He didn't have time for this. He didn't have time for a completely ludicrous roommate. It was... what was it? A pink puffball. It was actually, really, not-exaggeratingly a pink puffball. That was it. It was a rose-colored elastic sphere with a mouth and two red shoes at the bottom. And two eyes.

...What the hell.

Houtarou blinked once, twice, thrice before arriving at the conclusion that this was really and truly not-fake, completely inescapable reality, and that he shared his dorm with an alien. It could only be an alien, because all logic seemed to go out the window with it. It could eat anything and everything. It could call a goddamn star with its phone. How did it even have a phone in the first place? Who in their right mind would buy it one? Or sell it one? Was it capable of having money..? Where did that money come from? Did it have a job? Did it have parents?

Normally, Houtarou would consider just working this out through the tunnels of his mind, because that seemed to work well for most -- no, all -- other mysteries he had previously encountered. But this one, this... toy, well, he decided on the cusp of a thought that this... was better left alone and unsolved. Because there was no fathomable logic to back up its existence.

The brunette sighed, and reached his desk. The boy pulled out a notepad from within the confines of his bag, and clicked a pen, and started writing.

WHAT IS YOUR NAME.

He turned the memo pad around, slowly, as he did with all things, and slowly extended his arms until he couldn't stretch out anymore. He was afraid of touching it. It might have carried germs, or something. He had no idea. He didn't want to know. Did he?