. Of course there is such a thing as a 'cloud block'. Which is like that. But squishier."
"I think I'm forgetting some islands, but since I have forgotten them, I cannot fill myself in. Eh."
"Ysail! Right. Island in a pocket dimension which lifts bits of itself into shapes convenient to the master of the Earthstones. It's a good movie. Well, franchise."
"I don't remember nearly as many fictional islands to name things after. I guess being twelve the last time I encountered a work of fiction will do that."
"And you've probably literally never seen a movie. They're sort of like - they have things moving on screens, like video games, but often they're recordings of live actors - though not always, sometimes they're animated - and they tell stories that you watch rather than being games that you play."
"Yeah. Are you going to focus on the Make Cam A Snazzy Fire Tail project or do you wanna watch one soon?"
"I'm very distractible, so I'd better be goal-oriented or I'd never get anything done."
"I have yet to see evidence of you being distractable. Perhaps you've trained yourself out of it."
"I have a rule. Once I've decided to do something, I need a better reason than 'well, I thought of it' to decide to do something else instead."
"Fair enough. Should I hand over my tail now, then, lest you be bored between now and lunchtime?"
He manages without bleeding too much. There is spontaneously appearing gauze involved. He hands her his tail.
Cam leaves her to it and goes to amuse himself chez soi until it is lunchtime. He comes over with a stack of books.
Sable is sitting at her tinkering desk with Cam's tail and a tray of small glowing orbs in various colours, plus some other miscellaneous piles of mysterious junk - thin iron chains, coils of rope, what appears to be a small heap of aglets.