Andrey slammed the white ball onto the table, and the impact made it bounce like jelly, plopping up and down. Prolonged contact had made Lyle realize his game-changing talent was sturdier than he had imagined.
He collapsed onto his wooden bed; the once rough edges had been smoothed to a curve. Though not as soft as the luxurious cushions of the Cup of Extravagance, this familiar discomfort allowed Lyle to truly relax.
As the first rays of sunlight touched the floor, Lyle bid good morning to the grape that was about to set out. Surprisingly, the light bat was diurnal. Lyle closed his eyes.
As the noise on the streets gradually became loud, Lyle found tranquility.
He couldn't sleep!
After the appearance of the Talent Sphere, he had spent an entire night at Andrey's, yet he felt not a bit sleepy. His body wasn't sore, his eyelids weren't fighting each other, and according to a physician's self-discipline, Lyle determined that his body was normal, still a great young fellow.
