[He watches the chocobo bouncing and flapping his agreement, with the faintest of smiles, because even the gloomiest princess smiles at a plucky animal sidekick, at least every once in a while.

He watches, and he waits, as the chocobo brings out the garments one by one, then mimes tying them together. He nods. He understands what's meant, maybe because of the pantomime, and maybe because of the warking, or maybe a little of both. After all, with a chocobo as your only companion, you get to be good at translating.]

It's an idea. But we'll need so many to make it long enough.

[He sighs. He's not sure how good the idea is. While there's more fabric they can use in the laboratory than these few garments, there isn't that much readily available. Sixty-seven floors is a long, long way. They're perhaps much higher up than the usual tower that could be escaped from by ropes made from clothing and linens.

It would take time to make a rope long enough. How could they hide the losses and the rope for the time it would take? But climbing down themselves is an idea.]

There's only one thing long enough here for us to climb down.

[Of course, he looks at his hair. There's only one way he could climb down his own hair. An irrevocable, drastic way. He can already imagine how livid the professor would be if he dared cut it.]