A shame, then, that Alabaster himself didn't possess so much as a scrap of spiritual ability. He stared at the spoon, moving of its own accord - at least to his eyes, with an expression somewhere between slightly confused, and slightly amused. The words slipped out before he could stop them, "...You have a pet spoon?" An odd notion, yes, but it was the first one that came to his mind.

Regardless of her choice in pets, or how she acquired them, for that matter, he couldn't fault someone with so many clocks. (Though, the digital ones elicited something of a double-take from him.) He was at home with the sound of ticking. Grandfather Clock's own church, the Church of Measured Time, was wall-to-wall clocks, all ticking in perfect, glorious unison.