Al grinned at words, written - mouthed. The blue quill at his side skip-hop-sprung from his parchment perch around to Al's right shoulder, then back to his left, leaving his hair in disarray.
"You weren't happy with me the entire year," he pointed out, with a lopsided smile. "In fact, you were rather displeased with my occupation the second time we've talked."
That much, Al could derive from facial expressions and the remembered tone of one's voice.
Then of course, when conversational hints failed, the request to leave, was rather plain and clear, even to Al.