[When you become a virtual deity, there's a certain level of decorum that comes with it. You're a subject of worship, people look up to you, depend upon you. It's important to behave in a way that befits that reverence.

Or so Koby believes. Jerry, it seems, never got the message.

Still half-asleep, perpetual starlight dim in the early morning light, Koby rakes a hand backwards through his hair, sending out puffs of stardust. He squints at Jerry's...ensemble, leaning against the doorway of the kitchen and blinking at the question.]

No. I can honestly say I've never dreamed about geese. [A stifled yawn, then an annoyed flick of starlight -- pointed, feeling like a jab to the ribs -- as Koby starts closing the cupboards Jerry'd left open.] Stop rummaging and sit down. I'll make you something, you don't need to make a huge mess.