Raju looks up the moment the oddly masked man comes back in, the pacing and rubbing at his arms pausing for an instant before he hurries to meet him. "Yes," he says eagerly, reaching out for what's been brought—

—then pausing once he's got them in his hands, rubbing a thumb curiously over the metal along the notebook's back, holding the... the probably-a-pen up to the light and squinting at it. "I... think."

He shifts his focus to what he can't really call the nib of one, and then to the other. Identical, so maybe they're meant to look that way. "Someone here made these?" he tries, not wanting to sound like he's insulting a gift the stranger was under no obligation to give him, but wanting to know, too. He can see the ink already inside, so he won't have to fill up either for a while so long as they can write at all, but they look so strange.