Context: Sometimes, when Lincoln thinks that Dreamer is getting too upset or stressed or frustrated by a task, he will put them in anti-gravity time-out. The first few times he saw them essentially crashing out over an assignment or a particularly difficult piece of magic, he would ask if they wanted a break from gravity, and they would say yes. After a while, they told him to just do it if he sees them losing their mind, because sometimes they're so in it that they cannot zoom out, and the shock of floating helps them recenter.
Dreamer is about three seconds away from genuinely setting this textbook on fire when, suddenly, the book slips out of their reach, along with the rest of the ground they were sitting on and everything surrounding them.
Dreamer turns over to look at the graviton, who hasn't even looked up from his own work.
"I could feel you plotting arson from here. No open flames in my living room."
"You mutter, when you start to get upset."
"No I don't," Dreamer rebuts immediately. Lincoln only laughs at this, finally putting the book down.
"Want some company?" he asks.
"I dunno," Dreamer says in mock indignance. "Are you going to make more false, defamatory claims against my person?"
Another laugh and Lincoln stands up, walks closer to where Dreamer was sitting, and then he's floating up beside them.
"Only if you light an open flame in my apartment."
"A truce, then," they say with theatrical dignity, extending a hand out for a handshake.
"Truce," Lincoln agrees, reaching out his hand as well.
But as soon as their palms touch, Dreamer grip's Lincoln's hand in theirs and pulls him to one side, effectively sending them both spinning out towards the walls of the apartment.
Lincoln yelps as his torso gently collides with his blue wallpaper, but Dreamer is too busy dodging a nearby light fixture and then crashing themself into some thick curtains to make fun of him.
Fortunately, the force of the collision is minor; nothing breaks, and nobody is even bruised. But as Dreamer attempts to emerge from their self-imposed crash site, they find themself tangled up in the fabric of the heavy curtains, swatting indignantly at the stuff.
This Lincoln is lucky enough to see, and he does nothing but laugh at their plight.
"And that's the karma of entering into a false truce," he says.
"Fucking- okay fine, touche, actual truce this time," Dreamer concedes, finally unstuck. They gently push off from the windowsill with their right arm, gently floating back to the center of the room. "I mean it this time."
They extend a hand in truce.
Lincoln smiles, expression softening from mocking glee to genuine fondness.
"Truce," he says, drifting towards them and taking their hand.
Slowly, as they touch, he lowers them down again to the ground.
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