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    Summary

    “… incinerated my prototypes,” he is saying as Viktor watches him; half-conversational, half-explanatory. “A few times, actually, by now. It’s like cat and mouse: I make them, they incinerate them … I don’t think they ever realised I had any other crystals or they’d definitely incinerate those, too.”

    “Bastards,” Viktor says, seriously.

    Jayce grins up at him again. “Yeah,” he says, “bastards. The whole lot.”

    They look at each other oddly, both blinking. Then Jayce grins again, as though he is in on some sort of great joke that only the two of them are privy to. For the first time in a very long time, Viktor feels very aware of his mask standing between the world an his face. 

    Perhaps the cooling system is clogged again. He feels oddly warm.

    Or: Zaunite shut-in Viktor hides in his lab and behind his mask, until a tipsy Academy drop-out stumbles into his life on a reckless gander into the Undercity. Something blooms.

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