He turned on the light and was greeted with chirps. Scotty was slowly getting used to that.

It was a strange, pretty sound; almost like a cricket, but not quite. Similar, though. Melodic, in a way he hadn't expected it to be. And there were distinctive sort of types of chirps, he had discovered -- a loud, indignant one. A more sharp, menacing one; when Kyle and Grace decided they wanted the same piece of mango, he'd heard that. And then this chirp, which was...

Almost friendly. Kind of curious, kind of greeting.

Then again, he wasn't sure; maybe he was attributing a bit more emotion to the wee little orchid crabs than he should have. But there was no denying that they chirped when the light came on, each time -- on Te Maru, and now here in Room Sixteen of the Red Dragon Inn.

"Aye, I'm workin' on it," he said quietly, as he set the books he had brought for Harold on the end table by the door, and dragged the sand over to where he had roughly framed out the most impressive crab habitat a man could come up with.

It was more than fair sized. It took up a large chunk of the wall by the window, and it was definitely bigger than Scotty had originally planned.

All told, it was five by five feet, all around. Three feet tall. And he already had several stacked bags of sand laying around, as well as some kind of fiber substrate that he had read was good for most kinds of crabs. He had some fine gravel, he had giant plastic fronds to use to block the sunlight. Harold had brought back food, some kind of petrified cactus and a few other things, too, from Mindon for them.

Frankly, these were going to be some spoiled crabs.

Harold was asleep, his PADD self-deactivated on his chest. Scotty slipped over and eased his glasses off, a smile catching him for the first time in hours; he snagged the camera, too, just so he could grab a shot of that, before putting the PADD and glasses aside.

Then he turned to the crabs.

Nameless and Lily didn't chirp the same way; their chirp was more of a squeaking kind of noise, and they didn't do it in greeting.

No, that would be Kyle and Grace. And right now, Grace was sitting there with Nameless sitting right on her back.

Scotty raised an eyebrow, then grinned and headed over to where he kept food for them. They were more than well-fed; their bowls were never empty of orchid powder or cuttlebone or occasionally scraps. But Scotty kept treats that he knew they loved, too.

He pulled the container of berries and fruits down, and heard an insistent chirp. Sounded like Kyle. That wasn't a surprise.

"Are ye gonna behave?" he asked, turning back to eye the temporary plastic cage and the bouncing purple crab within.

Kyle didn't dignify him with an answer, but for a crab, he had some wicked eyesight. He was bouncing on the sand impatiently, knowing what Scotty had.

Scotty slipped over and pulled the lid off of the cage, and immediately, all four of them were conglomerated right in the center of it. Waiting. It was when they did things like that, that Scotty thought maybe he wasn't overestimating their intelligence or emotion.

He put his hand down in the sand, holding the goodies with the other, and immediately, Kyle literally ran up onto his palm, waving a claw and bouncing there. Scotty moved him into the temporarily framed enclosure (no sand yet, but their toys were in there) and set him down, then handed him a blackberry. For his part, Kyle took it politely, then skittered under one of the coconut huts.

Nameless and Lily both mobbed his hand next, and he moved them over before giving them a half a grape each. They didn't run, though, just sat and pulled off pieces and ate them. It was still absurdly neat to watch.

Then came Grace.

She looked at him, and when he put his hand down, she nudged it once with her claw before crawling onto it. But she watched his face, not his fingers, and he sat regarding her for a long moment in turn. And she was a she, too, given those specific little black spots on her back legs and how her apron was framed -- he figured that out reading Harold's care sheet a few days ago.

"Somethin' else, lass," he said, quietly.

Grace raised her claw slightly, feelers wavering. But it didn't really seem so defensive this time.

He gave her a piece of mango, her favorite of the fruits, and she took it. Then he set her down in the wide, not-yet-finished enclosure so she could eat, and sat down himself to watch them.

There was a lot on the young Scot's mind. Silas. What was happening there. What had happened here. Anxiety for being back here. Harold. Everything, really. There was a lot on his mind.

He could never have imagined, in all of his life, that watching crabs eating or playing would be so peaceful.