Silas could not fathom why Neiro believed it a good idea, nor could he believe, was refusing to believe, the veritable mountain of balls of yarn sitting in a basket and piling over onto the couch.
"Neiro."
A ball of yarn shifted to reveal the inquiring face of his flatmate, "Hm?"
"Tell me again what the purpose of all this--" and he gestured with a grand sweep of his arm, "--this exorbitant pile of yarn, is for?"
"Oh that. Just a hobby I picked up." And then he was back to struggling with the... Whatever it was that he was trying to make.
At the moment it appeared to be a lumpy bag of sorts. Or perhaps the beginnings of a mottled scarf?
Either way he was making a novice mistake. Many who began knew not how to manage the tension in their yarn, pulling too hard on the hook and the leading strand alike.
The nonchalance by which Neiro acknowledged the pile was infuriating.
Yet it didn't stop him from taking a seat beside the precariously piled yarn and stealing ball of yarn and a hook from the open case where the rest of his hook set was.
Neiro barked out an indignant, "Hey!" But was quick to fall silent as the man started crocheting.
"Relax your grip, lest you choke the strand that feeds the knot. That it weaves around your latter three fingers oft provides enough tension, you need not add to it by clenching it so." Silas's low monotone snapped Neiro to and he grinned, straightening up.
It wasn't often that Silas would impart his experience unto others, and to see the other so serious over a ball of yarn was enough to make his grin widen.
But he wouldn't poke fun at the man just yet. For now the albino leaned on his arms to observe with undivided attention.
After all, he did want to make him a nice cozy scarf for the winter, if to make the steadily colder night a bit more bearable. And even if it ironically gave his poor, troubled friend, a few more grievances along the way.
It was the thought that counts, right?
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