"Okay." Damon left the drawer open, while he sat on his bed to pull on his underwear and socks. Rising, once more, he let the towel fall to the floor, and then he scooped up his loot and dropped it into an unmatched tube sock. This, in turn, he dropped behind the drawer, inside the dresser, where his mother would not easily find it. "Is that good enough?"
'Indeed. It is very good.'
The boy slid the drawer shut, again, and opened another to extract a shirt, and yet another to fish out a pair of pants. Fully dressed, now, he returned to the bathroom to hang the towel and brush his hair and teeth. He watched his own face carefully in the mirror. He mugged for his reflection, and made alternate masks of joy, anger, terror and surprise with his face.
'What are you doing?' wondered Boda from the darkness kept within the sink's drain.
Without pausing, Damon replied, "Practicing."