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"Why, you are far too kind Mr Moray," Emmy said after Keir had praised her, twirling once to show off her outfit before bowing with a flourish and a wink. "And entirely spot-on. Good morning!" She gave him a quick hug in greeting as he guided her inside, and turned to give him a quick once over. Her lips twisted into a half amused, half pouty sort of smile as she noted he was wearing the usual. Jean, shirt, and hoodie. It was what he wore when he was in his study mode, and by the looks of it, he had been in this mode for more than a few days. She looked at the state of his flat, clean as usual—of course, one should expect nothing less from Keir—but with an evident spattering of his notes. It was no wonder she'd hardly heard from him this week. 

"Just had tea with the crew actually. Thanks though," she said as she plopped down on his couch and grabbed a sheet of paper lying about, trying to make heads or tail of all the numbers and diagrams he'd scribbled on it and failing horribly. She crinkled her nose. Just looking at his notes gave her a headache; too many formulas and laws and numbers involved! This was why she was an arts and English person. Less complicated for her. She always wondered how Keir managed to be amazing in both areas...though she supposed he has been neglecting the arts side for quite a bit now. At this, she made a face at him, donning the playfully condemning expression she always used when she was confronting him about it.

But as it was, even pretending to be mad at Keir was a challenge. It was no use! The boy was utterly [i]unhateable[/i], even if he did make her cry about his wasted potential on a daily basis. Okay, so she was exaggerating, but she stands by her point. She knew deep inside he'd rather take a shot at a career in music. Keir would do so, so well in the industry, she just knew it. But he was good with all his science-y things as well, and he was putting so much effort into it that she feared he would be heartbroken when things don't work out for him. See that? One would think being so conflicted and frustrated over someone else's career choices would be good grounds to dislike a person, but nope, not him. Never him. 

Emmy grinned to herself, making a note to knock down the pedestal she put him on a few pegs. "ADR session went brilliantly! Done after two takes," she recalled excitedly, preening a bit. Other people might think it unbecoming or arrogant, but she quite liked to rejoice when she did her job well. She prided herself on her dedication to her craft, after all. "It won't be released for a couple of months, but I'm warning you now, I'll be dragging you to the premiere."

Keir started playing with his guitar then, and Emmy beamed. He looked exactly like someone who'd been withheld from doing something he loved for far too long. For a while, she hummed along with the tune he played. Then she started adding her own lyrics to it, singing about the woes of the hardworking Uni student. She played with him like that for a while, just enjoying his accompaniment (it had been a while since they've done this!), before an idea struck her.

"I was just going to throw some impromptu karaoke party in here, but since you've clearly taken to the ways of the hermit, I'm thinking we need to get you some fresh air. Look how pasty you've become!" Emmy laughed as she hopped off the couch and started pulling her friend up. "Come on then, we can go wherever you want, as long as it's outdoors. We can even drop by Aldi so you don't starve to death."

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"A book," Cyrill repeated, his tone sarcastic without meaning it to be (it was sort of his default), as his eyes followed where her finger pointed. [i]Music and Melody[/i] stood out from the many books in the shelf, with its title embossed in gold right at the spine. He quirked an eyebrow but said nothing, and only nodded as he went to retrieve the book. It was obvious to him what Phaylin would need it for. In fact, he remembered he meant to give it to her at one point, after he had finished reading it, which was quite some time ago. The thick layer of dust that coated it suggested it's been months, at the very least. He probably forgot again, but he supposed that didn't matter anyway, it all worked out. In any case, while he found it of little interest, finding it irrelevant to his studies, he certainly hoped Phaylin would find it more useful.

"Here."

Cyrill tossed her the book before grabbing the basket she offered hungrily, digging into an apple like he hadn't eaten in days. He made himself comfortable on top of his desk—for reasons he could never figure, he just felt better on the desk rather than the chair—and grabbed another fruit from the basket as he waited for Phaylin to get on with the point. If it were anyone but Phaylin talking with him now, they could very well misconstrue the face he was making as one of blatant disinterest and think him rude. But in truth, that slightly annoyed expression, with his eyebrows knitted together and the corner of his lips pulled down, was his resting face. He was actually a really good listener. 

The woods, huh? 

He pondered her proposition for a moment, weighing the pros and cons as he usually did. First off, it seemed entirely troublesome. There was nothing he hated more than exerting physical effort when it was perfectly avoidable, especially under the sun's heat. Before, he even thought that going outside was nothing but a waste of time, but someone eventually convinced him that it was a necessary evil. He supposed it did have merits, prancing about the woods. A change of environment might do him wonders, get him out of his listless stupor, and he could do with some foraging himself. He'd just read about [i]Sanguinaria Canadensis[/i], or bloodroot, as was its more common moniker, and he was interested in its toxic properties. The healers have used it for their salves, but he knew it would be better off used in poisons.

Cyrill nodded slowly, trying not to look as eager as he felt, even though it seemed his friend felt the same way. Speaking of, it seemed it was always Phaylin that manages to bring him out of his worse slumps. He supposed he should thank her for that, he thought as he glanced at her. Probably not today, though. "Sure," he said offhandedly, as though he was only agreeing because he had nothing better to do. His lips had turned into a small lopsided smile, even though he was trying hard to fight it off. "I need my weekly dose of sunlight anyway." 

He jumped off his desk and grabbed a pack hanging from a hook on his wall, quickly filling it with empty vials he picked up from the shelf and a small box that held his tools of the trade. If they were going, they best do it now while he still felt motivated to do so. Cyrill kicked through his messy heap (of organized chaos) and walked passed Phaylin as he made his way to the front door.

"Waiting on you now."