Rather than sit on the floor of the attic, Jonathan and Abigail made their way to the ground floor of the orphanage, and while Abigail made use of the facilities Jonathan sat down in the dining room. Fortunately, the previous owners were evidently unwilling to move the absolutely massive slab of a table that occupied the majority of the space in the dining room, and the mismatched wooden chairs had evidently not been worth carting off, either, so were arrayed against one wall. Although he didn't see any actual splinters, the chairs and table were both scarred and pitted with the ravages of many orphans past. Jonathan lugged one of the sturdier-looking chairs over near the head of the table and then grabbed the chair next to it and maneuvered it to the opposite side of the table so he and Abigail could see one another while they ate and talked.

Abigail trudged in, still not looking particularly awake, and slumped into one of the chairs while Jonathan took the other. "So—" he began, but Abigail held up a hand.

"Food first."

"Okay, fine. Look, I tried to create a sandwich on my own earlier and couldn't get it to work. I'm pretty sure I need you to help me with it in order for the magic to work."

"Are sandwiches the only thing you know how to make?" For someone who was dead set on the thought of a sandwich the previous evening, now Abigail was looking quite aghast.

"How should I know?" grumbled Jonathan. "This is all new to me. Do you know anything about how demons use magic?"

Abigail shrugged. "The docent didn't really teach much beyond simple magic tool usage. Someone from the local college would come in every six months or so to test the older kids for affinity, but they never paid us younger kids any mind."

"And you summoned me how?"

"That's different! I found that grimoire in the attic, and it had really clear instructions, and Mr. Geiller next door gave me some tips on how to empower summoning rituals properly."

That sure sounded like someone Jonathan needed to talk to sooner rather than later, but it would have to wait until he figured out how to determine the time of day. "And you've never heard stories about how demonic magic works? Surely it can't be a big mystery if preteens can just summon demons with their sidewalk chalk."

"I don't know, okay? We never…the docent was the only person who would teach us anything, we aren't like the other kids!"

Abigail looked on the verge of tears, and Jonathan found himself backpedaling. "Okay, okay, it's not a big deal, we'll figure it out together, then. I have some theories, I was just hoping you might know. Seriously, it's alright."

Abigail sniffed, and looked aside.

"For now, just try to think about how much you want a sandwich, alright? I'll—"

"I don't want a sandwich, though."

"…what?"

"It's breakfast, we should have oatmeal."

Jonathan looked around at the bare table, bare walls, and empty chairs. "What on earth would we even put the oatmeal in? Not to mention we don't have any utensils to eat it with."

"Can't you just conjure some dishes and spoons to go with it?"

"I—guess? Maybe? Okay, whatever, just focus on how much you want a bowl of oatmeal with a spoon."

Abigail nodded obediently and scrunched up her face in concentration. Jonathan suppressed his desire to say something snarky and turned his attention to his hands. For the sandwich, he'd conjured it into his hands, but that sounded like a good way to get burnt if the oatmeal ended up hot, and he did not want to risk dropping it and needing to repeat the trick, given how much the sandwich had taken it out of him. Hmm. Perhaps he could just focus on the table, and summon it there? Worth a shot.

He stood up, leaned forward so his hands were flat on the table and focused on the space between them before closing his eyes and trying to remember how it felt to connect to the Infernal Abyss. His heart instantly sped up as the panic set in once more, and he was briefly distracted by the thought that it seemed to be getting easier for him to take that first step, even if he still hated the way it made him feel.

In the darkness behind his eyelids red smoke once again billowed into being, but as it began to move towards him Jonathan snapped his eyes open. The red smoke didn't go away, and it was definitely emanating from Abigail, which meant that he wasn't really seeing it, was he—but then the leading edge of the smoke reached him, and all thoughts were driven out of his head by a spike of pain that shot through his entire body as the smoke whipped into his chest. Jonathan almost collapsed onto the table, barely managing to keep himself up with his hands against the table, but as the pain started to ebb he realized that he could somehow sense a single bowl of oatmeal coalescing out of nothing in front of him, and hell no that wasn't happening! By sheer force of will he somehow managed to grab the fading pain and tore at it, causing his whole body to spasm and fall back into his chair.

"Jonathan? Are you alright?" There was a distinct note of fear in Abigail's tone, and Jonathan forced himself to look up toward her, though it felt like the hardest thing he'd ever done. She was half-standing on the other side of the table, and between them were a pair of matching bright pink plastic bowls of steaming oatmeal, matching pink plastic spoons resting within the oatmeal and leaning against the edges of the bowls.

"Ha," laughed Jonathan, with no humor whatsoever. "I did it. Take that, reality."

"Yeah—yeah, you did. Are you alright?"

Jonathan grunted as he forced himself to sit back up out of his slump. "I'll—ugh—I'll be fine." The pain was already fading, although the exhaustion was still just as bad as he'd felt the previous evening with the sandwich. That would probably take a few more minutes to get over, if yesterday was any indication, and hey, this time he had something to eat!

He pushed one of the bowls partway across the table towards Abigail, who snagged it and pulled it closer with a curious expression on her face. "Eat up, kiddo."

"Thanks, Jonathan. Um, what is this bowl made out of, though? It's so light."

"Uh—" Jonathan pulled his own bowl of oatmeal closer. "Just looks like cheap plastic, to me. Not sure why it's bright pink, though. Do you like pink, perchance?"

"Well, I like some of the pink flowers that bloom here in the spring. It's not my favorite color or anything, though, and I've never seen anything quite this shade."

"Hmm." Jonathan dragged his spoon through the oatmeal, noting that there appeared to be some sort of nuts mixed into it. "What about nuts, are you a fan of nuts?" He was more of a raisins-in-oatmeal sort himself, not that he ate it all that often.

"Yeah, this looks like my favorite kind of oatmeal. What's plastic, though?"

Jonathan looked up in surprise. "Your world doesn't have plastic?" He'd assumed when he saw the indoor plumbing that the level of technology here was more or less within a century or so of his world. Though come to think, when he was going through the kitchen looking for food, the oven appeared to be wood-burning. Maybe they were a little less advanced than he thought?

"My world…? Oh, right, you're still keeping that up, huh? But no, I've never heard of plastic."

"Interesting." If Jonathan's guess was right, he needed Abigail to want him to create something before he could actually perform any magic. He was guessing the red smoke he was sensing had something to do with that. The actual results of the magic appeared to be some weird combination of things that he wanted or expected along with things that she wanted or expected. He would never have created the exact type of oatmeal she liked, since before now he didn't know anything about it. Plus he wasn't a huge fan of nuts for breakfast, much less in oatmeal. On the other hand, she apparently didn't know anything about plastic. Perhaps when she was visualizing oatmeal, she only really thought about the oatmeal itself, and he filled in the cracks with his own underlying beliefs? People in his original world often believe in pink accessories for girls, after all, and the plastic spoon could be explained by the way he thought of her as a little kid. He also had to shoe-horn in his own bowl of oatmeal; he was pretty sure she hadn't actually desired or thought much about that, which was why only one bowl was being conjured initially.

All of which meant that while he could do magic, he wasn't necessarily in the driver's seat when it came to when and what he conjured. Fortunately, he still had some agency to influence the outcome. This was going to require some experimentation, although…maybe he'd wait until he needed to conjure their next meal. Magic really took it out of him, and he couldn't say he enjoyed the reflexive panic he felt each time he tried to connect to the Infernal Abyss.

By now, Abigail had inhaled her oatmeal and was curiously playing with her spoon, bending it a little between her hands, holding it up to the light coming in the windows, tapping it against her bowl, and just generally looking like a monkey that has come across a curious new toy.

Jonathan finished up the last of his oatmeal, vowing that next time he tried this he was going to push for raisins. Nuts in oatmeal were just weird. "So," he said, getting Abigail's attention once more. "Can we reuse these bowls and spoons?"

"I don't see why not. Although, I don't know anything about plastic. Do you need to do anything special to clean it?"

Jonathan shrugged. "Soap and hot water should do the trick. Although on that topic: explain to me how this world has indoor plumbing with running water, but no plastic."

"I mean, maybe plastic is a thing? I've just never seen it before, but maybe that's what all the rich kids eat off every day. As for running water, what's so special about that?"

This kid…well, she had said that her education was probably not the best. "Where does the water come from, then?"

"What," said Abigail with heavy sarcasm, "does your world not have indoor plumbing? It comes from, I don't know, some central water tower or something."

"Of course we have—" Jonathan huffed, and cut himself off. He didn't actually care much about the exact workings of this world's indoor plumbing, as long as the pipes weren't made out of lead or— "Your pipes aren't made out of lead, are they?"

"I don't think so? Isn't lead poisonous or something?"

Thank goodness for small favors. He'd probably be able to drink the water without needing to worry about lead poisoning, at least. Though he was getting a second opinion on the matter as soon as he could find an adult to talk to. "Sorry, I sidetracked myself there. What I actually meant to ask is: who pays for the water? Are we going to need to worry about it getting shut off now that no one is officially living here?"

Abigail looked at him blankly. "You have to pay for water?"

Jonathan put his head down on the table and despaired for the youth of his new world.