Phew

Fuy sits at the table after a mission in another dimension. He senses someone's presence, but he's so used to it that he doesn't pay attention. In front of him sits a mug containing a rotten tea bag that's been sitting there for five months. Fuy sorts it by chemical elements, combines them into numbers, solves them, parses the answer letter by letter, comes up with a word for each letter, finds antonyms and synonyms for these words, and so on ad infinitum. His blue pupils are dilated, his stomach rumbles, he's hungry, but what he's doing out of boredom is more important than anything else. Fuy mutters under his breath.
–Dividing it in half, we get 2 grams multiplied by the diameter...–