Hmm

Tamama scurried down a hallway in the Nishizawa Mansion, each step's squeak echoing off the ornate décor. He bounced to a cheerful pause before the doorway to Momoka's room. A hand had not even been lifted for knocking when Paul swung the door open, and Tamama admitted himself with a cheerful hop.

“What's up, Momo?” He chirped, accompanied by a deliberately endearing wag of his tail.

She, however, was in no mood to indulge him. She had immediately leaped from her chair as the tadpole entered, and his fate had been set in stone; or at least it was to become set in stone. She lifted a foot just enough to slam it into the Keronian's face and press it into the wall.

“You idiot!” She shrieked; keeping her fists shoved behind her back  for balance as she held Tamama in place. Her eyes were ringed with rage that would have been striking in anyone else. “Did you think you'd just get to go like that?!”

Tamama struggled, though his wild flailing did not gain him any freedom. He somehow produced a semi-coherent protest, “M-Momo... nnf! Lem-me gofff!”

“Miss Momoka... I am fairly certain he cannot breathe.” Paul tapped her shoulder delicately. The girl blinked, and her eyes faded back to pale lavender water in a demurely blushing face. Her hands came together before herself, fingers interwoven gracefully, while her heels clicked in what resembled a ballerina's pose. Tamama sank along the wall without anything to support him, coming to rest on the floor.

“Oh, Tama... Oops...” Her soft whisper was followed by a musically nervous laugh, and she knelt beside him. She sighed heavily, turning her lips up at the corners, but the smile was so forced that it seemed sadder than any frown. “Paul, please leave for a moment.”

He complied unquestioningly, and when she heard the door close behind him, she reached out to assist the Keronian in reorienting himself. He regarded her fuzzily, murmuring, “Momo... what was that for...?”

“Ah... I was just concerned, that's all,” She shifted onto her heels and smoothed her skirt fussily, though it was obvious that she was only fidgeting. “I'm sure you've been having a hard time...”

“Eh?” Tamama wriggled and pressed himself further against it. His heart was thumping with anger's speed, but he felt dampened, something was lending him better restraint than usual. He would call it fear, but he wasn't scared, and he wasn't quite naïve enough to not recognize it. A touch of guilt.

Yet he couldn't stay subdued for long. He was the main character, the star regardless of his symbol; so he knew that regardless of the grand trials he faced, the ending would be favorable. For all of them, for him and Momoka and Mr. Sergeant. A slight pout set on his lips,  and he popped off the ground to pose. Hands on hips; puffed-out chest; and an exaggerated declaration, “No!”

“Is that so...?” Momoka said nothing else, seeming deflated as she forced a nod. “Alright, then. Still, if it's not bothering you, then it shouldn't be any trouble if I come along. Just in case.” She nodded again, a good deal more decisively, her hair bobbing with the motion as blades stiffened from it. An index finger was raised playfully to make her punctuate her point, and then lowered to jab Tamama in the chest. He caught hold of it, however.

“Why do you want to come? Why?” He demanded, and there it was again. An angry pulsing that didn't fill him with the desire to blast lasers indiscriminately. That pout deepened, he would prefer a problem that he could have burned away more easily.

Momoka giggled, and though it began as a heavy, faintly dark sound from back in her throat, it faded into something lighter as she gave Tamama a pat on the head, “Silly! I can't just let my little Tama go wandering around without someone to look after him, can I?”