So, the food here is good, but mostly in that it's stable and available and that very very occasionally someone gets a full meal. It's not, like, actually very particularly yummy. There's the food-food, which are basically always boring in nearly the same ways, and then there's the food that you're only supposed to nibble the teeeeeniest bit on, which are more interesting in general but still get pretty old after a while.
It's time to see what else is out there.
"Yeah!" Pat pat.
"This is a sponge," says Cleo, picking up its sponge.
"A... sponge. One sponge. My sponge, your sponge. Our sponges."
"Yeah! You have a sponge. You put it in your sleeve. I drew your sponge," tap, "and I have a different sponge."
"Yeah!"
Dhhhiffrihhnt khkhkhlioh? Dhihhhhfrinnnnnd bhhook? Dhiffrint thhhhewindohhhh?
"There's not a different Cleo, just me. There's different books -" Cleo points at them where they are on the shelf - "and there's a window in the kitchen -" This way!
It comes back. "I'm here! Did you not want to see the different window?"
"That's me, I'm Cleo!"
It doesn't know what to do about the Cleo leaving. It puts a hand on the window.
. . . Aha.
Khhhliowwwwihhhndoh. Whhhhhindohh. Whhindoh.
"Yeah! I'm at the window."
Ahhhhhiiiiimat - ahhhhimmmmmat - hhhh. Aiiiiimat thhhhuhwinnnnnnndoh. Iiiiahh.
"You're at the window too, yeah!"
"Yeah!"
Cleo jumps up and down tastily at the last attempt.
"Talking's hard for you, huh," says Cleo. "Talking usedta be hard for me too."
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