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[fitzroyal]

Sometime in the middle of the night, Henry is sitting at a typewriter he gained before the plothole checked out and typing rapidly. He stops abruptly and leans back, frowning. Though he'd never admit it, he's almost certainly a little put-out. He hasn't hunted for days, and fed in even longer, and while he's not unwell yet, it isn't pleasant at all

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[i_flynomore]

Might as well see Lynette, then!

who is rooting furiously through a kitchen drawer looking for a tool she doesn't have. The Mansion isn't producing any more, and she needs it.

[fitzroyal]

He pauses at the sound of someone digging through a drawer and moves toward the kitchen, watching Lynette with curiosity. The strange girl he met upon first arriving, that's right. He hunts down her name. "You're up late, Lynette."

[i_flynomore]

Lynette looks at him unhappily. "Yes, ser."

[fitzroyal]

"Looking for something?"

[i_flynomore]

"The one-inch by four and fourth by twenty-four moil point," with obvious frustration.

[fitzroyal]

A blink. "...excuse me?"

[i_flynomore]

"I need it for working. I lost mine, but they used to be here."

[fitzroyal]

"Maybe someone moved it?" Henry suggests, mildly. He still doesn't really know how the Mansion works.

[i_flynomore]

"No, ser. They aren't here except when I need them."