((Uh... Fyroh was still talking to you, he never left, but anyway, assuming he did...))
Fyroh looked around the room, somewhat amazed. He was a paper boy, a homeless one at that, yet some person, almost a stranger, had allowed him to stay in such a room... He picked up a boken, and began to swing it; he lost his grip and it flew into the wall. He quickly picked it up and put it away, embarassed; he'd never lost his grip on a weapon like that before. He continued to look around the room, and saw the picture. He was sincerely impressed; this Joker was obviously incredibly talented with weaponry... an honourable fighter indeed, and a formidable one at that. Yet so kind...
His eyes strayed to the orb which he had noticed earlier but payed little to no attention to; he had not noticed the colour change until now... He saw behind the wall his name. Confused, he lost interest in the orb and walked over to the wall; the katana was the first thing to grab his interest. He remembered the times in which he had handled a katana; an old friend had allowed him to use it, as he was 'well-travelled', but suddenly they had to leave each other... Fyroh taking the katana with him. He felt slightly guilty at the memory. That katana was now broken... but he wondered if his skills with the katana were as good as his normal swordplay anymore.
He picked the black and white katana up, and thrust it about a bit; it felt slightly awkward... at least, not as fluent as his normal swordplay; but a sword nontheless. He put it back; forgetting about the pendant, and returned to the orb... Fascinated, he lay a paw upon it.