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Pat is quiet on the way up the elevator (apparently the yellow-lit closet: you didn't know elevators could get that compact), into the lab, and back down. You have the sense that to make conversation would rub salt in the wound and remain quiet yourself, letting Matches wind around your finger. You stand in front of the door out.
"Can I have my paint scraper back?" Pat says curtly.
"Oh." You hand it to her. She tucks it in a pocket.
"Can I have my <span class="mu-i">darkness</span> back?"
"Uh... I don't think so."
She snorts, then— you thought she was making to crack her neck, but her whole body spasms and snaps back and then you're not looking at Pat anymore. It's some other woman, of Pat's height and rough build, but with dark hair and light eyes and thoroughly nondescript features. "I couldn't go out like <span class="mu-i">that,</span>" she says, in response to your startled look. "It's nothing. Let's go."
"...Alright," you say, and Pat pushes open the right-hand door into blackness. She and you step out.
>[YOU HAVE ESCAPED!]
—
>[SOMEWHERE ELSE]
You are Gil Wallace. After talking a goo hivemind thing out of existential despair and convincing it to help you rescue your (deep breath) new friend/boss Lottie from her own questionable decision-making, you, Lucky, and Arledge have ventured out to the harbor to swipe some flammable cazeline. You're enjoying this more than they are.
"Mr. Wallace?" Lucky is shielding his eyes from the glare of the setting sun. "Have you found it?"
Have you found the cazeline? Yes. It's exactly where Teddy knew it'd be. You've refrained from informing Lucky or Arledge of this, however, to give you a chance to peer over the stern and check out Teddy's boat's massive goddamn engine. For... research.
"Gil." Arledge this go-around. "We don't have a lot of time."
Is poking at the engine critical to getting the magic stuff out of Lottie and/or her worm? No. Is it even relevant? ...Also no. But listen— listen. This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. A not-even-in-your-lifetime opportunity, actually. So you are giving the engine a once-over, not even sitting down to crack it open, and—
"<span class="mu-i">Mr. Wallace?</span>"
Goddammit. You give the engine a goodbye pat and straighten up, brushing your hair out of your eyes (Teddy needs to learn the virtues of gel) and lifting the twin jugs of cazeline you'd snagged first thing. "Yeah, I got them. Should be enough for decent coverage... it doesn't take a lot."
"I'm aware." Lucky takes the jugs as you offer them off the side of the boat, then hop down to meet the two of them. "Thank you for locating these."
You've been admittedly wary around Lucky and Arledge since the incident, but neither have shown an inkling of wanting to murder Charlotte since then. Weird stuff. "...Yeah, sure," you say. "No problem. That's it, then?"
(3/5)
