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“This would be going a lot faster if you actually decided to help once in a while,” said Ed.
“Oh, I’d simply get in the way,” Oswald replied, drifting through the room with the air of a detached observer in an art gallery. “I don’t know the first thing about submarine construction.” He chuckled. “Not exactly my forté.”
“You don’t need to be an expert to help. You could hand me my tools, at the very least.”
When Ed glanced over his shoulder, he was incensed to see Oswald inspecting his nails, apparently unaware that Ed had even spoken. Edward groaned and looked back at the two metal pieces he held in his hands. The structure of the submarine was one thing, but to recreate a radar system from scratch with this pile of rubble was another entirely.
As eclectic as the library was, it didn’t exactly have a step-by-step guide on the inner workings of a radar—not that he would need it, exactly, but some kind of guidance would’ve been helpful. He dropped one of the components onto his desk, keeping the dirtier of the two in his hand, and picked up a rag to polish it with. His palms grew sweaty and his mouth grew dry.
“I think it’s plenty clean by now.”
“Huh?”
Ed looked up. Oswald was giving him a strange look.
“I said,” Oswald repeated slowly, “I think that’s clean by now. It’s spotless.”
Oswald raised his brows and pointed with his eyes at the component in Edward’s hands. Ed looked down. His right hand was fisted tight around the rag, and the component’s metallic surface gleamed back at him, perfectly pristine. Rigidly prising his fingers away from the cloth, he placed the rag and the component onto the table in front of him. His hand cramped at his side, spasming a bit.
“Ed?”
He glanced up. Oswald looked weirded out.
“Well?” Ed snapped defensively. “Are you going to help me or are you just going to stand there?”
To Ed’s relief, Oswald returned to his snippy self.
“Actually,” Oswald sniffed, “I have a haul coming in from my men.”
“And you’re going to do what, exactly?”
“Supervise.”
“Great.” Ed scoffed. “I’m sure you’ll be as helpful there as you were here.”
“At least they don’t talk back.”
“They know you’d kill them if they did.”
“In that case, they must have more sense than you!”
Oswald left fast enough to have the last word—though not without an extra glance back at Ed, his expression bothered in a way that went beyond simple irritation. Once he was gone, Ed shook out his aching hand. He peered at the shining metal piece for far too long, before getting back to work. He had a submarine to build.
After continuous observation, Oswald concluded that Edward was acting strange—stranger than usual, that was.
What remained of Oswald's men had managed to scrounge together enough food to keep Oswald, Edward, and Edward the human sustained until the submarine was in place. That was the plan, anyway. However, the submarine plan was stalling, the deadline getting pushed back further and further each day, and Oswald's confidence in this entire escapade was dwindling by the moment.
Edward had cleared out a table in the library away from his work, allowing them enough space to lay out their dinner. Oswald had tutted at the drab sight, tracking down a few leftover candles and candle holders and lighting them for decoration. The room was fairly dim by the time they settled down for their meal. It was only when Oswald took his first bite that he realised they had unthinkingly assumed the seating positions they had taken back in his mayoral days. He had to stop himself from choking on his food at the thought. Edward looked up at him curiously when Oswald beat his fist against his chest, coughing. Face reddening, Oswald hurried to swallow the food and distract him.
"Say what you might about their intelligence," he started, "but my men can certainly scrounge up some good food, can't they?"
"It's serviceable," Edward replied, rolling some food along the plate with his fork.
"Would you just say you like it?" Oswald exclaimed, throwing up his hands. "I even made sure there were no onions."
Oswald bit his lip at the slip; he didn't like the idea of Edward knowing he'd remembered his preferences. But Edward didn't tease him. In fact, he said nothing, sitting silently and staring blankly at Oswald's face. Edward blinked intermittently, eyelids fluttering at half-mast, but did not reply and didn't return to his meal.
"Edward? Ed," Oswald said after a few moments. "Hello? Say something."
Edward looked back down at his plate, skewered a piece of meat, and went back to eating.
"What was that?" Oswald asked.
Ed looked confused.
"What was what?"
"That. Just there, you were…"
He almost said "ignoring me," but that wasn't quite it, was it? It was more like he wasn't even there. Oswald decided to conduct a test.
"You didn't answer my question. What do you think?"
Edward shook his head minutely, brow furrowed. "I… think it's a good idea."
Oswald nodded, eyes wide, as he watched Edward feign nonchalance. So he hadn't been conscious—he had no idea what Oswald had said. Oswald's fingers worried around his cutlery, fidgeting uncomfortably, but as soon as Ed's attention returned to him, he plastered on a smile.
"That settles it," he said. "You're going to see Lee."
"What?" Edward exclaimed.
"You agreed it was a good idea," Oswald said, throwing down his cutlery so he could point.
"I—"
Edward tried to disagree, but obviously didn't have the information he needed to navigate the new direction the conversation had taken. He couldn't admit that he didn't know what he was agreeing to without revealing that something was wrong.
"It's either Lee or Lucius," Oswald said. "But it's clear you need some kind of medical attention. I can't have you steering the submarine in whatever condition you're in right now."
Edward startled. It was clear to Oswald that he hadn't realised how obvious these absences had become.
"Lucius, then," Ed agreed begrudgingly.
"Fine. I'll have you see Lucius in the morning."
"Fine," Edward grumbled.
"Good."
"Yes. Good."
They both shovelled aggressive amounts of food into their mouths to keep from bickering. Oswald couldn't help but steal glances at Ed throughout the meal, chewing with too much force and watching for signs of absence. He'd have this fixed, if it took all the treasure in his vault to do so.