'Bakery' sounded simple enough. Bake. Bakery. A place where people baked things. But X had no clue what a 'grocery store' was, and promptly forgot to ask in the face of experiment potential.

It still amazed X that he didn't have to bake the bread himself, or help someone else do it, but he'd long since passed by that shock.

The brand-new shock, instead, was how even before they made it inside the small shop, there were so many different kinds of bread for sale. X had to examine every single different kind, eyes wide and wondering, measuring them with the toaster he held like the toaster was some sort of ruler.

"Are you a living rock?" X asked out of the blue. If there was anything that prompted the question, he didn't volunteer it.