Meryl, I have managed to keep Father Nightroad's little herb garden alive in my apartment, if that would be helpful to you at all. It's not much, but it's something.

Meryl, I assume you intend to carry on as usual? If so, then I am with you.

Soap.

It's a beautiful thing.

I miss Caesar.

It's been a while since I've heard from you, Father. Is everything all right?

Ah....the joy of Spring cleaning. Emphasis on Spring.

I'm almost sad to use up that piece of soap I've been hoarding, but it does look so much nicer in here.

The bubbles...

Hamon housewife. Who would have thought?

I do believe the dry air does make bigger sparks. I wonder if my hamon could channel the jolt into something useful? Hm.

Johnny's gone now? Always with the coming and going, Discedo. Who will you scientist take away from me next?

Are you still here, 6? You're so quiet these days. Do you need another check up tune-up check-up?

[Lisa is pottering about in the makeshift greenhouse she assembled with Father Nightroad to cover the tender vegetation back in August, just minding her own business, when the communicator goes off and zaps her, and she accidentally uproots a carrot.]

Ugh! Again? Oh! Now that's just lovely...

Well, it seems that little 6 has been sent home to be with his family, after all. I hope he is safe, and happy, wherever that may be. I wonder what this little Christmas plant will look like when it finally blooms. It's growing quite heartily already.

I rather like December.

I should have a birthday some time this month.

Have I lost a day? I wish I could remember that dream. All I know is I woke up with a strange sense of...of the calm in the eye of a storm.

Ah, well, life goes on.