Ciri laughed. “How'd you guess?”
“I was beginning to wonder if there was something interesting about the ceiling that I'd missed,” Chen returned dryly.
“I guess I was, wasn't I?” Ciri mused. Chen was already returning to his own work, fingers tapping rapidly along his keyboard. Ciri watched him for a moment before asking, “If you had to entertain someone by talking but you couldn't think of anything to talk about, what would you do?”
Chen snorted. “What, like Scheherazade? Is someone looking to execute you or something?” he asked, rolling his eyes. “I don't know. Read them a bedtime story.” He continued to type, not even bothering to turn to look at Ciri, but the younger man didn't notice. He tapped his pen against his cheek, considering the idea.
“A story, huh?” he murmured, looking out the window at the sparrows perched in a tree. Slowly, he broke out into a grin. “Hey, that's a great idea! Thanks!” He held his hand up for a high five, to which Chen responded with a look that could probably have withered fruit on the vine. Ciri let his hand go slack again, but he was still smiling.
Chen heaved a sigh. “Look, if you're not going to work, could you please at least let me? Some of us have our jobs to worry about.”