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Bo watched Othello sit down, then he gently grabbed at his own sandwich and began eating on it. It was an interesting mix of flavors, and he had never had such a thing before, but it wasn't bad. Bo preferred the strawberry over the turkey and the lettuce, mainly because it was sweet, as most kids would prefer. Bo didn't have much to say, and figured that Othello wouldn't mind, since the last time the two exchanged silence and Bo asked about it, Othello said it was okay to not speak when there was nothing to say. Bo just decided to peacefully eat his sandwich, and if Othello wanted to speak to him, he could, and if not, that was okay too.

Once they had started eating, Othello did make an attempt at small talk, mostly because he really didn't want to eat the sandwich and was trying to drag it out. He'd have to eat it eventually, and when he finished, he stood and started cleaning everything up. He tucked the strawberry jam back as far as he could in the corner of the fridge. He had no intention of ever touching that again.

Once the kitchen was cleaned up, he went with Bo to look over Bo's homework and do what he could to help. He really wasn't certain about a lot of Gaian school topics, but at least math was math. Not that he could remember how to do some of the math, but at least it was recognizable!

After that, he retreated to the library and continued his research on Gaia. And hunted down so-called demons. It was rather satisfying to take a chainsaw to a cacodemon even if it was not really a cacodemon. He chose to imagine the pixilated creatures as various problems and obstacles in his life as he destroyed them. Then he went back to research until time to make dinner.

Dinner was pork chops fried with apples. He hadn't thought to get the pork chops out of the freezer in time, but a bit of magic had them thawed to perfection in no time flat. It was a simpler dinner, but good, he felt, and he did attempt to have a short conversation with Bo to make him happy.

After dinner, true to his promise, he attempted Pan Cotta.

It did not go well.

"I am afraid your pancake cots did not come out well," Othello told Bo gravely as he set the watery mess on the table. It wobbled weakly. "It appears more like pancake batter."

Bo walked over to the table, looking at the.. well, whatever it was, because it certainly wasn't panna cotta. "Oh.." Bo looked at it with a look of confusion.
"Well, that's okay! You tried, and that's all that matters." Bo looked up and gave Othello a smile. "Practice might make perfect too, so maybe you can try again some other time." He added.

Bo looked over at the open cookbook and looked at the recipe again, staring at the sticky notes.

The sticky note that said: 'My sweet Bo's favorite dish'
And the torn sticky note that was only to be read as: 'doesn't like it too much' without the other piece of the sticky note.

Bo, however, seemed to know what it was, and the first time he had opened the cookbook to show Othello, he hadn't noticed the second one, but this time he did. Bo took the sticky note out quietly, when Othello wasn't looking, and stuffed the sticky note in his own pocket, then acted as if nothing happened. What was that about?

"Thank you for those words of inspiration," Othello said dryly. He considered saying something about how the only reason he was making this silly jelly dish at all was because Bo wanted it, so if practice made perfect, why didn't Bo give it a try? He reviewed his words in his head, decided they were too harsh for a child so prone to crying, and decided not to say anything for now. He did not want to deal with snot and tears on top of weird failed pudding.

As he was trying to decide whether or not to attempt to eat the failed desert, he noticed Bo taking a note out of the book and pocketing it. He didn't say anything about it because he didn't really care. It was technically Bo's book. Bo could remove or put in whatever notes he wanted. He could set the thing on fire and sew the ashes across the garden if he wanted, and Othello wouldn't say a word to stop him. Actually, Othello might help with it since that would mean he would not have to try to make this inverted cup dessert after all if the recipe went up in smoke.

"I believe there are some cookies in the jar if you would prefer that for dessert," he told Bo. "After that, is there anything you desire to do?"

Bo smiled, not picking up on the dryness of the thank you Othello gave him, then listened to Othello referring to the cookies. "That'll work!" Bo wandered off to go seek the jar, then carefully picked it up off the counter and opened it, reaching inside it. "Anything I desire to do? Uhm, hm.." Bo thought for a moment, wiggling his hand around in the cookie jar before pulling out two cookies, then closed it and put it back on the counter.

"Maybe you can read a bit of a storybook to me?" Bo suggested, before taking a bite out of one of the cookies. "I have one in mind."

"If.. If you want, you don't have to." Bo added, just to make sure he didn't sound demanding, even though he didn't sound that way at all.

Deciding the goop a lost cause, Othello dropped it into the trash, plate and all. He cleaned up the small spills on the counter before turning to Bo. "A storybook? I suppose I can do this, yes. Once we have had cookies." He fetched himself one cookie and held it delicately between two fingers. "What is this book you wish for me to read?"

Bo took another bite out of the cookie and spoke up, "It's called Alice's Adventures in Wonderland. It's a book from 1865." Bo smiled warmly, "I like the strange poems they tell and songs they sing in it, and there's so many interesting characters."

The name meant nothing to Othello, but, as far as he was concerned, one book was like another. Why not read this one and learn more about either real Gaian life or their mythos? He wasn't sure about the songs part. He was not going to sing. Period. Still, he nodded to Bo. "Very well. We shall read this book." He finished his cookie, less than impressed by the slightly stale circle, and indicated for Bo to lead the way.

Bo smiled, finishing his cookies, before wandering to his bedroom, beckoning Othello to follow. "Most books are in the library, but my nanny let me keep this one in my room, because I liked it so much." Bo explained as he walked.

Once the two arrived at the bedroom, Bo wandered inside, glancing around, looking for it, before spotting it on a nearby shelf, and picked it up, gently brushing the dust off of it. Bo held it up to Othello and grinned. "See!" Bo seemed really excited to read a bit of this book. The book was a light blue, with black, red and white stripes down the spine. The cover had an old-fashioned illustration of Alice in a woods made of mushrooms instead of trees, speaking with a blue caterpillar who smoked a hookah. There was a few ink marks and scruff marks on the book, but other than that, it was well taken care of. It even had a built-in bookmark, which was a thin red ribbon, and had little markings that looked like card suits.

Othello took the book with care and looked at it skeptically. What an odd and overly dramatic book for being a child's book. He believed that while people should always make a statement wherever they went - just look at his style of clothing - books should always be unassuming. The more boring the cover, the more powerful and mystical the contents. Still, he highly doubted a Gaian book held anything powerful, so they had to try harder.

"Very well," he sighed. He took a seat and carefully opened the book. He found a poem at the beginning and began to read in a methodical tone.

Bo sat down on the bed, an eager expression on his face as Otehllo sat down and opened the book. Bo listened peacefully, and even, quietly, underneath his breath, read out the poem himself without even seeing the page, which indicated he had read this far too many times, or had it read to him far too many times.

This was a curious book and not quite to Othello's liking, but strange enough and with odd enough characters that reading it was not a complete bore.  He read two chapters to Bo in his methodical way, only giving the slightest inflection to various characters' voices.

"It was high time to go, for the pool was getting quite crowded with the birds and animals that had fallen into it: there was a Duck and a Dodo, a Lory and an Eagle, and several other curious creatures.  Alice led the way, and the whole party swam to the shore."

He closed the book and looked down at Bo.  "And that ends our reading session for today," he stated, handing the book to Bo.  "Do we now have a discussion about what it is we read?"

Bo smiled, enjoying the chapters, and watched as Othello eventually closde the book.

"If you want, we can." Bo was currently laying on his back, looking at Othello upside down. It seemed almost wonderlandish in itself, viewing someone upside down. "What was your favorite part so far? If you had one?" Bo asked. As he rolled back over however, he did flinch, as he had almost forgotten about the terrible burn on his back, but tried not to bring too much attention to it.

"This Alice is a rather vexatious character, but the rest of this story is far more clever than other Gaian books I have read," Othello replied, checking his black nails. "The world is interesting, as are the other characters. I suppose so far I would guess the purpose of this story is to remind children to embrace their imaginative selves and to follow their curiosity. Do you concur?"

"I think concur means agree, so uh, yes I agree! I think." Bo nodded, before sitting up on the bed.

Bo then let out a soft yawn, he seemed to be getting a bit tired, it was getting late, after all.

"I suppose it is time for bed," Othello said, standing up at Bo's yawn. "Go prepare yourself for bed, then, child. I shall put the book away and set up your music."

The end to yet another day, he thought as he placed the book back where it went. How many more of these until he could go home? He waved his hands, creating the instrumental music once more.

Bo nodded and prepared for bed, and he came back to the bedroom and crawled into the bed, allowing Othello to wrap him up, the beautiful, soothing instrumental music playing throughout the room.


If Othello left the room, down the hall, one of the doors was cracked open. Had Bo went inside? Or maybe Belladonna had left it open? Or maybe the door's hinges were faulty.

If looked inside the room, it appeared to be a storage room, most things were uncovered, except for a desk that had a bunch of papers on it, and pinned to the wall almost like a crazy conspiracists' theory board.

It was hard to make out what the papers were from the doorway, so if a closer look was desired, one would have to walk in to view them.