He shifts to grab the bag's strap, dragging it close and flipping it open to rifle through. He knew his Chenqing was already there, and this time he plans to keep it out; a few of the other staples follow, and it's the book-like thing he retains, along with a strange sort of implement that might, maybe, be fore writing.

"Is this supposed to be the brush?" He asks, holding up a pen from the case of them and the pencils.