Though Qubit turns the question back without much elaboration on that aforementioned holiday from his world, Carlisle allows it for now, so taken with the walls of his former home. He puts a hand on one as he steps further into the hallway, his fingers pressing into the old grain as he tries to feel the texture through his gloves.

"A few," Carlisle replies, "though what we recognized in Bear Den was fairly limited. The turning of the year, and both Third and Fourth Feasts, were you to include the holidays celebrated by the kind." And, of course, Carlisle always included the kitten-kind so near to his home. He smiles thinking of them, knowing that despite how nosy they could be, he truly misses the kind.

That smile fades when he glances into his father's study, his eyes landing on the tall portrait above the fireplace. On the far wall of the room, above the mantel, hangs a lovely painting of the last Longinmouths: Boris, Kevin, Benistad, and even a younger, fresher Carlisle himself. Much like Qubit when faced with the painting of his friends in the volcanic lair, Carlisle can't help but stare for a moment at the illustrated visages across the room, fighting back an emotion he's not sure he ought to feel as an undead: it's somewhere between surprise and remorse, a regret-tinged nostalgia that leaves him silent once again.