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It's rare for a day to go by without any bodies being harvested or sewn together, but today happens to be one of those days. Victoria Frankenstein sits at the desk in the lab, tapping her pencil against the notes she's been writing down. She can't have an experiment continue if she doesn't know how to do so. Sure, science is about trial and error, but not when it comes to building some bodies. No, some are more difficult than others. It hurts her brain, and she's stuck, unable to work.
In stumbles Ygor with his large leather bag, heaving a big sigh. He's still got dirt patches on him.
"There we go, Doctor! New organs freshly dug from the grave!" He announces with pride. He drops the bag onto the floor, rummaging in it to pull out some jars of organs; a heart, a kidney, a pancreas.
"Thanks, Ygor," Victoria mutters offhandedly, tired.
Ygor removes and tosses his gloves to the side, noticing her downed state and cocks his head. "What's wrong, Doctor?"
"I'm becoming more stressed from our projects," Victoria explains. She doesn't look at him. "I shouldn't be getting worn down, Ygor. This is my great great grandfather's legacy, I can't live it down."
"It is normal to be tired," Ygor replies with a shrug as he limps over to place the jars on the shelves. "That is how the human body works."
"I know," Victoria growls, tired of his Captain Obvious shenanigans. "I'm a scientist, you don't have to tell me that."
Ygor is, well, hurt by that, and it shows. Only briefly though as he shakes the hurt from his mind, his eyes trying to blink back to normal though unreadable behind his goggles. He's learned to brush off little remarks like that from her. Besides, they've had their share of arguments and fights that have been much worse than this. He shouldn't complain or even feel hurt at all by this little jab.
"Of course, Doctor," He says calmly while lowering his head in shame, hoping to keep her frustration down. "Umm...might I suggest something?" He tries after a few seconds of awkward silence. It's not exactly common for him to speak up first on things.
"What is it?" Victoria's tone is very clearly "get out of here and leave me alone", but she might as well hear what he has to say. He might not be the smartest assistant, but he's had his good moments here and there.
"How about we just rest, yeah?" Ygor is a little braver in suggesting this. "Leave this work for tomorrow, yes? You are tired, Ygor is tired, and it is late."
Victoria sighs again, rubbing her hands on her legs as she blinks up at the ceiling. She doesn't like admitting it, but Ygor is right. "Yes, we'll finish this tomorrow," She concludes, almost as if it was her idea. She stands, walking past Ygor and heading out the door into the hall. She doesn't even look at him when she passes, hadn't looked at him once this whole interaction.
Ygor doesn't like when she avoids looking at him. Makes him feel like an unwanted burden. He isn't sure if he is part of the problem, or if she's just too caught up in her work. Hopefully it's the latter, though it's only the lesser of two evils and not really a better option.
He follows her out of the lab, closing and locking the door behind them. He catches up, trying to walk beside her. She allows it.
One thing that Ygor has admired about Victoria, other than her genius, is her hair. Lovely, long ebony hair. He doesn't remember the last time he's seen it let down; she always has it put up in a bun or ponytail to keep safe during their work. He can tell that she takes great care of it. It shines in the light of the torches just right without being greasy, and it looks so soft.
Victoria makes her way, with Ygor as her shadow, through the halls and staircases to one of the sitting rooms, letting gravity pull her down onto a couch. Ygor is unsure whether to sit next to her or just awkwardly stand there and wait for a command or request.
Victoria thinks briefly at her snapping at him just a minute ago, how unnecessary and rude it was. She feels bad, just a little, and decides to be a little more lenient and relaxed. It's her own offhand way of apologizing without having to say the words. Actions are louder than words, too.
"You can sit here, Ygor," Her voice, while trying to be welcoming, is frustrated but worn and almost mumbled. He quickly does so, smiling gratefully. His grin tugs at her heart, and she allows herself a small upward twitch of her mouth in return, and only that.
"Erm... Doctor?" Ygor tries cautiously, voice small. "Ygor isn't sure if he's ever said this but... Ygor likes your hair. You take care of it very seriously, that is good. Lessens the chance of the pitter patter of the lice on your skull."
"Not the most flattering expansion on a compliment I've received, but I'll take it," Victoria replies. "You definitely need to take better care of yours."
"If there was more time, maybe, but with all the grave digging and the bodies and the projects, there's no time."
"Please tell me you clean up before you go to bed."
"E-erm..."
"Ygor," She rubs her temples, her assistant very good at giving her a headache. "You're a walking flea market. And not the good kind."
Ygor swallows at that, looking down to his wringing hands, embarrassed. Victoria reminds herself to be less snarky. Again, she lets out a sort of olive branch.
"You know what," She says. "Go wash your hands and come back."
Ygor is puzzled at this request, but he does so without question. After thoroughly washing his hands he returns, seeing Victoria taking her hair tie and clips out. Her dark hair cascades around her shoulders like a midnight waterfall.
Ygor takes it in, admiring the cleanliness of it.
"Come here," She beckons him over, and he scurries to sit back down next to her. She takes some of her hair into her hand, holding it out. "Feel it."
Ygor's never had a chance to touch her hair, but the fact she's letting him do so now is astonishing and touching. She's rarely let him touch her, but this sudden brief time of vulnerability is presented now, so he takes it. He's hesitant in doing so, his hands almost shaking as he slowly reaches out to touch her presented strands of hair. When he finally does touch it, the softness of her hair comforts him immediately.
Victoria watches him, her gaze on him steeled but curious. While her hair isn't the most protected part of her, it does feel vulnerable to let it down in front of him, or anyone for that matter. She keeps it up nice and tight to symbolize her own tight and no nonsense demeanor, and that she, just like her hair, is out of reach. Emotions are for the weak, business is for the strong. To let her hair down around someone is a symbol of attempted trust, at least to her. She is not one for sentiment, especially not spoken sentiment. She hopes, though, that Ygor understands why she's doing this. It's her own way of asking for forgiveness, even if she'll never say it aloud.
She hates to admit it, but a part of her has gone slightly soft around him. He's reliable, obedient, dedicated, and understanding. Has she used these traits to her advantage? Yes, without a doubt. And yet, his loyalty to her has proven trustworthy. It wasn't a blind loyalty, for he knew his limits and when she would be wrong about certain factors. Even after all the squabbles and tiffs, he stayed. Whether it was because he wanted to or because he really had nowhere else to go, she wasn't entirely sure. They have had their good times. Successful experiments, excellent finds when digging up and rummaging through bodies, and some nice dinners as well.
She feels unworthy to be his friend after how she's treated him. While not all bad, the bad was absolutely there. She likes him, cares for him, whether she wants to or not. She does want him to stay. She is just unsure of how to let her guard down around him while also being so focused on her family legacy. She has to run a firm hand in order to keep the monsters under control, and she needed to be strict with Ygor to show she meant business. Getting attached means hurting someone, therefore their hurt stabbing you in return. She can't have that, for herself or Ygor.
They're both here though, with Ygor barely touching the hair that trails down from her head and lays on the palm of her hand. She inches her hand forward a bit more, silently letting Ygor know he can take it in his hands. He does so, gently holding her hair, and she lets her arm down, both hands resting gently in her lap.
The sight of Ygor admiring her hair makes her want to smile again, but she holds back. She can't show too much emotional vulnerability now. One step at a time, slowly.
"So soft, so shiny..." Ygor remarks, his voice showing his awe. Again, it pulls at Victoria's heart. He gently runs his fingers through the ends that he was given permission to touch, still weary about getting too physically close to her. That's another thing Victoria likes about him, he respects her boundaries. She needs to do better with respecting his, she notes.
"Your...liking to my hair is appreciated." She makes herself say. He lets out a tiny little giggle, just a brief one, his emotional vulnerability also showing.
They stay there like that for a few minutes, Ygor combing through the ends of her hair with Victoria letting herself watch him, study him and his reactions. It is, in a weird way, relaxing. Victoria won't let herself relax completely, no, but she's not tense like she is during their projects.
"Alright, thank you Ygor," She says sincerely, smiling just briefly as she stands, her hair falling out of his hands and back to herself. She can swear that she sees a flicker of disappointment go across his face, but she blinks and it's gone. Yes, this is what getting close to someone does. It just hurts them in the end. She sighs, steeling herself, making her way to a mirror nearby. While not fully wanting to put her hair (and emotions) back up tight again and block herself off from Ygor again, she needs to show some kind of control, to herself if anything. She wants that while still showing she wants to be better with Ygor. Balance, that's what she wants to show.
She decides on a braid. A Dutch braid. Not too loose and vulnerable, but not too tight and closed off either.
She begins to braid her hair, but her hands are unsteady. It's worse that Ygor is still there. She could have easily just left to her room to do it, but she didn't. Her hands shake as she tries to cross strands of her hair, but they keep falling. Ygor is watching her, noticing her struggle. She hates his goggle hidden eyes watching her, so she huffs and briskly heads to the door.
"Wait," Ygor reaches out. "Um, Ygor has never braided hair before, but... would like to try. If you'll allow Ygor to do so, of course."
Victoria raises a brow at that as she turns back around to face him, curious as to where this came from. Ygor wants to braid her hair? Is this a symbol of him accepting her apology and trying to make amends?
Ygor holds his breath, his body tense in fear that he crossed a boundary. Instead of yelling at him, though, Victoria gradually makes her way back to the couch, sitting down next to him again. She turns her back to him, not out of malice this time, but to give him better access to her hair. It's new to face away from Ygor in this manner. She usually faces away from him when she's done with his services, is upset with him, is busy, or just heading elsewhere. It's never been for him.
"May I touch your hair again, Doctor?" His voice is small and hesitant again. She nods, just once, and his fingers are going through her hair again. He's gentle, so slow and gentle, his touch feather light, same as their vulnerability in this sort of bonding. He lets himself delicately caress more of her hair, now that he's allowed to do so. "Your hair is very thick and healthy," He remarks. "Much better than the rats that scurry throughout the catacombs. They have dirty fur. Sometimes matted, too. Not good."
It's endearing to hear Ygor talk about the rats, to hear him being casual like this.
"Alright, tell Ygor how to do this," Ygor requests politely, voice showing his preparedness.
"Take a medium section of my hair from my temples to the back of my head," Victoria instructs. Ygor does so, fingers still delicate yet diligent. "Good. Now split them in three equal sections. Put two strands in one hand and one in the other," Again, Ygor follows her command easily. "Now, take one of the strands on the side and bring it under the middle one with the opposite hand while still holding on to all the strands."
She continues instructing, with Ygor following and learning easily. Teamwork. Non-stressful, relaxing teamwork. The atmosphere is restful, peaceful. They like it, sharing in it.
Ygor is a fast learner, very fast. He learns the pattern only after hearing it once, and his hands weave with her hair as he twists and crosses it, working his way down. Victoria is proud of him for both learning so quickly and in respecting her hair. Every time a bit of hair falls or comes loose, he brings it back to its rightful place in the braid before continuing. Once or twice he almost makes a mistake, whether it's crossing the wrong strand or putting too much strain, but he corrects himself right away. Again, it's endearing.
"Right," She hears him mumbling to himself as he works. "That one goes over, this goes through, under here and back through there..."
Oh, Ygor. Focused as ever.
His gentle attention to her hair feels very nice and soothing, and she feels her eyelids starting to flicker and droop. She snaps them awake, silently berating herself. She can't let down too much of her guard, and she's certainly not going to fall asleep around him, let alone next to him. No, that's too much.
She forces herself to stay awake and sitting up as Ygor works, her eyes looking around the room to distract herself from falling into slumber. She sees a small table in the corner of the room, remembering two moments she's had with Ygor there. One is a good memory; Victoria was trying to figure out a solution to a problem for an experiment while sitting at that table, and Ygor came in and had helped her figure it out. She remembers smiling at him, a rare gesture from her, and noticing how he lit up at her good mood. The other memory though, is not so good; Ygor had ran in here, trying to flee Victoria's wrath after putting the wrong chemical fluids in a body. She'd launched her notebook at him and it smacked his head then thudded onto the table.
The two memories plague Victoria's mind, her brain throbbing bittersweetly. She shuts her eyes, trying to block them out; the good memory is too sentimental, and the bad one shows how cruel she's been at times. They both hurt in different ways.
"Victoria?" Ygor uses her name, having noticed a shift in her mood. His voice is soft and concerned, open. Her brain glitches at that. It's not often he says her first name alone, it's almost always been "Doctor" or "Doctor Victoria", never just her name.
"I'm fine, Ygor," She lies, her throat tight. Quick, change the subject. "How's the braid coming along?"
"Almost done, Doctor." Ygor replies, voice back to being more professional. Victoria doesn't like him switching back to her title so soon, doesn't like that the moment got ruined. It's understandable though, since this vulnerability thing is new for them, this type of bonding. She can't blame him. Besides, she can't let him get too close, right? Can't let him become a friend to her. Friends get in the way, they always have.
Until Ygor.
The moment he finishes the braid she ties it in herself and stands, the touch of his hands suddenly too much to handle.
"Thank you, Ygor, for the braid," She also returns her voice to professional mode but disliking it. "It is now time for me to turn in. You should do the same. Good night."
She heads out the door briskly as soon as she finishes her biddings. Ygor sits there, alone in the room. His handiwork was very sturdy, with what he saw briefly of the braid finished and tied. He's pretty sure she likes it too since she tied it in and didn't undo it, and it makes him feel good about himself. He hopes that he and the Doctor will have another special moment like this again soon. He removes his apron and lets himself lay down on the couch, ready to drift to sleep, dreaming about the day he and Victoria can one day be closer, healthier friends.
In another part of the manor, Victoria is also waiting to fall asleep, the braid still in her hair. The last things that cross her mind before sleep takes her are Ygor's smile and the feeling of his hands weaving her hair together, just like their bond.