He reached out, taking the writing notebook and pen from Taiki's hands if he could. Only to set them aside, deliberately and carefully, because to him they weren't about being a notebook and means of writing within. It was the blank slate and state of Taiki's mind, looking to solutions for situations he couldn't follow up on yet.

Those plans, blank as they were now, weren't to be lightly thrown away.

"Xiao Ki."

Stubborn, meet stubborn. And unlike anyone of Taiki's world, Jingyi had no respect for what kirin were in their mythos or in people's imaginations. Just who Taiki was as himself, to him, as himself.