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Ball
Carlo was pretty sure that the ball was originally his: when he was a child and on a rare vacation from Rose Estate, he often spent time in the hotel and Antonia had gotten him some toys to pass the time.
The ball had sat in the storage for years, covered in dust and forgotten, until Romeo dug it up and polished it out of boredom. He often threw it in the air and caught it when he had nothing else to do, driving Polendina insane.
The puppet found it fascinating. He stood still and stared at the ball and when Romeo gave it to him he threw it in the air and caught it again and again, and would probably continue it for hours if father wasn't waiting for him.
Broom
Polendina swept the Grand Lobby every day, and the puppet liked to watch.
He had thought the broom was some sort of weapon at first, and tried to shelter Carlo from it, but after the bad start he found the broom immensely fascinating. Eventually Polendina loaned him a second one and after that he took over Carlo's duty to sweep the hallways. He loved it, which Carlo always told Romeo when he accused him for making his weird puppet brother do his chores.
Monday
“Hey, you. Come here, I've got a job for you.”
The puppet turned around and marched to Carlo without hesitation. That was one of the things that made it obvious for everyone he was not a human: the lack of hesitation and surprise, the odd confidence in his steps. A human would be surprised if they heard themselves being called suddenly but the puppet had no understanding of this. He was called. He obeyed.
And yet, when he came to stand where Carlo sat with Romeo, he could swear his puppet doppelganger looked interested. Maybe Carlo's missions were more interesting than father's.
“There you are”, Carlo said when the puppet was close enough to hear. “I need you to find me something.”
The puppet tilted his head. “What.”
“You need to learn to ask questions, kid”, Romeo pointed out.
“Don't distract him”, Carlo said, waving a dismissive hand to the puppet who looked confused. “He's doing fine. Listen, I need you to try to find me some candles. Small, if possible. They’re going on top of a cake.”
The puppet frowned. “Cake…?”
“Yes, a sweet pastry, you know? Antonia's birthday is on Tuesday and I want to surprise her. Romeo already made the cake but we still need the candles."
“Tuesday?”
Carlo sighed. Romeo smirked.
“It's a weekday”, he explained patiently to his puppet twin. “You know that there's seven days in a week? Now it's Saturday. Tuesday is in three days –tell you what, let me grab a pen.”
When the puppet left the hotel, he was humming the weekday song Carlo taught him. He did find candles though, and the party was a success.
Cat
Nobody really knew whose cat Spring was, but everyone acknowledged she belonged to the hotel.
The puppet tried to touch her once, but she hissed and pulled away. After that he observed her from a safe distance, looking at her respectfully like she was a forgotten god.
The cat loved Carlo, though, and often rode on his shoulders when he walked around. One time when she was doing that, Carlo noticed the puppet watching them.
He wouldn't tell it to anyone, not even the puppet himself, but he was sure his usually expressionless face looked jealous.
Name
“Carlo?”
“Hmm?”
“Are you a human?”
This, Carlo thought, was a bad way to start a day.
But there he was, sipping his coffee that the puppet had brought him, and looking at his expressionless but still worried face. Carlo had a long time ago given up trying to understand why he understood the puppet so well. He just did.
“Yes I am”, he said and took a sip. “Why do you ask?”
The puppet stared at him for a second. “Is Romeo human?”
“Yes.”
“But Polendina is a puppet.”
“Yes. Is there a point you're trying to get across?”
The puppet frowned slightly. With everyone else it would have been barely noticeable but for the puppet, it was clearly a massive effort. “But you are…called different.”
“Well, we have names”, Carlo said. He felt like he was catching on. “My name is Carlo, and Romeo's Romeo, and Polendina is Polendina. Everyone has a name, whether they're puppets or not.”
The puppet looked slightly anxious. Carlo had a hunch he already knew were this was going: this was all just stalling. “I've been meaning to ask you, though. Did our father give you a name?”
The puppet shook his head. “He says, ‘boy.”
“Well, that's stupid. Would you like a name?”
“Pinocchio?”
How this kid made his way through Krat, was truly a mystery.
“Sure”, Carlo said, breezily ignoring the fact that the reason for this conversation was now painfully obvious. “Pinocchio is a good name.”
This time he was sure. The Puppet definitely knew how to smile.