Ienzo chews at his bun with a soft noise of assent, meticulous about keeping the sticky filling off his fingers and sleeves. No one really deposited him here... Ansem had looked away for a moment, jovially greeting some children in the street by the town bakery, and the boy had nipped pastry right off the cooling tray in the window and slipped away before his preoccupied guardian had given him much notice.

Master Ansem was easily distracted for a man called wise, and easier to give the slip than Even, who had the pealing, piercing kind of voice that would often stop him before he'd wandered off too far.

He looks the ice sculpture up and down with critical curiosity, wondering how difficult that sort of magic was, or if it were simple as wishing it into existence. If he really did have free reign over what to make of his holidays, Ienzo would have gone down to Merlin's house for some practical lessons with his own magic, but staying close to Even would get him in less trouble....tempting as it was to spend the morning transfigured into a squirrel. He'd been told there would be no studies today, they were all to take a well-deserved break.

"How do you do it?" He finally dares asking, well aware that he might get a very technical answer, and not minding that too much. It was better than feeling smothered in his youth, or having his cheeks pinched and gushed at by the strangers in town.