Crane swayed slowly from side to side, hands clasped neatly behind his back.
He smiled—not out of joy, but at the faint flicker he saw cross Singed's face when he mentioned the daughter. A rare crack. A human moment.
"What are you playing at, boy?" Singed asked, his gaze sharp beneath the lenses, already calculating.
Crane chuckled softly.
"I'm just interested," he said, voice light. "In why you do what you do."
He glanced to the side, briefly admiring the glint of shimmer in a nearby vat.
"Your motive," he mused aloud.
"Your fear. Or maybe…"
He turned back toward Singed, eyes alight with something unreadable.
"…Love?"
He stepped forward, slow and deliberate, his hands still tucked behind his back.
"I've got something to tell you."
Singed took a quiet step back, bumping into the workbench.
His left hand slipped behind him, fingers skimming across scattered tools until they closed around a vial of shimmer.
"My motive?" he said calmly, the vial now hidden in his palm.
"You already know the answer. You simply want me to say it."
Crane drifted closer, close enough for Singed to feel his breath—cool, faintly sweet, and far too calm.
Singed tightened his grip on the vial.
Crane leaned in, his voice soft, lips barely parting.
"Boo."
Singed flinched.
The vial of shimmer slipped from his fingers, clattering against the workbench with a sharp rattle. The contents sloshed but didn't spill.
Crane stepped back, hands still clasped behind his back, swaying gently on his heels like he'd just completed a card trick.
"Are you alright?" he asked, tilting his head.
"You look a little… spooked."
He turned slightly, peering at Singed from the corner of his eye.
"Did I scare you with that?"
Singed exhaled slowly through his nose, steadying his breath, regaining control.
"What's your e—"
"I'm not wearing my mask," Crane cut in smoothly.
"I'm not that scary."
He shrugged, voice almost innocent.
"I'm just a minuscule boy right now."
Singed's eyes narrowed.
"There's nothing minuscule about you, boy."
Crane blinked, thrown for half a second.
"Huh?"
Singed lifted a hand and pointed straight at Crane's head.
"You view yourself as less than you are," he said.
"You feign madness. You call yourself minuscule."
His voice was steady.
"you know secrets no one ever taught you. Things no one ever should've told you."
"And knowledge is power."
He lowered his hand just slightly.
"And you, boy… you've got a surplus."
Crane stared at the finger, at the space between them.
No smile. Just a blink.
"…Thanks for the compliment?"
Crane took a slow breath, letting it settle his nerves. Then he rolled his shoulders back, more relaxed now—almost playful.
"Fine," he said lightly.
"Since you're nice and I like old people, I'll be the one to tell you a story. About your daughter."
Singed's head turned sharply toward him. His voice, calm but cold:
"Will you explain how you have knowledge of my daughter?"
Crane met his gaze, unflinching.
"I already did."
He smiled faintly.
"You just didn't want to hear it."
He took a step forward, posture loose, almost casual.
"Now let me tell the small story."
He adjusted his tone—smoothing it into something theatrical, the cadence of a bedtime tale.
"The story of the girl with the mechanical body."
Singed's brow creased. He murmured under his breath:
"Mechanical body?"
He looked away for a moment, thoughts stirring behind his eyes.
Crane watched him, delighted.
"I didn't say the story takes place in this time," he said, voice lilting, teasing.
Then he brought a finger to his lips.
"Now shush."
He closed his eyes and tapped his temple lightly.
"Let's see… how did the story go again?"
A pause. Then, softly:
"Ah. Okay."
Crane's voice grew softer, more thoughtful.
"The girl with the mechanical body…"
He trailed off.
Silence stretched.
Singed stared at him, unsure whether to speak or stay silent, wary of another dramatic shush.
Finally, cautious:
"…Did you forget?"
Crane blinked, snapping out of his reverie. He glanced around the lab absently before settling his gaze back on Singed.
"Oh. No, that's the whole story."
————————————-
I don't study, yet it feels like Time goes by faster.
I hope Time's not mad at me.