As they take modest strides in the direction of managing this mischief, some of the Fool's harried irritation at last begins to ebb. He sweeps a few more of the daemids out the door and then sighs, leaning against the door frame to draw a wrist across his forehead, pushing his hair back. "No, thankfully," he says and looks back towards where a few of his more elaborate works remain displayed on a small shelf behind the work station.

He kneels down to gather up one of the bibirus into his arms before it can hop out the door, and affectionately strokes the little thing across its downy head while carrying it back towards its fellows. "Are all of these Leo's?"