At this point, Idia has learned not to wear his headphones around lunchtime for this very reason. Sometimes Cater drops by to exchange manga during his break, looking over the books while Idia crams popcorn or an energy drink into his pointy mouth-hole. So Cater doesn't have to wait long before the door slides open, even though Idia hasn't gotten up from his seat at the computer. Ah, magitech is wonderful. Idia doesn't even turn around, eyes fixed on his screens as he idly waves over his shoulder. His fingers are stained orange with cheese curl dust, but at least the hand on his keyboard is clean. He's not that much of a heathen!

Onscreen, there's a flurry of activity in the RTS game Idia's playing, and there's no hesitation as he decimates his opponent while continually munching away on junk food. Only when the "VICTORY!" screen pops up does he half-turn toward Cater. The blue of his lips is partially obscured by orange speckles. "Distro the spoils? Whatcha get?"