Chapter Text
Roman didn't see the borrowers the next day, as he glued some last decorations onto his book. He tried to tell himself not to check on them, because it wasn't like he was their keeper or anything. The last time he'd seen them was when he'd helped them out of the sink after their shower (which they'd used fully clothed, since they had sparkles all over their clothing as well).
Still, it was hard. They were roommates, in his mind, and he really did want to know how they were doing.
Finally, near the end of the day, he'd finished his book. He put it up on a shelf in his room - after checking to make sure he wasn't going to squish anyone (there was nobody there) - and settled down at his desk to doodle some more.
Then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw a purple flash.
He tried not to move - if that was Virgil, that borrower was more skittish - and merely looked harder with his peripheral.
Virgil was creeping up onto the edge of the desk. He was wearing a different black outfit from before. The one he'd worn into the "shower" was black with some faded purple blotches on it. This one had brighter patches that looked like they had elements of plaid in them.
It made sense that the borrowers would have multiple outfits - what if one got dirty or too worn-out for even them to keep wearing, after all? - though it did leave Roman wondering if he should attempt to make some new clothes for them. Would they stand still long enough for him to get accurate measurements?
Virgil crept over to his pencil jar, leaped up, and looked in. He had a pack on his back that was so square something had to be in it.
Without a word, Roman opened up a drawer on his desk, reached in, and retrieved a small tube. Opening it, he shook out some thin graphite sticks and gently pushed them around with a fingertip until he found one that had broken at least twice and was too short for him to put into any automatic pencil. The rest went back into the tube and back into his drawer, and he gently let that piece of graphite roll off his hand onto the desk, pushing a shred of tissue over next to it.
He could almost feel Virgil's eyes on him as he went back to drawing as if he hadn't done anything. Then he heard a quiet thump, some shuffling, and silence. After a slow count to ten, he looked.
Virgil had sat down with his back against the pencil jar, picked up the square of tissue, rolled it around the graphite so that only a little nub was visible, and started using it to either write or draw in his purple book.
The book looked kind of fuzzy, like Virgil had used somewhat more plush fabric to cover it, and the front cover - about all Roman could see from this angle - had gold lines in a rectangle and an "amethyst stone in a setting" affixed to the high center, aka a purple rhinestone on top of a gold sequin.
Virgil spoke to the book. "I can feel you staring."
Thus given permission - no way was he going to startle Virgil by speaking out of turn and make the borrower ruin whatever he was doing - Roman spoke. "Your book turned out really well, especially since it was your first."
Virgil went still. Then he looked up at him. "Ah. Well...Thanks."
"No problem." Roman dug in another drawer and came up with a kneaded eraser. Carefully pulling a pencil-eraser-sized blob off of it, he rolled it into a ball and gently rolled it over to Virgil. "Here. You know, just in case."
Virgil picked up the little eraser ball with a nod, set it on his other side, and the drawing buddies went back to work.