Lune isn't actually in when Maelle knocks on her door, but a few minutes later she comes down the hall, a stack of books under her arm.

"Hey. Looking for me?"

Lune doesn't exactly need the help, but she hands over half her stack anyway. "Thanks. Come on in."

She opens the door on her room—a copy of the small flat in Lumière where she'd moved after her brother's Gommage. She'd gotten rid of most of her family's furnishings, but kept the books, and every shelf and flat surface is covered in them. Even though it still has the trappings of a home—a comfortable sofa, a small dining table and kitchen, and so on—there's a feeling of transience, as if it were a stop along the way rather than a place where someone really lives.

Still, Lune can be a hostess. "Want anything? Tea? Oh, and I've got this for you, if you'd rather use it." On the table in front of the sofa is a pad of paper and a pencil.