Chapter Text
It didn't take him long to get fully bathed. When he was clean (and the water had a slight pink tinge to it), Simon left the bath and bundled himself up in the washcloth.
He sat in a ball, his lips pressed tightly together as he held one arm out in front of himself.
The lacerations had vanished. In their place, there were dark red streaks, lines where the tendrils had crawled up his body. He shuddered.
He wasn't bleeding anymore, but… at what cost?
He'd known that the blood was… wrong. This was just further proof of that, confirmation of the filth that he'd brought with him onto the Hail Mary. He wanted to be sick. Because of him, the entire crew was now exposed to the blood—to the madness. He had done that.
He tried to put it out of his mind. Instead, Simon pulled the soft cloth up over the back of his head like a hood and looked around the lab from his current vantage point.
It was just as he'd remembered it—white and gray metal paneling lined the walls, along with rectangular storage compartments and cabinets. He could see a large, island-type of table built into the middle of the room, where a number of pieces of lab equipment sat. In the far corner, there was a machine that was currently running.
He squinted and tried to examine it from afar. It resembled a printer of some kind—they'd used a similar one on Eden, when they had the spare, reclaimed material to print new components for the ship. He vaguely remembered how it worked, laying down layer upon layer of molten metal.
Compared to other stations, it was an antiquated piece of junk. Compared to this place, that printer was downright futuristic. He saw the irony.
He wasn't sure what it was making, but he could see that it was rectangular in shape. He made a mental note to ask Grace when he returned.
At the thought of Grace, his chest felt cold.
On one hand… Grace was tormenting him, no matter how kind he was. He grabbed Simon without regard for his personhood, and then just handed him precious materials without informing him of the price. It was confusing and frustrating, but he'd met people like that before—there was always a price to pay, in the end.
The price was always too high, he remembered with a hint of nausea.
However, on the other hand… Grace was nice. He wasn't always successful, but there was no doubt that he was trying to make Simon comfortable. Those hands—huge, leathery, powerful—were always careful with him. If he didn't care, why would he handle Simon with such gentleness? If he was really so cruel, wouldn't he have lost the mask by now?
It had only been a day since they'd brought him onto the ship. Granted, he'd been exhausted and unconscious for most of it, and he'd gotten a very rude awakening this morning, but… Grace seemed nice.
Wasn't that worth something?
Simon let out a quiet, slow breath. His body was bare under the washcloth, and he remained curled up to preserve his body heat. In the back of his mind, some traitorous voice whispered that he knew exactly who could help him.
How pathetic. He was reduced to nothing more than a parasite, feeding off of whatever scraps he was given.
Simon's body tensed as he heard movement from downstairs. He turned to look, craning his neck ever so slightly to peer over to the ladder—only to see a head of messy blond hair pop up.
He stayed still, watching warily as Grace climbed up the ladder into the lab. The man looked worried, and as he started walking around the lab to retrieve something, their eyes met.
"Oh-" Grace's eyes went wide behind his glasses—slightly askew, Simon noticed with some amusement. "Simon! You're- heh, you look comfortable."
Simon blinked, frowning to himself. It struck him, then, that Grace was seeing nothing but his face poking out from a washcloth, as bundled up as he was. He managed a shrug, though the movement probably wasn't noticeable to the titan.
"'m cold," Simon grumbled by way of explanation. At that, Grace frowned and stepped closer.
"Shoot, right- smaller animals lose body heat faster," the man said, which wasn't exactly comforting, but was definitely scientifically accurate. "Okay, um… Well, shoot. I need to disinfect your clothes, but in the meantime… I don't know if you're comfortable with me holding you, maybe?"
Oh. His skin crawled at the very thought, sheer dread freezing him in a panic. He craved warmth, but at the price of his personhood? That was a price too high to pay.
But… this was Grace. He'd earned a bit of trust.
Besides, if he was going to be a good pet, he needed to get accustomed to physical touch. He took in a deep breath to steady himself.
"…Not just me, washcloth too." Simon shot Grace a look, and the man gave him a bright smile.
"Okay," Grace breathed, smiling widely. He stepped closer, his shoulders blocking out the laboratory's cold lights—
"Be careful," Simon added, his breath catching in his chest as the man's hands extended. They reached out, cupped like he was trying to hold a handful of water—
Gently, and agonizingly slow, Grace's fingers came down to cup Simon's form. Even within the confines of the washcloth, there was a noticeable rise in temperature. He shivered at the feeling.
He could feel the soft thud of Grace's heartbeat through the palm under him, even through the thin washcloth. It was strange, being in the man's grasp and not being freaked out, but it was nice. The gentle flex of muscles was interesting at this scale, and he almost wished that the washcloth wasn't present. Almost.
Apparently Grace was having a similar feeling, because when he turned to look up, those blue eyes were wide. Strangely, Grace's pupils had expanded—did that mean something? Whatever, he wasn't a biology expert or something.
"Woah," Grace murmured, just as an enormous thumb brushed against Simon's covered back. As if he, himself, was startled by the contact, Grace's amazement vanished, and worry appeared. "I- sorry, I didn't mean to- this is…"
"I get it," Simon said quietly, hoping that Grace didn't hear how hoarse his voice was."It's… weird."
He was being held up to Grace's face, closely enough that he could easily make out the individual pores on his face. Hell, he could see the individual specks of blue in Grace's eyes, still locked intently on his face. His gaze traveled down, to a mouth big enough that he could easily fit inside if he curled up—okay, he didn't want to think about that one, actually.
Grace's thumb returned, gently brushing up and down his back in careful, slow circles. The fibers of the washcloth, the only barrier between their skin, started to feel pleasantly warm under his touch, and Simon wasn't proud of the way that he melted. Maybe he'd be ashamed later, but now? Well… maybe being a pet wasn't quite so bad.
After a long moment of mutual awe, Grace's face flushed pink. He lowered Simon from his face to cradle him, one-handed, against his chest.
"Here, uh- let me get something for your clothes to soak in…" Grace's voice reverberated throughout his entire body, Simon realized with a start, but he didn't fully hate it. In some ways, it was comforting.
As Grace walked around the lab, Simon in hand, the smaller man began looking around with more curiosity. He could see a row of large, plastic tubs, each hooked up to a set of wires and monitors. The cold light of the lab painted the scene in haunting colors, but he found himself more intrigued than anything else.
"What's in those?" Simon asked, pulling one arm from his washcloth bundle to point. There was a loud hum, and he could feel when Grace's brain processed the question—there was a little jolt behind him, a subtle intake of breath.
"Oh! Those are the taumoeba breeding tanks," Grace said, stepping over in that direction. Simon stayed carefully still in his palm, though he peered with interest at the strange devices. "Remember the astrophage stuff? Well, these little guys are its natural predator!"
Ah. He nearly regretted asking, his heart sinking. Sure enough, these were Grace's other experiments—his brethren, lined up and under constant observation. The good news is that they seemed to be alive. The bad news, regrettably…
"Is there any light in there?" Simon asked quietly, though he already knew the answer.
"Nah, they don't need any! At least, not light in the visible spectrum," Grace explained, one hand gesticulating while the other held him with care. "We pump in astrophage, they eat it, and then we pump in a mix of nitrogen and carbon dioxide to let them breed. The end result is a happy, healthy bundle of micro-organisms!"
Now, that was news. That was a good sign, even! If Grace only worked with smaller organisms, much smaller, then surely he didn't need Simon…
"You taught Rocky about this stuff, too?" Simon asked absentmindedly, glancing up at the man. He was treated to a rather good view of the man's chin and neck, but not much of his face. Right.
"Yeah, a bit!" Grace agreed, nodding. "It helps that I was a teacher, before this mission. Though, Rocky is at a different level compared to my students."
"Your students?" Simon repeated, confused. "I thought you were a scientist."
"Oh, no, I'm a scientist!" Grace was suddenly turning and walking back towards the cabinets along the wall, seemingly searching for something as he opened one and began perusing its contents. "I'm a scientist by training, but after some experience in the field, I began teaching middle school. I liked it a lot, kids are great!"
He'd worked with children, before? Simon blinked. Well, he could see it—Grace didn't swear at all, and he had the exact kind of friendly demeanor that was needed.
"You taught science, then," Simon said, frowning. He remembered his lessons from Eden, and how his teachers had brought in…
"Yep! Middle school biology is fun," Grace said, pushing bottles aside as he seemingly found the right chemical. From the label, it wasn't familiar, but one of the lines of text denoted it as a cleaning agent. "We had a few units. The solar system was my favorite, but we did other stuff, too. Growing plants, dissections, science fair projects…"
"What did you dissect?" Simon asked quietly, clenching the soft, white fabric around himself closely. He immediately regretted the question, but it hung in the air anyways.
"Depended on the age, really," Grace said, nonchalant. "Usually frogs for the younger ones, since mammal dissections are a bit more advanced. The older kids, my students, usually got mice or rats."
Mice did not live long, happy lives on research vessels.
"Oh," Simon managed to choke out, internally horrified. Suddenly, the warmth around him felt suffocating—and it was his own damn fault, really, for having the gall to ask.
"I wasn't ever really a fan of the dissection unit, honestly," he heard. "I'm not immune to small, cute animals, and there were always a few kids that hated it. Like, some of them cried, and I didn't like that."
"What, you- you felt bad for the mice?" Simon asked, keenly aware of the fact that his voice was shaking.
"Yeah! It was easier with the frogs- but y'know, it's always easier with non-mammals. They're different enough that the kids could handle it pretty well," Grace rambled, elbowing the cabinet shut and bringing the container of chemical cleaner over to the sink. He placed it there before walking back to the fume hood, where he carefully put Simon down. "Here, I'll be right back."
Simon allowed himself to be put down without any complaints, still internally processing everything. He watched Grace's back uncertainly.
Grace didn't like dissecting things. Sure, it wasn't guaranteed safety—especially not from a whole planet of curious rock monsters—but it was something. It was a measure of comfort that had been previously unthinkable.
That was it. He wasn't having to stress about which fate he was inevitably due—he would live. Sure, he'd be a pet, but he would live.
He wanted to cry. He had to settle for wrapping his arms around himself under his little washcloth, content for a moment.
He watched as Grace scooped up his bloodied clothes, as well as the bowl of water, and vanished. After a minute or two, he returned without any gloves on his hands and a small smile on his face.
Simon didn't even have time to yelp as he was scooped up once more and held to the man's chest. He leaned into the source of warmth, unrepentant, and waited patiently as Grace began making his way back to the ladder.
"We'll talk in the dorm," Grace informed him, which was fair enough. Simon let out a quiet breath and just closed his eyes for the duration of the ride.
It was soothing, the movement combined with the intense, all-encompassing warmth. He shuddered and scooted closer to Grace's chest, where he could hear the steady thump of the man's heartbeat.
Sue him, he'd basically just been given permission to unclench every muscle in his body. So, he leaned his head back and relaxed.
Before long, they were in the dorm, and Grace held him steady as he flopped down onto one of the beds. Simon's entire body was jostled, but he was kept mostly in the same position.
There was a soft whistle from across the room, outside of Simon's view. Then, Grace whistled back—some kind of rock-monster greeting, then.
"Okay," Grace's voice reverberated throughout his body, and the hand over him suddenly lifted. Simon found himself laying on Grace's stomach, still bundled up in his washcloth. He looked up at the man with no small amount of anxiety. "So… I guess I'll start. Simon, where did you come from?"
Oh, they were getting right into it. Simon frowned, but he readied himself.
"Uh… I was born on Mars, but I'm from Eden, really," Simon said quietly, watching mindfully as Grace's eyes widened. From what he'd gathered about this place, things were… different.
"You're…" Grace looked taken aback, his brow furrowing. Around Simon, Grace's hands came down to rest against the washcloth, partially holding him. Oh, he didn't like that. "You're human, and you're from Mars."
"Well, I was born there, but I'm- well, I'm kinda aligned with Eden," Simon said, stumbling over his words. In truth, he wasn't sure if he'd ever be welcomed back on Eden—no, a coward would never be welcomed back among Father's flock. He was well and truly alone.
"I- no, that's not the…" Grace looked frustrated, and the hands over him twitched threateningly. Suddenly, Grace sighed and there was a thumb rubbing over Simon's back. He flinched, and it retreated. "I meant… I'm surprised that you're from Mars. We don't- I mean, as far as I'm aware, there's no human settlement on Mars."
Okay, he needed to explain more. Simon went to speak, but he was cut off by a loud whistling—and then, a robotic voice. The translator was back!
"Why Grace not ask why Simon is small, question??" Rocky demanded, still outside of Simon's vision. "Grace talk about this, is very interesting!"
"I don't- Rocky, that's mean!" Grace said with a scowl. One of his hands was cupping Simon's back, now, burning hot even through the washcloth. He winced at the loud volume, but it didn't relent. "We're not getting right into that!"
"We- we can…?" Simon said hesitantly, wincing as Grace's eyes locked on him again. "But I don't- y'know, I don't know how useful I'd be, talking about it. I don't really know why. Honestly, when you found me, I thought I was already dead."
"What?" Grace had sat up slightly, and Simon scrambled for purchase on the man's chest. He eventually just extracted his arms from the washcloth and grabbed onto Grace's shirt, pulling himself upwards. "Sorry, I'm just- that's a lot. I remember you asked us to… to make it quick. Honestly, though, I'm mostly curious about the submarine."
He was probably curious about the blood, too, Simon thought. He frowned, but he couldn't really blame the man.
"Uh…" He searched for the right words. The answer wasn't in the ocean or the moon, but far beyond. "Have you ever heard of the Quiet Rapture?"
He received a confused blink. Right, sure—
"What is last word, question?" Rocky suddenly asked, and Simon watched as Grace frowned.
"Oh, boy… Uh, cataclysmic event with religious cultural meaning," Grace explained unsteadily. It was probably a good explanation, but Simon was just stuck on the fact that the rock-monster didn't have a word for it. "It's… supposedly an event where most humans die."
"…No Eridian equivalent for this word."
"Well, it's a relatively recent concept for us, too," Grace stated, which was yet another shock. "I think it became popular around the 1800s."
…What?
"Hold on, no- what year is it??" Simon asked sharply, his blood running cold. The 1800s weren't even remotely 'recent' in their history—unless they were talking relative to the dinosaurs, in which case, sure, he was inclined to agree.
"Uh…" He watched as Grace's brow furrowed, his gaze turning to the distance for a beat. Finally, he said, "2036, I think? I left Earth in 2021."
"You are very bad at math, statement."
2036. He was more than 300 years in the past, somehow.
Oh, no. No, that was—
"Hand-" Simon choked out, reaching blindly for Grace's fingers. He managed to grab onto the man's thumb and pulled it over himself, ignoring the obvious way Grace's breath caught at his touch. "Over me, now."
"Oh!" Grace sounded startled, but he obeyed. Suddenly, Simon was pressed down into Grace's chest, surrounded by nothing but warmth. He shuddered and squeezed his eyes shut, forcing his breath to slow down.
He remained in that small, dark space for a while longer. He could feel Grace's heartbeat thudding gently against his back, pressing him down into a solid wall of muscle and fat. He pressed his face into the soft material of the man's shirt.
Simon could faintly hear Rocky's singing, and there was a soft whistle from above him. He promptly ignored it.
He was in the past. Whatever had happened to him, it had somehow sent him backwards in time—in addition to making him smaller. Or, worse, had it sent him somewhere else, entirely?
At long last, Simon squirmed lightly, and the hand over him lifted slowly. It remained curled around his back, ever-present, and Simon blearily met Grace's worried eyes.
He didn't dare to hesitate.
"It was 2370, in my… my reality," Simon said, the word sickening on his tongue. From the look on Grace's face, it was clear that he'd arrived at a similar conclusion. "I… Fuck, this is insane.
"If there's a way to return you to…" Grace hesitated there, visibly worrying at his lip. The hand cupping Simon's back was closer, now, and a thumb rubbed along his upper arm. "We'll try, Simon. I promise."
He couldn't help a quiet, bitter laugh.
"They'd just throw me right back in a cell," he admitted softly, pulling up his knees to his chest. He bundled the washcloth tighter around himself, more unwilling than ever to lose that safety net. "Or they'd send me back down to…"
There wasn't a world where he was allowed to live peacefully. That was too kind a fate for the Butcher of Eden.
"Why would Simon be in cell, question?" Rocky suddenly asked, and his stomach dropped.
"I don't think- it isn't really important," Simon said quietly, bowing his head. Internally, he was cursing himself—why'd he think to mention something like that?? If they knew what he was, they'd realize that killing him would basically be a public service.
"Rocky curious!"
"I'm kinda curious, too," Grace said, and there was a gentle prod against his side. Simon winced at the movement, but it didn't hurt, it was just sudden.
He hated this. If they wanted an answer, he knew that he couldn't keep anything from them for long.
"I was-" Simon's voice broke. He scowled suddenly, frustration boiling over in the pit of his stomach. "Stop- don't look at me. Please."
It was a dumb demand to make, but Grace seemed all too eager to indulge him. Those blue eyes closed without question. Simon huffed and tugged Grace's hand closer again, suddenly craving more pressure on his back.
It was grounding, in some strange way—the pressure. It was like he had the body weight of an entire person laying over him, pleasant and hazy. When had he ever experienced something even remotely similar? When was the last time that someone had touched him without cringing away in disgust?
After a long moment, he said quietly, "I'm… I was arrested for terrorism. It's a long story, but to serve my sentence, they welded me into the sub to go on a… I guess- a data collection mission."
There was silence. Then, Grace's hand lifted slightly, and he was met with intense, doubtful eyes.
"You're… You? You were arrested for terrorism??" Grace said incredulously, which was honestly laughable. Did he think Simon was harmless, just because of his size?
"What does that word mean, question??" Rocky asked, somehow managing to sound confused, even through the translator. His song echoed through the room for a beat, ringing in Simon's ears. "Also, it sound like Simon already punish for crime. Good, no more crime!"
"That's- not how crimes work, man," Simon said through gritted teeth. He glared up at Grace, who immediately averted his eyes—good. "Not this crime, at least."
"Weird. Grace, give Rocky word, please."
"Terrorism is, uh… Basically a violent crime, with political motivations," Grace stumbled over his words, squeezing his eyes closed. Then, one of his hands came up to grab his glasses and put them aside, before he started pinching the bridge of his nose. "Okay, hold on- Simon, what did you do??"
"Does it matter??" Simon said sharply, scowling. As soon as he did, Grace's eyes opened, and his stomach dropped. "I'm- I'm sorry, I shouldn't have- I'm sorry-"
"No, no, Simon, it's okay!" Grace said, a sad crease to his brows. "You're okay. If you don't want to talk about it, it's fine. I'll be honest, I just wasn't expecting terrorism."
Okay, maybe that was reasonable. Simon winced and nodded, curling in on himself. Around him, Grace's fingers folded down closer—unfailingly gentle, to his credit.
Simon didn't know what to say. He had a sinking, awful feeling in the pit of his stomach. He didn't want to lose the kindness, the gentle touch, the warmth. He'd never been treated with such tenderness in his life, aside from perhaps his youth. How could he jeopardize that?
It felt childish, but he wanted to ask Grace to make him a promise—that his crimes wouldn't change anything, here. It was cruel to ask, but… Well, he was a cruel person.
Eventually, he said quietly, "Can we do this later, maybe…? Not the- the whole talk, but…"
He was ashamed. So, so terribly ashamed.
"Let's just talk about the other stuff, then," Grace said. Simon nodded, and the hand over him pressed down against him once more—just a hair's breadth away from being too much, but wonderful. "The Quiet Rapture- you mentioned that, and it sounds important."
He could do that one.
"That was when the stars and planets disappeared," Simon finally said, and he felt the musculature underneath him stiffen. "The only things left behind were black holes and space stations. I lived on one of them- Eden."
"What in the world…?" Grace murmured, seemingly horrified. "What, just- all at once? It all disappeared?"
Simon nodded shortly. He could feel Grace's heartbeat against his cheek—which, frankly, was still a bit frightening. "Most of it, apart from a few moons. The remnants of humanity splintered into factions—fighting, sabotaging… killing."
Rocky let out a nervous-sounding hum, and Grace's lips thinned. He winced.
He didn't miss it. Well, that wasn't totally true—he missed a few things about Eden. The safety was nice—the food, not so much. The prayers… The hymns… He was a universe away and yet.
The memories of Eden burned in his chest, smoldering embers of an inferno that had once raged. Now, he felt colder than ever.
"After- when I was arrested, I was left alone," Simon said quietly. "Long time. Dunno how long. Then, when- y'know, when resources got low… They needed someone to explore one of the- the moons."
"And moon had liquid, question?" Rocky asked, and there was a strange, mechanical sound. Simon blinked, and there was another sound—
He turned to look, just slightly, and saw Rocky. He jumped, ducking back into Grace's hand—only for the man to laugh quietly.
"Sorry, I should've warned you- Rocky can move pretty quietly," Grace said, the chest under him vibrating with warm, pleasant laughter. Huh. "Not sure if I told you about it, but he gets around in that xenonite ball pretty well."
"I remember from when you guys installed the door," Simon said, keeping his eyes intently locked on the rock-monster. Sure enough, he was surrounded by that strange, paneled atmospheric ball. He felt a chill race up his spine, even as warm as he was in Grace's grasp. "Uh… hi."
"Hello! Rocky repeat- moon had liquid, question?" Rocky's middle—his head?— tilted to the side, easily visible from Simon's vantage point.
"Uh, yeah, it…" Simon swallowed the fear. Suddenly, one of Grace's hands came down to push against Rocky's xenonite ball. Then, Rocky was moving further back, and Simon shuddered with relief. "It had an ocean. Uh, the ocean was made of- of human blood. Things were… bad down there. And then, I guess I ended up here."
At that, Grace's outstretched hand faltered. He could feel the shock in the room—he wasn't surprised, if even the Quiet Rapture was a new concept for them.
"Okay, I figured there was a lot of…" Grace trailed off. "Wait, that blood- did it belong to the people that vanished…?"
"Between prison and the sub, I didn't get to ask a lot of questions," Simon admitted with a quiet sense of bitterness. "But, uh… I don't know. Hope not, since it… Well, you saw what it did."
"Speaking of that, we probably need to take your vitals," Grace said with a serious look on his face. At that, he even sat up, sending Simon scrambling for a handhold. "Here, it's okay…"
Grace's hand cupped him, still bundled up in his damned washcloth, and lowered him down to rest in his lap. Simon didn't even struggle, he just remained limp as Grace did whatever he wanted. He didn't really have much of a choice, and frankly, he was exhausted. He didn't want to make choices right now.
So, when Grace laid Simon down in his lap and started petting his hair? He didn't fight.
Even as Grace called out, "Armando, I need you to take Simon's vitals. Remember the permission protocol this time, please."
"Yes, Captain," the robot's voice rang out, just as the arms lowered down from the ceiling once again. Simon stiffened, but Grace's hands remained clasped around him, calm as anything. He tried to take deep breaths. "Patient Simon is too small for typical vital measurement. Employing standard veterinary care measurement tools."
"And you can't pick me up!" Simon said sharply, looking up at Grace nervously for confirmation. The man nodded, a smile playing at his lips.
"That's right- Armando, you got that?"
The robot let out a quiet chime sound. "Preference confirmed. Patient Simon, do I have your permission to evaluate your blood pressure with a oscillometric device?"
Simon glanced up at Grace with a raised brow.
"It's like a blood pressure cuff," Grace explained, bringing one finger down to tap on Simon's upper arm. "He'd put the cuff here and expand it with air, then he'd listen for the sound of your heartbeat over time."
"Oh, okay. Um, yes, you can do it," Simon called out, and he carefully removed one arm from the washcloth around him. The arms descended quickly and wrapped a plastic cuff around his upper arm, moving with a frightening precision for their speed.
The cuff slowly began inflating, and a large, round object was placed against it. Simon cringed away, his breath caught at the sudden proximity—but through it all, Grace's hands around him were steady and calm.
After about two minutes, when the cuff was fully deflated, the arms swept the cuff and round object back up into the ceiling. Then, they lowered again with a thermometer—this was one that he did recognize.
"Patient Simon, do I have your permission to evaluate your internal body temperature with a rectal thermometer?" Armando's voice rang out again, and his entire body twitched.
No fucking way was anything going up his—
"Nope! No, you do not!" Simon said sharply, yanking Grace's hand fully over himself for safety.
There was a loud laugh from above him. "Uh, Armando, just use an underarm thermometer. We can keep it there for a while if needed, but the rectal reading is- we don't need that."
"Evaluating a patient's temperature is less effective under the arm."
"That's true, but this is a part of the permission stuff, remember?" Grace's voice sounded patient, and he was idly rubbing a finger along Simon's lower back. He shivered at the sensation, his stomach feeling strange. "He said no, so grab the other thermometer."
There was another chime, and the arms vanished. Simon breathed a quiet sigh of relief, finally going lax once more.
"Thank you," he said, reaching up to pat Grace's thumb.
The man in question smiled gently at him, warm and pleasant. "Yeah, no problem. Man, you're way more touchy today, huh?"
And just like that, Simon was found out. He huffed out a quiet, nervous laugh, and shrugged.
"I, uh… Honestly, until we talked earlier, I thought that you were gonna… Uh…" Simon trailed off, rubbing his neck. He couldn't help a quiet, shameful laugh. Finally, he said, "Thought you were gonna dissect me… Made me nervous, I guess."
And that was the crux of it. He'd been so afraid of the rules suddenly changing, of being trapped and cut open, that he'd been in constant fight or flight. Without that, suddenly the world seemed… nicer. Gentler, even. Suddenly, Grace's touch didn't feel like a threat.
He wasn't sure what he expected Grace's reaction to be. Laughter, maybe? Nonchalance? Strangely, he didn't receive either of those.
Instead, all he received was a look of pure, genuine horror.
"What…?"