Quoted By:
>Good with a Sword
Gil looks down, then ducks down behind the central workstation. When he emerges, he's carrying a wheeled, pink-cushioned stool. He sets it down in front of you. "Does this work? I-I-It's a little cramped in here, so I thought— that way you can get out of the way i-if I need to get by— but i-if you don't like it, um, I'm sure I can—"
You clamber on, then use the edge of the workstation to push yourself in a circle. "Seems okay. Was it always pink?"
"Um... no." Gil sticks his thumbs in his pockets. "I-I-I thought it might be a color you liked, since... you're wearing a lot of it."
You examine your extremely pink cape. "Yes! It's highly ladylike."
"That's good." His brows unscrew a bit. "I-I-I guess I'll... uh... get back to it, then. Unless you had any ideas? Or wanted me to do something else? I-I-I know it's not that good, so—"
"Gilbert," you say.
"What?"
"If I don't let you finish, it'll be awful forever! Obviously. And like I said, we have lots of time, so why would I stop you? Keep doing it."
Gil nods, slowly at first, then faster. He snaps his goggles back on. You discover that your stool is adjustable (how ingenious!) and boost yourself up far enough to see over the workstation, which you lean your elbows on. Gil keeps glancing up at you, but otherwise busies himself with the glove, silently prising the lever mechanism off it, fiddling with it, staring, holding his bare hand over it (it glows) and taking it away (it stops)— "How does that work?" you say, wiggling the stool back and forth.
"Ah!" He startles. "Um, sorry. I-I-It's— here, look." There's a small vial at the end of the level, filled with black gunk. "The blessing reacts when i-it's— when it's relevant. When there's a— I guess— a change happening. This stuff is rejection fluid, which—"
"I know all about that," you say.
"Okay, cool. I-It's, um— it's generated when there's an unwanted change, I-I guess. Sort of metaphysically. So the blessing reacts. I-I-I think I need more, though, or I need a stronger trigger, but it's hard to source..."
"Do you need red stuff?" you say.
"...I-i-i-is that safe?"
"I have no idea! But you should draw my blood and find out. I'm sure it'd be fine if it's only a little."
Gil is still reticent, but you tell him that a poke with a needle's only, like, a 2 on the Pain Scale (which, reminder, you got up to 27 on), and he concedes. When your blood sample doesn't bite him, he sighs and drips it into the vial alongside the gunk, which—
You spin the chair around in celebration. "See? I'm helping!"
(1/5)
