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Ienzo is, of course, a genuine help in the lab. He's great at following instructions, he cares about doing things correctly, and he has an impressive amount of focus.
When he has to climb onto the lab stools, though, he really does have to climb. He's obviously adept at it, but sometimes Even can't help but look at the way he drowns in his coat, and how he hasn't fully grown into his new jeans that Ansem bought for him slightly oversized, and thinks to himself, what is this child doing here, exactly?
At this point they couldn't hope to kick him out in favor of more age appropriate hobbies. Aside from indulging in his habit of tottering off in random directions whenever he gets the chance, Ienzo sticks to everyone on the crew like a little duckling.
Still. Even finds it highly inappropriate for a child of his age to do nothing but help with research. Whenever he can manage without an assistant (or convince the boy that it's not necessary), Ienzo’s station is set half a table away with paper and a pack of crayons. The huge pack, with a sharpener at the bottom. Because it's what Even would want if he were the one coloring, and he can't help but dote a little.
Beyond trying to encourage developmentally appropriate hobbies outside of lab work, it's a helpful tool for understanding any child better. While he can on occasion talk at length about his interests, Ienzo is awfully quiet in most regards, and especially about himself. A child's drawings speak volumes. Even keeps them neatly chronicled and talks them through with Ansem, when appropriate. Ages upon ages ago the drawings reflected missing a mother, a father, and stability. It warms all of their hearts to now see pictures of Ienzo smiling next to Ansem with ice cream in the fountain plaza, with Even yelling at them both.
Today, Ienzo’s arms wrap protectively around the edges of the paper, keeping prying eyes away. His long sleeves pick up flecks of pink and purple crayon as he hugs the paper even closer, trying to prevent anyone from peering on, even more strict as footsteps approach.
"Something secret today, Ienzo?"
At hearing that it's Even asking, he pauses, looks around the room, then shakes his head and loosens his posture. "Not to you."
How interesting. "May I see?"
Ienzo hesitates, but he does pull his hands back to let Even see the full picture. He stands next to him to look, not wanting to intrude on the art space.
It's a drawing of that boy Ventus, physically picking up those creatures from around town. One is being thrown across the page and over Ienzo’s head, where he looks on with an expression of awe. Even can't help it; he laughs. Ienzo frowns instantly, then throws his arms back over the page.
"No, no, I apologize. Merely the creature being thrown is comical. The picture as a whole looks fantastic, Ienzo."
He's still not pleased, staring at the table. Even bends down closer to his level.
"I'm glad you aren't still frightened. That boy was awfully nice to help, wasn't he?"
Ienzo nods sharply, twice. He loosens up where his arms were covering the monsters on the edges, but leaves himself and Ventus covered with his hands in the center of the page. He's trying to be casual about it, but he's not old enough to be a particularly good actor.
"Suppose if we see him again, you'll thank him personally instead of having me speak for you, no?"
Ienzo's face doesn't change at all, but Even gets a quiet "maybe" in response. He'll have to remember that. It doesn't seem likely to get him to open up any further to continue down that path, though, so instead he points to one of the dark shapes.
"I like the color you've made the creatures. Is it multiple crayons you've layered?"
Ienzo nods softly, once. "It's pink then black then purple."
Even smiles. Using the pink first makes it look positively horrible, what with the wax on lighter colors sticking weirdly, but it does give it a mottled look that seems to portray them just fine. He's not old enough to be a particularly good artist. (Among this, he thinks that the boy shouldn't be old enough to be a particularly good researcher, but it is what it is.) "It looks just like them. You have a fantastic memory, Ienzo."
"Yeah." He taps his finger on the table a few times. Considering whether to speak or not. Even, as always, gives him all the time in the world.
"What are they?"
"I don't know the answer to that question, I'm afraid."
"Can we catch one?"
Ienzo on looks expectantly as Even considers the logistics of it. They've seen so few that they may be hard to find. The smallest are rabbit sized, which is manageable, but if they go seeking them they may not be so lucky with what arrives. His own index finger taps against the table's surface as he considers it. There are glass containers that may contain the smallest of them, and perhaps only one getting loose in the lab would be manageable, in the most annoying scenario. Assuming they have the ability to call more after them, though, introduces obvious problems.
Ienzo leans, almost imperceptibly, forward. It's enough to catch Even’s attention. He's becoming impatient.
"I suppose we could try, if only you promise to stay close by me when we're walking."
Ienzo hops off the stool with as much excitement as he's ever possibly had. "Okay. I want one." He's already running past Even to where they keep the large glass jars, which isn't exactly promising about how this will go, but, well, the boy doesn't get energetic about much. Even will have to let it slide, and simply hope they don't actually run into anything.
Perhaps he'll convince Ienzo to catch a regular rabbit, or something.
(He knows for certain that he will not.)