Wolf's brow furrowed, when the bag was set down. He reached into it, touched something soft-

And his eyes fell on a little knitted bird with a white scarf.

"Oh, I say, that's rather good. It looks handmade; did you make this yourself, Mister... Tatsumi, wasn't it-"

But Wolf wasn't listening. A dozen emotions crossed his face all at once, primary among them being confusion and... hurt? "I don't- I don't understand," he said, after several seconds, and Rookmon trailed off, falling silent.

"I don't understand. I tried to kill you, I- why? Why would you..." It was handmade. It had to be. You couldn't just get things like this in shops. "Why?! I don't even know you, you were just-" Maybe it was some lingering lack of filter from the dungeon, maybe he was just... out of any ability to mask, right now- but that only sparked more confusion. Why was it hard to breathe all of a sudden, why did this- hurt? It had to be a joke. People didn't do this. But he couldn't spot the trick, couldn't work out what the angle of attack was. "You just showed up for the TV thing, I don't..."

Sensing, perhaps, some of this, Rookmon took the moment to place a wing on his arm. "I don't understand," he finished, hollowly.