Padca truly loved his work - many would even say he loved it too much, and that he would benefit from "having a life". As far as Padca was concerned, books were life - his solace and work.
Naturally he loved the library as well - an entire building full of books, a bastion of learning, the most soothing environment he'd ever found, and he got to work there as he pleased now.
When "going to work" was rather more like "coming home", why would he ever want to spend time elsewhere?

Ahem, anyway, the point being that he does love the library. Even if right now he was fighting a frustration that was all too common in his most favorite of places - being unable to locate a book. The system in place was wonderful, practically perfect, with only room to argue about what section books ought to go into - and that was just invigorating discussion! (Even if the other librarians viewed it rather differently)
But misplaced books! How hard was it to put a book back in its proper place?? Just return it where you found it! Everything is labeled and if you cannot recall, there are many working here - himself included! - that could put it away for you! Finding books in all manner of places was endlessly frustrating, and looking for such misplaced books ate up precious time.

Deep breaths Padca, your master always told you so, deep breaths and relax ("or you'll give yourself an ulcer boy, I swear"). The book was not in its place, and according to records it had also not been checked out. This did not bode well, BUT before giving in to the need to scour the entire building, there was one final avenue he could try - checking the few scattered tables. Perhaps the book was already being read, or sitting in a pile with others, by one of the various scholarly sorts who stopped in to work and study. He sincerely hoped that was the case - he'd rather know where the book was than be faced with a building-wide search, even if he had to wait to use it.

The first few occupied tables bore no fruit - just folks blinking at him as he stopped to inspect the spines of their chosen reading - but at the table nestled further back he was stopped in his tracks. Not due to finding his elusive book, no - there was someone at that table, but Padca couldn't properly make out their features as they were currently using a book as a pillow.
It was even open!!
Oh gods above, why?? The pages were going to end up creased! And the possibility of facial oils, basically impossible to remove! What if their mouth was open???

Thoroughly horrified, though with irritation just around the corner, Padca quickly approached the table and rapped on it sharply with gloved knuckles.
"Excuse me?? Please wake up. You are mistreating that book terribly."

On an otherwise lovely and unremarkable day, while a rather tall man with dark hair paused out of the passing foot-traffic to look at the shopfront practically overflowing with flowers, a passing beast of burden spooked and startled badly. Before it could be brought back under control, its thrashing shook the heavily laden cart behind it, rocking the huge containers dangerously until they tipped too far - the snapping of wood as the wheel collapsed proceeded the crunch of the side of the cart as all the containers broke free.

While there was a lot of startled yelling and scrambling out of the way, most folk had instinctively shied away as soon as the animal bellowed and began to struggle, the rest moving after to give a wide berth once the overburdened wagon began to rock. Had one lone man not seemingly missed all the signs of danger, the accident would have been only a terrible mess rather than a tragedy. Instead, the stranger had turned just enough to glance back at the danger as it collapsed directly atop him, and in an instant he disappeared beneath hundreds of pounds.

A silent moment of shock passed, eerily still, before the small crowd erupted into noise and action.
Was that man dead?? Somebody needed to call for a healer! Where were all the able-bodied folk, they needed to start lifting those crates! Surely he had not survived that?? You're responsible, over packing the cart like that! Everyone step back, things could still shift and fall! What made the animal spook like that??

Then the pile abruptly shifted, causing another ripple of panic, before the bloodied figure of a man re-appeared, standing carefully as he easily shifted aside the various crates and barrels and sacks and such that had previously been crushing him. Other than being disheveled and, uh...the blood...he seemed otherwise unperturbed as he blinked a bright blue eye at the crowd now staring back at him.

"I am alright."

"HO THERE!!"
A booming voice carried easily in the calm afternoon air, seeking the attention of the newcomer. From the homestead on the other side of the fence, the owner of the voice strode forward with one arm raised in a vigorous wave. He was a towering mass of a man, dressed for physical work (that had clearly already imparted smears of dirt and such all over him) in rugged boots, simple pants, and a shirt with a plunging neckline due to half the buttons being undone, his brightly smiling face framed by a wild mane of long red-orange hair that he had once again forgotten to tame into a braid. His long legs made short work of the distance, stopping just on the other side of the fence so he could rest his fists on his hips and smile down at Rosie from close range.

"Good afternoon, neighbor! Welcome to the coast! Name's Rheinallt, live just yonder so if you ever need anything just give a holler! It's great to finally meet you - you've had the whole town a-titter since we heard this place was finally getting used again. Nothing bad, mind - spicy rumors are usually my fault! - but you know how it is, anything new is exciting and everyone's gotta talk about it."

The peaceful dark was shattered with a cheery shout and pounding knock, triggering a chaotic cascade of noise. From somewhere beyond the house there was the fluttering of many feathers and a few wing beats, a single sharp irritated screech piercing the air. From within the house came the muffled thump of something heavy hitting the floor, a low curse, then the rattle and thunk of something being run into, another low curse, and finally heavy footsteps rapidly approaching.

The door was wrenched open - not angrily but purely out of tired clumsiness - to reveal a very tall, very disheveled, very under-dressed man. Standing in his small clothes and blinking blearily down at his guest, Rheinallt scratched at his messy mane of red-orange hair while his groggy brain worked to recognize who on earth had opted to bang on his door before the asscrack of dawn. The slow realization grew along with a smile, until his characteristic beaming fully replaced the sleepy fugue. Not even being freshly awoken could stop his booming enthusiasm.
"Eireann!! You're back!"

He had barely finished speaking before he was scooping her up into a squeezing hug, unbothered about standing on his porch nearly-naked to do so - frankly anyone living here had probably seen his whole pale ass at least once.
"What has my favorite troublemaker been up to?? Come in, come in!"
Dropping her back onto her feet, he eagerly motioned for her to follow him inside the darkened home. His destination was the kitchen, and more specifically the hearth, which he squatted in front of to begin stirring the embers and get a proper fire started again. He had a guest, after all! First priority was feeding her!

Padca blinked down at Kyran, a little bemused at being taken so literally - well, perhaps that was best anyway given their first interaction not being much better honestly. It was even a little charming, perhaps?
...it really did not benefit him to find this half-demon charming.

Besides, he now had to (quickly) decide what to do about the extended hand. Ordinarily he staunchly avoided this - and was not afraid to tell others no. Despite this, he worried that refusing Kyran's handshake after such a rocky start would once again cause him to deflate and resemble that pitiful puppy.
Ah, but they were meant to be 'starting over', right? And perhaps, in the interest of trying to avoid MORE misunderstandings, he ought to just be upfront...
Ahh, books were so much easier...

Clearing his throat, Padca carefully folded his hands back behind him and gave Kyran a small bow.
"Well met Kyran, I am Padca. Thank you very much for the gifts - they are my favorites. I apologize for any offense given, but I prefer to avoid handshakes."
Speaking of the gifts, he eyed them critically for a moment before turning on his heel and striding right out of the study. He was not gone long before returning, leaving the door carefully ajar.

"I have called for someone to bring water and utensils - it is a bit of an odd request so it may take a moment to arrive."
Worries about the temperature and texture of their food would have to be settled at that time, though Padca was never one to waste food if he could help it. In the meantime, he took the chance to begin carefully clearing his desk of books and papers, slowly unearthing the wooden surface. He would not abide any chance of the precious tomes becoming dirtied.

He was just finishing up when one of the young library helpers nervously poked their head in, gaze immediately flicking to Kyran before they spoke.
"U-Um, sir...? I have the items you requested...?"
Padca straightened and turned to address them, back to his normal self - that is to say, stiff-backed and rather frowny.
"Yes, thank you. Please bring them and place them on the desk here."
The young helper jerkily nodded before scurrying in, depositing their task, and then all but fleeing the room again with the quiet click of the door. Padca either didn't notice their behavior, or was used to it, for he immediately set to organizing their impromptu lunch. The forks (as he wasn't about to attempt sending someone out to hunt down chopsticks specifically) went onto cloth napkins next to the bowls, then the two small glasses he'd asked for, into which he poured some of the water from the little metal pitcher of water - the rest was carefully put into the vase for the flowers. Looking over his work, he nodded with satisfaction.
"That will serve. I suppose it's lunch time?"

"You are quite welcome. I am only sorry I could not do more to alleviate your suffering."

And then both women were choking - not in a potentially lethal way, thankfully, but the synchronized nature was a bit odd. What were the odds an emotional reaction might cause them both to 'choke'...? Was that perhaps another mortal response? Fascinating, if not a bit worrisome.

Pyr blinked between the two women, blank-faced as always but clearly somewhat puzzled by their reactions.
"I admit I only have what is likely a very limited understanding - I have not yet been in this realm so long as to have learned all I might want to. As all of the human body deteriorates with age, I imagine your comment serves as a warning that your womb would likely not be capable of producing more offspring? This is not of concern - the value is that it is a womb that once carried a Nephilim."

"Ah, I apologize if I caused any discomfort. It is not a common ability in this realm, but as it seems you may end up dealing with angels and other demons at some point in the future, shielding would be wise as it is fairly common among us."

To Loretta's words, he was a bit disappointed. If that truly was the extent of it, he would not find much avenue for bargaining there.
"Hmm, is that all? A practiced two-way communication method and the familiarity of time and trust? I had hoped you were more touched by dragon influence than that - like a soulbond, or a connection to their magic, or even an exchange of flesh. No matter, it would only have made my attempts to find something of value to request from you easier, that is all."

Back to square one, such as it was. Something of value...something of value...what matched this mother's desire to see her daughter safe awhile longer? Parental connections were foreign to Pyr, and they were terribly inconsistent, but ones like Loretta's were quite powerful. It was fascinating, but at this moment also causing Pyr a bit of trouble. Hmm...though perhaps...therein might lay something of value...? Unique, if nothing else.
"Would you be willing to give up your womb?"

"Ah, I understand. Very reasonable. I do not believe it impossible for you to master the art of speaking without spoken words - you seem to have had a skill for it with beasts already. Speaking in this manner with various sentient creatures takes practice, and many may be able to block your attempts - on that note, you may wish to learn how to do this yourself in the future. Shielding your mind is a useful skill."

Pyr nodded his head slightly in acknowledgement about the threats he would be 'willing' to face - her assumption was not misplaced, truly.
"That is a solid proposition, well done. I wish to note that your assumption is sound, and that it is my own personal circumstances that complicated matters. As I have mentioned - I am already under a Contract of sorts, and so I must still work within its confines while negotiating with you. It may seem strange, but it is far easier for me to interfere with other-realm influences. Ah, now then."

He rolled over the proposal in his mind a few times, considering. While he was certainly being far more lax than any demon had right to be, he did still desire a proper trade for his time and effort.
"I will say this is perhaps on the upper limits of what a 'bargain' might be considered, as I am greatly extending what I consider 'reasonable' for the sake of the bonds of friendship I have accepted from Aya. I only say this to warn you it would not likely be possible with other demons - I am an outlier in all ways, and would not want you to have mis-formed opinions on what is permissible with the vast majority of my kind. You are asking for something that, for both of you, is of rather great value - naturally this inspires an answering desire for value in return. And as I warned before, a bargain is not binding - either side can choose not to uphold their end, and would fear only what consequences the other party might enact. You...should realize that this puts you at a severe disadvantage, being the mortal. There is often a considerable power imbalance inherent to these negotiations, and it is rarely in the mortal's favor. I ask you keep this in mind should you ever negotiate with others."

Being one who had never truly had reason to negotiate with mortals, this experience was quickly becoming rather eye-opening as to why demons had such poor reputation in most realms. If most mortals were entering into negotiations without truly understanding all the rules and nuances, they were ever at a severe disadvantage that they likely didn't realize until it was too late. Pyr had always found the concept of demons being considered duplicitous rather odd, as there was perhaps no other being so firmly bound by their word - now he was realizing it was likely due in large part to a difference in perspective. Clearly what demons often saw as being shrewd and clever, mortals instead considered dishonest and misleading.

In any case, the truly difficult part was next - what might balance the scales against Aya's month-long safety from potential otherworldly attacks? It wasn't that Pyr thought this task particularly difficult or onerous - on the contrary it would likely be interesting, even enjoyable. The point was the value Loretta placed on this task, which was in actuality rather high. It was a bit troubling to think of something a fairly mundane mortal might be able to give him of similar value.

Ah. Fairly mundane. But not entirely. Loretta had a connection to a dragon, after all.
"Explain to me the nature of your connection to your dragon, please."

The energy Pyr still had wrapped around Aya's own, a precautionary measure, faintly rippled as she awkwardly attempted to re-establish a path of communication. This was enough to alert him that something was going on, even if he did not know it was a deliberate attempt to get his attention.

"Is something wrong Aya? Your energy fluctuated."

Outwardly he showed not a single sign of having noticed anything, nor that he was speaking to Aya at all. His attention was still calmly in place with Loretta and her slow building out of a possible bargain.
He considered this most recent attempt, glad to see she was a fairly quick study overall.

"Better. The time frame is reasonable. Unfortunately, you have your threats mixed up. The misfortune that befalls me is of this realm. The threats to Aya you fear - angels and demons - are of other realms. I recommend you re-word this portion of your request."
Honestly the entire back and forth was beginning to feel like a teacher helping a student craft a document - pointing out mistakes, warning of loopholes, clarifying intention. It was a bit amusing to Pyr personally - most demons would never coach the other party after all, it was much better to take advantage where you could.

The shift in mood was felt by all, but perhaps most by Pyr. Some part of him, the part inexorably tied into what it was to be a demon, perked up and strained. But this was not a Contract, nor the third option, and there was nothing to bind them. The urge to do so was there all the same, but Pyr easily ignored it - for now it was best that they were all able to leave this table at any time they wished.

His lips pressed together, which for him was as close to a frown as he might get.
"Your request is too broad. Earlier today I struck a bargain with Aya - 'I will return this shed to its prior state, in exchange you will give me a tour of this place'. Simple enough, straight forward. I did not impose clarifications on Aya for what a 'tour' ought to include, or how long it should be, because I had no specific desires and bargains are meant to be somewhat relaxed. Leaving things vague works in this example, but your request is vague in a way that seeks to cover more, not less. How far? How long? Against what threats? To ask for the 'best of my ability' is not something one gives in a bargain - I do not think you understand what my best ability truly encompasses. I should also note that traveling alongside me is not inherently safe either - events like the ceiling beam falling happen with regularity, and affect those nearest me in time."

It would seem Kyran had a habit of speaking increasingly quickly, as though trying to squeeze everything in his brain out in one breath - at least this time Padca could follow along, sorting through the information even if it was essentially being crunched together and shot at him at high speeds.
By the time his guest was done, Padca was elucidated but unsure how to feel about it - it was both more and less baffling than he expected. He hadn't been incorrect in his assumption that it was meant as a gesture of gratitude, but it was also not entirely correct either (flirty?? He supposed giving flowers was a traditional step in courtship, but was that something you should do for another man you hardly know??)

Looking down at Kyran's slumped form with gentle puzzlement still tugging on his expression, it was once again quickly pulled into a frown at that last comment. It was a knee-jerk reaction, eyes quickly flicking away from Kyran's flushed face and small smile to stare hard at his desk instead. This did not help his uncertainty on how to feel - frankly he wasn't sure that even someone better versed in inter-personal interactions would know what to do with all this. Part of him immediately prickled, unsure if he was being made fun of, if this was something he was meant to just 'brush off' and laugh about (not that he had ever understood such a thing). Who was cute?? What was so nice about snorting and nearly choking on air, turning red and crying?? At the reminder, he dabbed at the damp, red edges of his eyes with a gloved hand - for once they were serving a purpose aside from shielding him from contact with others.

He wanted to be annoyed, to lash out, because it felt safest - he knew that song and dance well, knew how to keep people at a distance. Unfortunately he couldn't quite shake the feeling that Kyran had been, at all points, wholly genuine in his intentions. It also didn't help that when he became dejected he looked troublingly similar to a kicked puppy or the like - Padca found he really did not like being the one to cause such a reaction.
It was difficult being soft rather than sharp, trying to meet Kyran half way, the words awkward as he tried to pick the right ones.

"You...did not ruin anything. Your reasoning was...sound, I suppose, despite the...hiccups in execution. Utensils can be found, water can be added to the vase - the gesture was kind, so thank you. And...I..."
He let out a heavy sigh through his nose, as his mouth was currently pressed tightly together. He honestly looked a bit like he'd sucked on a lemon, but he was also blushing slowly over his nose. Despite his chilly demeanor he had manners drilled into him and he was trying to be kind despite feeling terribly wrong-footed.
"...thank you for...the compliment."

Ah, now Loretta was speaking with care, as though over-correcting due to the caution he had expounded upon. It wasn't necessary - he was not interested in tricking them, after all - but it was a good habit for the future so he opted not to point that out for now.
Before he could answer, Aya interjected, though to her he simply gave a small shake of the head.

"No, it does not matter unless you were intending to handle the negotiations yourself. Payment comes from the ones making an agreement - any other parties involved in the agreement matter little in that sense. However, as I am your 'friend', I will offer up information that ordinarily a demon would simply assume you already know - and would take advantage of if you did not. Please listen closely."

He held up one long pale finger, as if a teacher making sure his class was attentive, eyes on him.
"Demons function on a series of rules. We are creatures bound by service, for whom power is the ultimate deciding force. There are three main ways by which a demon will serve, if they are not subjugated outright by someone stronger. Striking a bargain is the first method, and the one you are considering. It is the simplest, least-formal method of exchange, and it is not binding. This means that much like mundane mortal contracts, there is nothing holding you to the agreement outside of such things like trust, honor, or consequences. Because this is so, we generally only make bargains for smaller things, where there is not much at stake, not much to really gain or lose. You could strike a bargain with me, if you kept your wishes and expectations quite low, and understood that if the task requires I meddle too much in this realm's affairs that I will not uphold my end. I will not say it is not possible for us to do this, just that it may not yield the results you are hoping for."

Pyr blinked slowly at Loretta, pondering something. It was possible they did not quite understand what it was to ask a demon for something, anything really. Well, that was perhaps not so strange...most mortals got into trouble with demons because they did not actually understand as much as they thought they did about the process. Most demons took you at your word and did not care to verify if you truly understood what you were about to do - if you did not, that was entirely your own oversight.

Well, in the interest of 'friendship', he could at least endeavor to warn them again.

"You need not seem so desperate - there are once again many paths you may take, you need only decide on one. I...do feel like I must make myself explicitly clear, as I believe you may not understand as well as I had hoped. You do not ask a demon for anything without offering something in return. Naturally not everything needs to be bound with a Contract - there is plenty in small favors and things that can be bartered for without need for formalities. Our realm would be quite stymied by tedious negotiations otherwise. Regardless, the core rule remains the same - nothing for free."

"Yes, that is a concept on which spells can be built. Depending on the various factors involved, the spell itself will vary in complexity. Blood versus essence, range, sensitivity, accounting for Samuel actively masking himself and in what manner he has done so - there are many elements to account for, but it is not impossible."

He was again back to his seemingly unflappable self, poised and calm at the table.
"As I mentioned before, there are many options you might consider in approaching this problem. There is no one solution."

Pyr expelled a long gust of air from his nose, like he might actually be sighing. Not in frustration, but rather he felt somewhat resigned.
"Yes, what you say is true. Quite frankly though, I do believe you will both need to sign the Contract."

He finally looked at them again, observing them together, mother and daughter side-by-side.
"So long as you both are able to agree to what - specifically - you will be requesting from the Contract, you will be able to shoulder the payment together. This will make it at least somewhat more likely that you will be able to offset the cost of this. Please be in accord with each other on this first, take what time you need to do so. The forging of a Contract begins with the negotiations - neither side will be permitted to back out until a Contract is made, not without incurring penalties. I must stress again that you both need to be certain of what you want and how willing you are to get it before you agree."

Pyr actually shifted in his seat, as though uncomfortable, a rare outward display for him. His face was still a blank mask, but his gaze was fixed on the newly re-emerged Aya.
Despite being prompted for a response, the High-Demon in question remained silent for a very long moment indeed, perfectly still.

Finally, long after the pause had become socially uncomfortable, Pyr stirred and flicked his gaze down to his folded hands.
"Your mother is...correct in saying that it would not be...wise. I understand that being bestowed the title of friendship indicates a certain expectation of support and aid, and I do genuinely wish to help you. However, I am...concerned about the logistics of forging a Contract with one such as myself."
Pyr's gaze flicked away from them both, and one of his fingers tapped the table once - for him, this was practically squirming. Frankly he was feeling a bit embarrassed about all this, despite being generally committed to stating things as they are - which he still was, of course, just...

"I am a Fallen one, this is correct. But I am...in the highest tier of power. For my realm, there are no demons that rank above me. It is lucky that I am already manifested in this realm, as it would be effectively impossible for either of you to manage the power needed for the summoning alone, but the Contract itself poses a problem still. Contracts are built upon equivalent exchange - both parties give and receive something of equal value. That said, every being has a different perception of what has 'value'. I am...concerned that you will not be able to offer me something of equivalent value to Aya's life, or safety. Our negotiations will be quite difficult."

Padca's face did...something at Kyran's admission that he didn't read, but he smothered it as quickly as he could. While that genuinely pained him to hear, he knew better than to let his tongue run away with commentary. While he was of firm belief that everyone ought to read, he was also aware enough to know not everyone COULD - and for a variety of reasons, at that. Even if his master (repeatedly) expounded that 'simply not wanting to' was as valid a reason as any other, to Padca's endless bafflement.

Well, he was back to being just as baffled in the here and now as Padca continued to say entirely incomprehensible things. The sentence, the words, made sense but what on EARTH was he talking about??
"Wh...what-"
Then there was a bowl being pushed toward him, which he jerkily grabbed with gloved hands to keep it from ending up on his clothing or the floor should he fail to do so.
"Of-of course I eat, I do not live here-"

Turning around to track Kyran's whirlwind movement, he was unable to do anything to halt the partial destruction of his desk's contents, still befuddled into ineloquence and holding a bowl of noodles awkwardly in front of him. Kyran's shout made him jerk, wide eyes swinging up to watch Kyran smack his own forehead...only to hear him lament the lack of utensils.
What...
How...
....????

Confused to the point of helplessness, Padca suddenly snorted. He immediately pressed his lips as tightly together as he could, but his shoulders began shaking immediately after as he desperately attempted to hold back the somewhat hysterical laughter building up in him. Another snort escaped him, shivering with it until he bent over and a peel of giggles burst out of him. Still holding that damn bowl of noodles, he laughed so hard he cried, tears running down his flushed cheeks as he tried to suck in air enough to speak.
"What...what kind of -heehee!-absurd creature is -pffft- is in my office r-r-right now??"
Another burst of laughter and then he was wheezing and giggling and trying to wipe his cheek against his shoulder somewhat uselessly.
"I don't...I have never been so...what on earth, do I not eat he says?? I-I'm not a plant! Hahaha...wildflowers in-in a vase with no water...and...not a single utensil! I cannot...Ohhh...hehehe...I haven't laughed that hard in ages...ah gods..."

Finally he seemed to regain his senses, breathing slowly as he clutched his stomach with one gloved hand, the other finally depositing the poor noodles on a clear surface before he really did drop the damn thing. Bracing himself against the desk, he could only stare up at Kyran with still-watery eyes and a bewildered sort of smile.
"Can...we please start this interaction over again? Just...start from the beginning and explain to me in detail why you are here with two bowls of noodles, wildflowers in an empty vase, and no utensils? Please I...I promise I am not poking fun I am just desperately confused."

"Mm, your reaction was reasonable. His initial assumption was reasonable as well. Angels are not capable of sexual reproduction, as a general rule. Explaining the specifics is likely not permitted, so the simplest reason is that they are not made to do so. Angels are not naturally in a human-like form - this is a shape they often take in order to be more easily perceived by mortals, something their minds will easily understand and interface with. I have done the same with my own frame, for example. Now, while it is true that knowledge is dangerous, I believe ignorance is the other edge of that blade. I imagine his fear superseded his good sense, thus leaving you with a lesser plan of action than would have been ideal. This too is not unreasonable - it is a simple thing for a God to snuff out mortal lives, and Gods are nothing if not fickle, which is a fact he would have well known. Aya's existence is in danger not due to taboo, but because she is an unpredictable variable with unchecked power - it is simply unwise to leave her be."

He watched Loretta, unblinking, for another moment. If one watched him in return, it would become suddenly apparent that he was still - still in a way that living things normally were not.
Well, as it happened Pyr did often forget mundane things like breathing but this body was far removed from his true self so he should be given credit for only having some uncanniness.
"I imagine you are wary of the concept of demonic summoning, but you could call me an expert in this field. Before moving forward, I recommend you plan out what exactly you wish to ask for. Well, what Aya wishes for truly. Is it a mentor you require, to learn how to wield the powers? A more permanent spell to hide them away again? To remove the angelic essence entirely? To track and find Samuel? To hide from the gaze of Samuel's particular God? There are many ways in which you may approach this problem, many solutions you could choose. I recommend you consider your options carefully."

Padca blinked rapidly like he'd just received a blow to the head, all his impressive brainpower grinding to a halt in the face of...whatever this was.
Frankly he'd expected this to be some sort of prank (of which he'd been on the receiving end of too many in his youth), or perhaps if he were feeling more generous it would be a complete lack of understanding of the proper library etiquette (food, really!).

What he did NOT expect was for Kyran's face to fall quite like that - it immediately twisted something inside Padca, making him wince. He was fairly confident that he was right to be irritated, and yet now he just felt rather terrible about it??

Helplessly, Padca opened and closed his mouth a few times, like a fish gasping for water - he may as well be a fish out of water for all he understood what to do in this situation. For some reason Kyran was crushed about the noodles and it was as if they were speaking two different languages - although frankly Padca would at least be able to handle that better than whatever bizarre mishap was happening here.

Finally Padca simply held up one hand to cut off any further fretting over the damn noodles, the other coming up to pinch at the bridge of his nose tightly. Okay. Just...forget about understanding whatever disconnect this was, and focus on not making a further scene at the forefront of your place of employment.
"Let's...just head to my office first. Then we can address...all of that."
He didn't really know where to even begin and so gave a flappy motion at Kyran's everything, then turned on his heel to lead the way back to hallway that would lead to some privacy if not peace.

He considered as he walked: Last they'd spoken Kyran had asked, inexplicably, after his favored food and flower. He now had both in his possession - Padca was entirely unsure as to WHY he chose to do this, but he could...err...well, perhaps view it as a kind gesture?? It was a bit off the mark but it was not uncommon to bring gifts for your host or as thanks, so perhaps Kyran was attempting similar in gratitude for his help?
He cast around for other probable answers, but frankly could not come up with any. By the time they were both finally hidden behind closed doors, Padca had resigned himself to being confused but grateful for the gesture.

Taking a fortifying breath, Padca turned around to face Kyran and his bizarre collection of gifts (??) again.
"I...apologize. I did not intend to be rude regarding your...gifts. I simply...well to be honest, I was blindsided by the audacity of bringing food into a library. I should not need to tell you that food is forbidden in a place full of delicate books and paper like this."
He realized with some horror that he'd grown sharp again at the end, despite trying to be genuine. With a sigh his shoulders relaxed and he had the good grace to look properly sheepish about his behavior.

"I apologize, again. I believe you are trying to do something kind for me, and I am not being very grateful. Whatever misunderstandings aside, I...I do appreciate the effort you went to, at the very least. You did, in fact, get the correct dish and...and even the correct flowers."
He gave a sort of confused little smile as he looked down at the vase tucked under Kyran's arm.
"I would not have expected to see them in a proper vase of all things, they're practically weeds they grow so wild."

Pyr watched Aya flee, bemused at the behavior, but he could only defer to Loretta's greater experience and knowledge in the matter of her daughter's needs. Time it was then - he supposed there was nothing so pressing he couldn't simply tell her later after all.

He turned the full of his outward attention to the mortal still in his presence, curious to know what her answer would be to his question. When he finally received it, his head tilted slowly as he pondered it. More bits of knowledge to be filed away, fitting together to form a larger picture even if incomplete. It took him a moment to fully consider his words before he addressed things one by one in that smooth, unchanging voice of his.

"It is true she may not forgive you - children rarely have the luxury of choice in their own creation. The circumstances she now has are entirely based upon the decisions you and Samuel made, though I would say that of the two of you Samuel earns the larger burden of responsibility. He knew of himself, he knew of his situation, he knew of the danger. You did not, until he saw fit to tell you. It was an unwise decision, but I lack any true understanding of siring offspring, so I cannot say I know what might have tipped the scales against all the dangers and risks. I must say I am most confused by Samuel's choices in all of what you have told me - he is the Angel, the point from whence all this originates, and yet he is not here. Why leave the human parent to watch over the Nephilim offspring? Why expect the human parent to find a suitable mentor? If I understand what's been left unsaid, it does not seem that you expect Samuel to return, correct? I cannot understand this choice. Who else could be expected to teach his offspring? Angels, like demons, largely reside in other realms and do not often cross over without cause to do so. Unlike demons, angels do not have an established means of summoning - they are sent rather than called after all. Finding an angel who has fallen from Grace, like Samuel, would be even less realistic as they are likely to be actively hiding their presence."

He paused there, blinking slowly as he rolled the situation over in his mind. He should really like to know what Samuel the angel was thinking - had he simply panicked? Was that likely for an angel without grace but not yet Fallen? He did not have enough information, so many missing pieces, it was becoming quite the engaging puzzle box.
"For all that, the only other beings who understand angelic power are demons - specifically the Fallen ones. For a mortal such as yourself, the most feasible solution would be to forge a Contract with one such High Demon."