The soft slide of serpentine scales was barely louder than a whisper. Its rasp approached the edges of a nearby pool of shadow. The snake within paused there at some unseen signal from its rodent rider, and lifted its head. A tongue flicked to taste the air, and the message of 'stranger' was relayed in wordless recognition to the rat.

Archimedes took a moment to study Doru, regardless of whether the other's head had turned toward him or not. And then, with a cheerful lilt--still astride his familiar--to his tone, he offered greeting.

"Hello, stranger. Is that a sigh of weariness-" (and paws raised, swiping through whiskers in the briefest of cleanings) "-or sadness?" The rat didn't move from his perch, but his twitching little movements fell into stillness as he looked up again, beady eyes fixed upon this stranger.

He formed and phrased himself in a wholly nonthreatening manner, despite the directness of his stare.

He listened, silent and still and attentive, for much of Doru's speech. The creature was surprisingly forthcoming, and little shell ears cupped forward to listen. Toward the end, he took to washing his whiskers again, as if lapsing into thought, though his attention clearly did not wane; his eyes remained upon Doru's face.

"Archimedes," he answered, and then clarified; "My name is Archimedes. And yours..?" He waited a polite interval for one to be provided before continuing. "You're right, you have spoken much. And to a stranger," he added, and laughed briefly. But it didn't seem to be reproach. If anything, it was genuine amusement.

Beneath the rat, the snake remained still as a stone.

"May I assume that means it is an... intense concern?" He gestured, as if trying to better explain, as he went on--rephrasing himself. "At the forefront of your mind? Urgent?" His head tipped slightly to one side, attention at last dropping to the stone, but he said nothing more for now.

The rat again swiped forepaws through whiskers, thinking.

When he glanced up at Doru again, his expression was keen with intelligence. "That is a shame. As for a child, why create one at all? Why must it be you-?" he went on, curious. "If you wish it to live, there are plenty who would... reimburse you for the stone, you know. For the chance to make a child of their own. I am a broker. A... middleman, I suppose you could say, for such things. Gemstones are a currency worth a great deal in some circles. To create children," he clarified, sitting back. "They can be hard to come by, especially if they're from more than one of these," and a tiny paw gently rapped the skull of the serpent beneath him. "A mere animal."

If the stranger's snakelike gaze bothered him, he did not show it, either used to hiding fear of predators or perhaps simply used to close proximity to particularly snakish beings. Still, he refrained from outright offering to broker such an exchange as the one he'd mentioned, yet. Instead he waited, wondering if there might be more to it than Doru had thus far explained.

Archimedes remained silent, occasionally cleaning a whisker but mostly remaining still as he listened. Whatever he thought, he kept it to himself. He appeared attentive, but otherwise, he gave away little of whatever he was thinking, or feeling.

He listened to the possessive response; he studied the grin. He waited through the brief list of parentage, taking mental notes.

Ahh, and... a question. As it was asked, Archimedes moved as if suddenly newly animated, from statue-still to a liquid-smooth shrug of furred shoulders. "Would it have as much potential-? These, 'every advantages?' That depends on... luck, I suppose. And--well, where did this stone come from?" he asked, tipping his head quizzically.

He wasn't sure if this stranger knew how reproduction worked. So far as he himself knew, it was a barely understood concept, in general, with only theory and guesswork. That was the way most magic seemed to be, and this was certainly a form of magic. But he knew that the other parent, or donor of the stone, would likely factor in.

Archimedes again waited. And when this Doru had at last finished speaking, he studied him for a good long while.

At length, very mild, he lifted his forepaws and washed his whiskers. "I was answering your question," he responded, perfectly polite and bereft of tone.

That was all he said, for now.