He doesn't know why, but that bed is bothering him. A lot. Golden eyes trail to the wall, and then back to the stranger standing across from him. And then back to the wall. Was it the absence of memory that was bothering him? That seemed rational enough; humans want to have their memories. He should want to have his memories.

"No. I don't remember anything but a name. And it really isn't a proper name, either."

Kid's eyes fall back on the bed, and he frowns. It's a bed. In the grand scheme of issues that are currently pressing, a sloppy bed should be far at the bottom of the list. If it made the list at all. And yet, he couldn't help it.

"You ought to tidy that up. If you aren't..."

It doesn't matter if Kon isn't, in that moment, as he's taken with a sudden insatiable urge to fix it himself. Kid crosses the room in a few steps and makes quick work of fixing the tangled mass of sheets and blankets, frowning. It takes little time and he finishes.

He feels relieved when the bed is properly made. The anxiety gripping him alleviated, he swallows, feeling his mouth dry. Something about that seemed not right. That wasn't normal behavior, was it?

The way the stranger is looking at him, Kid assumes it probably is not.

"I apologize. It...I don't know why. It needed to be in proper order."