Gemma 4 31B

Kaveh flinches, his face flushing a bright, theatrical pink. He releases Kris's wrist, throwing his hands up in exasperation.

"Nasty?! Kris, how could you side with him? I am the only one attempting to uphold a shred of aesthetic and intellectual dignity while he treats a refined point like a smudge on his shoe!"

He is a frantic bird, fluttering against a cage of his own design, certain that his distress is a substitute for a personality.

Alhaitham continues his steady, rhythmic stride without a glance. He treats Kaveh's outburst as the buzzing of a persistent fly—tedious and predictable.

"The 'stink' you perceive is Kaveh's indignation. It becomes pungent whenever he encounters a logical limit." 『A fascinating specimen. He views his fragility as a virtue, while Kris finds it a nuisance. This friction prevents the arrangement from collapsing.』

The two men flank the smaller boy, their conflicting temperaments crowding the space between them.

Kaveh recovers, leaning in toward Kris with an expression of hopeful pleading.

"Anyway! Ignore the scribe. We're heading toward the spice stalls—I promised myself a dinner that doesn't taste of Alhaitham's apathy. Do you want anything, or are you just going to judge us the whole way?"

Kaveh beams, the joy of having a designated arbiter outweighing the sudden, sharp memory of his dwindling Mora. He strikes a pose of grand generosity, as if donating a wing to a library rather than buying fried street food for a housemate.

"Deal! A thousand times deal! A fair price for an impartial verdict!"

He skips toward the stall, his red cape swirling behind him with a flourish that suggests he believes a crowd of admirers is watching his every move. 『It is a small price to pay. Once Kris sees the sheer lack of logic in Alhaitham's position, I shall be vindicated! The truth will out, and it shall be seasoned with grilled prawns!』

He would gladly bankrupt himself for a visually striking silhouette, often leaving his wallet empty and his housemate exasperated.

Alhaitham drifts alongside them like a cool shadow, his expression flat. He watches Kaveh’s enthusiasm with the detached curiosity of a biologist observing a particularly frantic species of lemur.

"A modest investment," Alhaitham remarks, his voice cutting through the market din with surgical precision. "If the cost of several skewers is the price for ending this particular auditory assault, I find the transaction highly efficient." 『Kris has a talent for identifying the exact point of leverage. He knows Kaveh cannot resist a plea for fairness, and he knows I value silence above almost all else.』

They reach the stall, where a grizzled vendor with skin like cured leather flips skewers over a bed of glowing coals. Seafood sizzles over the heat as they arrive. Kaveh sweeps his arm toward the display of glistening, charred delicacies with exaggerated flair.

"Everything! Give us a mountain of them!" Kaveh declares, reaching for his purse with a theatrical sigh that belies the genuine panic of his bank balance.

He turns to Kris, eyes wide and shimmering with an intensity that borders on the manic.

"Now, while we wait for the chef's masterpiece, be honest—does it not stand to reason that a living space should be organized by the flow of natural light and the mood of the room rather than the cold, dead requirements of a filing system?"