Quoted By:
Clear as mud. "What? Has he been— have you been summoning things, Gil? Can you do that? Are there demons that will help out with... oh. Wait. That can't be— there can't be <span class="mu-i">two</span> of him, Richard. Don't be stupid. They stick back together if he gets too close! Like magnets! I've seen it happen! No way there's two in a little shed. Right? Gil?"
He groans.
"Also, it'd be really weird to be all secret about that? Because I already know there can be two of you, and if you were doing it to help yourself with the siphon, then that just sounds helpful? And kind of smart? I don't know why you'd think I'd be mad."
"I-I'm sorry..."
So Richard was right? Oh. You knew that all along, of course. You were only pretending.
>[-1 ID: 10/14]
Richard looks like the cat who got the cream. Gil, elbows down against the workstation, looks like the cream. God, you don't understand him. What was the point of this all? Did he really think you'd be mad? "Shut up," you say roughly. "This was stupid. So there was two of you?"
"Yeah."
"And you were working on it together just now, while Richard and I were talking? You weren't doing anything else... weird?"
Well, this gets him to lift his head. He stares at you plaintively. "No! I-i-i-i-it wasn't— it wasn't— no, no, no. We just... I-I just... I-I-I wanted to get it polished while you were busy, and... nothing weird! Please, Lottie! I wouldn't ever— that'd be so goddamn gross—"
"Okay, then why would you..." You sigh. "Can you at least show me? How does it even work? I thought you couldn't get close."
"Uh... I-I-I couldn't... but I think the goo changed that? Like, i-i-it insulates me from, uh... sorry. Do you <span class="mu-i">need</span> to watch? Or can you just take my word for it, and we can move on, and never talk about i-it again... maybe?" He studies your face. "...No?"
"Now I'm invested," you say fussily.
"...Egh." Gil stands upright and shakes his hands out, then brushes his shoulders to get the beetles off. They flit into the air, then— as he points out to his right— fling themselves sideways, forming a clump across the room. Gil is listing rightward, too, but digs his fingernails into the tabletop to steady himself.
"Sorry." He makes a face and splays his fist. The beetle clump vibrates and coruscates and—
"Ow," says Gil, who has fallen to the floor. He is wearing a turtleneck. Gil, who isn't wearing a turtleneck, lowers his arm and pays you a weary look. He is clambering to his feet. He is looking pointedly at the ceiling.
"Are you happy now?" he says.
"Are you happy now?" he says.
Richard, coming up behind you, rests his hand on your shoulder.
"Uhh... shit. Sorry. It's hard when he's right there to—" Gil raps his knuckles on the tabletop.
"Uhh... shit. Sorry. It's hard when he's right there to—" Gil pinches the top of his nose.
(2/4)
