The pencil is still in Chip’s hand when Glitch crosses the square and stops so quickly that Mo lowers his mug.

“There you are.” Glitch turns the pencil until its three teal marks face upward, then taps the matching marks on a golden-yellow sketchbook. “I lost this during an extremely productive afternoon.”

Socks brightens. “How productive?”

Glitch considers the question with professional seriousness. “That depends on whether you measure productivity by completed assignments or by compelling evidence of momentum.”

Chef Crumbs raises one eyebrow. “Those sound like different totals.”

“Wildly.” Glitch accepts the pencil from Chip and inspects its point. “Thank you. I checked every pencil cup except the places the pencil actually was.”

Dozer adjusts the blanket from which it was recovered. “It had a quiet afternoon.”

Glitch laughs and gestures toward a cozy doorway near the edge of the square. “Come see what it started.”

Chip follows first. “For the record, I was already holding it responsibly.”