Her pruned finger, reminstent of a cave spike in terms of jaggedness, slowly slid across the esca.

"This is a lady anglerfish, the males are...puny things. Parasites of the species."

Within those few minutes, I was learning more about fish than I had learned in the past few years. Wasn't much of an animal-facts guy. But what I sat down for basically boiled down to -- regular fish, probably likes me, similar colors to me, sees me as family. Keep and enjoy a pet fish. Simple enough, but for someone who was more akin to taking care of inanimate ideas and land and property and towers and Sugarteara, the prospect of taking care of something alive, organic, was a bit alien. Seems like the lady had also almost tripped while picking up a heavy bag of. Something. Food. It's fishpellet. Special fishpellet, because anglerfish are carnivorious, meaty ones. Might try one if nobody is looking, if which, please keep an eye out on me.

When all was well said and done, and I was sure of my new responsibility and the pet was back in the bag (it spent more time circling me in quick spiral than fighting back at the bag placement), I stood up. Seems like my horns could reach that shallow ceiling, scraping, and that I should make extra-carefulness to not hit the doorframe again. Small elders called for smaller houses, decorated with sound, scales of rarities, and other knickknacks.

When I closed the door behind me, a few steps, I heard another chime. It was not like the door's bell.