They comply with Padparadscha's instructions, taking the cloth and carefully cleaning the remaining powder from their fingers. It's a good thing that this experiment is taking place indoors and out of sight of the gyroshei, because Antarcticite is all silvery sparkle and gleam and glitter now without the powder covering them up; no massive magpie would be able to resist such a prize.

"...I think having our cover washed away completely is a bit strange for all of us, huh? It often means we've just been fixed."

"It makes me think of Sensei, a little," they admit in a wistful sort of voice. "He is usually the one who had to fix me when I got careless and lost parts of myself. It didn't happen often," they're quick to add, as though being seen as even remotely incompetent in front of Padparadscha is unconscionable to them. "But--sometimes I wasn't fast enough."

They pause in their navel-gazing to look instead at the container Padparadscha is holding, their curiosity piqued. "That's the new cover?" they ask.