Where are your glasses?! You can't see without your glasses!
Pairing: Enjin x Reader; Gris x Reader; Zanka x Reader; Follo x Reader; Jabber x Reader; Zodyl x Reader (2nd POV)
Word Count: Enjin (897w), Gris (977w), Zanka (1k), Follo (820w), Jabber (887w), Zodyl (931w)
Synopsis: Your glasses broke. How they react.
Warnings/Notes/Tags: Very funny, fluff, Reader uses glasses (like me!), Mentions of blood on Zanka's part, suggestiveness on Jabber's part,
- 🎶 Summertime: The Sundays
The jeep rumbled nicely as Enjin drove. Per usual, it wasn’t a nice ride with a calm atmosphere and symphonic music on the radio. It was pure and utter chaos. Sharp turns and twists, loud pop music in the radio, and seconds of airtime that make you grab onto a support handle as you crash back down to the ground with a heavy thud.
As scary as it was, it surely got your adrenaline running. Which was why you agreed to such a thing on an off day. Enjin agreed to it too. Nothing was better than driving and having a fun time with the love of your life who encouraged such dangerous behavior.
“Enjin, go faster!” You yelled over the music, signaling with your hand in case he didn’t hear.
“Wrong setting, girl!” He practically laughed from his own dirty mind.
Nonetheless, your wish was his command and his boot slammed the gas all the way down. The jeep jostled, sending you and Enjin flat against the seats and the view outside turned blurry from his speed. No doubt his jeep was pushing 5 Gs.
“Again!” You yelled as you felt the jeep decelerate. No way Enjin was already slowing down! What a chicken!
“Again?” Enjin shot you a grin from behind the wheel. “You're gonna get us killed one day.”
“You say that like it's a bad thing.”
The jeep roared as Enjin floored it. Immediately, you regretted every life decision that had led to this moment. The vehicle launched forward like it had personally taken offense to the road. Wind screamed through the small openings of the windows. The radio blasted some obnoxiously upbeat pop song. Enjin cackled like a man who had never once heard the phrase ‘safe driving practices’. You were having the time of your life.
“Girl, if I go any faster, we're gonna see tomorrow before today ends!”
“That's all the permission I needed!”
The engine growled. The speedometer climbed. The laws of physics filed a formal complaint. The land ahead gave opportunity for a sharp curve due to a trash pile. Enjin and you both saw it. Now, a sane person would've slowed down. Enjin was not a sane person.
He yanked the wheel and the jeep drifted. The tires screamed as your soul exited your body. And you became intimately acquainted with the passenger-side window.
Everything stopped. The jeep straightened out after tilting into a forty-five angle from the rough turn while the music kept playing, now being lowered by Enjin as he slowly eased off the gas. .
"...Was that the jeep?" he asked.
You were still plastered against the window. A muffled response was heard, “...No.”
Slowly, you peeled yourself off the glass. Something slid down your shirt. Then dropped into your lap. You looked down and there you saw a broken lens… and another falling down… and the frames came down too. Everything was in pieces. Your glasses had split perfectly down the middle. Your glasses broke.
The silence was broken by a snort, followed by a shaking shoulder as he tried not to crack at the scene. Looking away didn’t help, in fact, it made it worse. He slapped a hand over his mouth as his face turned red.
He was not sorry. The second he looked at your expression, he completely lost it. A loud bark of laughter exploded from him.
“I didn’t—” Another laugh cut him off.
“The window broke your glasses!”
“You drove me into the window!”
“Okay, but in my defense—”
“I thought you'd stick the landing!”
You stared at him in disbelief. It was possibly one of the worst excuses you’ve ever heard anyone say to get out of trouble. Enjin stared back, eyes drifting to the glasses in your lap. Then another laugh escaped him. You reached over the console and smacked his shoulder.
“I know.” He was still laughing, clutching his stomach from the pain of laughter. “I know, baby, I'm sorry.”
“I am!” he insisted between wheezes. “I'm genuinely sorry!”
“You sound like you're fighting for your life.”
“I am!” Unfortunately he started laughing again, smacking his hand on the wheel as he doubled over in pain from his laughter.
You crossed your arms and glared out the window. For a moment, the only sound was the radio and Enjin laughing. He gave up trying not to laugh a long time ago. Shit wasn’t funny. Finally, he reached over and squeezed your knee.
You refused to look at him.
“I'll buy you new glasses.”
You snorted. “Two pairs.”
“You clearly can't be trusted. Actually,” you thought for a moment. “Make it three.”
“Three? Why would you need three?”
“One for daily use. One backup pair. And one pair specifically for riding with you.”
Enjin nodded solemnly, rubbing his face from the soreness of smiling. “Smart. Those ones can be made out of military-grade steel.” You rolled your eyes, yet a grin tugged at your lips anyway. Enjin spotted it immediately. “There's my girl.”
“Can I still drive fast?”
“...What if I only commit a small traffic violation?”
“Follo is so sweet. It must be a pleasure to have him as a supporter, right Gris?” You asked the man as he walked beside you to the lounge room.
The topic of Follo came into conversation for a multitude of reasons. The most recent was that he brought you a small gift for your birthday. A very simple gesture that meant a thousand words. He was flustered when he handed the gift over. Who wouldn’t be? You were beautiful, smart, strong, and most importantly he wanted to have good rapport with you. Afterall, he didn’t want to upset his coworker's wife. Gris was with you when he knocked on the door!
“He’s a great kid. Always dreaming for the best and he shows it too,” Gris thought of the many times Follo tried to prove himself worthy of becoming a Giver. Though, time and time again, it never happened. He always had to get reminded to be patient. Things like that don’t always happen when you want them to. “Sometimes he can get in his head, but we are there to help him out.”
You smiled at his answer, proud to hear Follo’s progress. As the lounge room came into view, you slipped away from his arms, hands grabbing onto the handle and pulling it open. Something wasn’t right. You pulled again and it failed to open.
“Hm.” You tugged the handle again. Nothing. The door rattled in its frame, giving just enough movement to suggest it wasn't locked, yet refusing to actually open. “Is it stuck?” You tilted your head, looking up and down the door for a possible problem.
You planted your feet and gave it a harder pull. The handle groaned. The door remained exactly where it was. Now it was personal. With a determined look, you grabbed the handle with both hands and leaned back. Still nothing.
“Okay, now it's definitely stuck.”
Gris watched the struggle for another few seconds before a grin tugged at his lips. “Move over, love.” He patted your side, allowing you to step back, “I got this, don't worry.”
Gris rolled one shoulder before grabbing the handle. One pull. Nothing. His eyebrow twitched. A second pull. The wood creaked. Still nothing.
You folded your arms. “Need help?”
A third pull. Nothing. Now he looked offended.
“Gris. If you can't open the door, it's okay.” You watched as he tried again and again, his muscles hardening more and more. An amazing view, but let's not get distracted! “We can tell Enjin or Semiu. Or even Bro, maybe he-”
“I got this! You don’t believe me?” Gris paused on the door, a look of faux offense on his face as you talked about calling for back up. “It's just a door.”
Yeah, and the door was absolutely winning. But you didn't tell him that.
Gris braced a foot against the floor and gave another mighty yank. Nothing. You bit down on a laugh.
“Say it,” Gris sighed, looking down at the floor.
“I'm not saying anything.”
Gris narrowed his eyes at the door like it had personally insulted his ancestors. Then he grabbed the handle with both hands. “One more time.”
With a growl, he yanked. The door flew open. Unfortunately, so did you. Having stepped closer to help, you were directly in its path. The edge of the door smacked squarely into your face.
The world spun as you landed hard on your backside. Something clattered across the floor. Your glasses. Or rather, what used to be your glasses. The frames were messed up and the glass itself was scratched beyond saving. There was also a burning sensation across your face, must be from the door.
“Oh no.” Gris dropped to his knees so fast it was almost impressive. “Are you okay? I’m so sorry! Please tell me you’re okay.”
Large hands cupped your face before you could answer. His eyes darted frantically over every inch of visible skin, searching for damage. There was a red mark forming across your nose from where the glasses were pushed in before falling off. Also a red line from your forehead to your lip, from the edge of the door smacking your face. It could have been worse, but it would have been better if it hadn’t happened at all.
Gris focused on your face now that you had no glasses. It was a sight he saw every night before bed, yet he could never get tired of seeing it. Your eyes were completely unobstructed. The soft shape of your face. The way your lashes framed your gaze. Now, the slight pout from the impact. For a second, Gris forgot how to breathe.
You blinked up at him. “Gris?”
His face immediately heated. “Right. Sorry. I mean—” His brain completely derailed. God, you were beautiful. Not that he didn't know that already. You were his wife. He knew that. He appreciated that every day, but somehow seeing you without your glasses caught him entirely off guard.
“Gris?” The concern in your voice snapped him back to reality.
“Sorry!” He cleared his throat. “I mean—sorry for hitting you with a door.”
You stared. “That was your apology?”
“I'm apologizing properly later.” He glanced at the broken remains of your glasses. His expression fell. “Definitely later.” Carefully helping you to your feet, Gris scooped up the shattered frames and slipped an arm around your shoulders. “The lounge can wait.”
“Gris, it's just a bump and a line.”
“You got hit in the face.”
You couldn't even argue with that logic. Before long he was already steering you back toward your shared room, muttering under his breath about stubborn doors, broken glasses, and how he was never going to hear the end of this from the others.
Sparring with Zanka was never light work. That's why you never did it with him. Though unfortunately, your boyfriend just had to ask you to train with him. Who were you to say no?
“And that,” Zanka repositioned himself into a perfect standing stance after he completed showing you a new technique. His staff was in its hands within a second after he stopped twirling it like a little acrobat. “Is how you dodge that attack.”
You were stunned. You saw what he did. The footwork, the arm work, the staff work. All of it was amazing. You had to give props to his strength and technique, but looking down at you jinki, you were so sure if this was perfect for you.
“That was amazing, Zanka,” you beat around the bush, putting on the best smile you had. “You're so smart and strong.” It seemed to work because he broke eye contact and the tips of his ears were turning red. But he knew better. Your words were just a ploy to end practice earlier.
Composing himself, he got into a perfect fighting position. “Did you really get all that? We're going to try it out.”
“Great!” You smiled sarcastically and got into position as well, cursing your luck. “This is good. Really good. So amazing actually- hey!”
You narrowly dodged his staff. All of this one-sided conversation was either going to send you to Eishia or the grave. And Zanka was not playing around. You barely managed to duck under the next swing. Then the next. And the next. At some point, panic turned into instinct. You locked in.
Your feet moved before your brain could. Every dodge became cleaner. Every step landed where it needed to. The world narrowed until there was only you, Zanka, and the blur of his staff cutting through the air.
"Oh?" Zanka grinned. "There you go."
You sidestepped. The staff missed your shoulder by an inch. You pivoted. It was another missed strike. For the first time all session, Zanka looked excited instead of concerned.
"That's it!" he called. "Keep that up!"
You were. Maybe a little too much. Your entire focus locked onto his hands, his stance, the movement of his feet. You were reading every attack before it happened. So focused on the pattern that you completely missed when he changed it. His grip shifted. Zanka threw you a feint with a real strike immediately after. By the time your brain processed it, all you saw was polished wood rapidly approaching your face.
Pain exploded across your nose as your glasses shattered instantly. The force launched you backward, your body skidding across the dirt before finally coming to a stop several feet away. For a second, everything was ringing and your vision turned a blinding white.
A hand flew to your eyes and you tried to rub the pain away. You blinked as your eyes began to work again. Well, one eye worked. The other was a little blurry. Other than that the sky looked nice and dirty. Something warm dripped over your lips.
Blood. A lot of blood coming out of both nostrils. There was also a thudding pain on the left side of your face. One eye was already beginning to swell. So much for practicing with Zanka.
"What?!" The shout nearly scared you more than the hit. You turned your head just in time to see Zanka standing frozen in place. His staff slipped from his fingers. It hit the ground with a clatter. The color had completely drained from his face. "No, No, No, No, No!"
Before you could even sit up, he was already sprinting toward you. You had never seen him move that fast. Not even when he was in that little scuffle with that one raider.
"Wait—are you okay?!" He dropped to his knees beside you so hard dirt flew everywhere. "I didn’t mean to hit you that hard! I didn’t mean to hit you at all!"
"You can tell?!" His voice cracked. "Your glasses are broken!"
You lifted a hand again, this time it went to your ear. Sure enough, the remains of your glasses were hanging off one ear. You sighed, letting your arm fall back to the floor. "Oh," you said as a wave of dizziness washed over you.
"Oh?!" His voice cracked. Zanka looked seconds away from passing out. "That's all you have to say?!"
"I think my nose is bleeding."
"I know your nose is bleeding!"
You winced as you sat up.Immediately, Zanka grabbed your shoulders, but he seemed to realize grabbing someone who had just been launched across the training grounds was maybe not the smartest idea. So he let go, then grabbed your shoulders again. Then let go again. His eyes were huge.
"You need a medic. We need to go to Eishia."
"You just got hit in the face!"
Blood immediately poured down your upper lip with more pressure. Maybe sitting up wasn’t the best idea now that blood was pouring out of your nose like a hose. The horrified look on Zanka's face somehow made it worse.
"Oh my god," he whispered.
"You say that like I died."
"I might have killed you!"
You stared at each other, though it felt more like you were fighting sleep. Zanka was the only one with eye contact. A rough cough racked your chest and you let a glob of spit and blood fall on your shirt. Zanka made a strangled noise and carefully cupped your face like you were made of glass.
"I'm never sparring with you again. Never"
"Absolutely not. Why did this happen?” He mumbled to himself as he worked on picking you up. “How could I let this happen?”
"You're overreacting,” you slumped into his arms once you got lifted. The pain was just now starting to set in.
He shook his head and started walking back inside, obviously rushing to get you to Eishia. "You got sent airborne."
Cards were constantly being placed on the bed. It was a small pass time you and Follo agreed on when both of you were given days off. A simple game of cards and some stolen kisses was enough for Follo to fall one hundred times over you for. He was the sweetest person you’ve ever met and no one could compare.
Unfortunately, he was also incredibly stubborn.
The cards scattered across the bed as you leaned back against the wall, stretching your arms over your head, "Okay, I'm starving."
Across from you, Follo looked up from the hand he'd been organizing. "You literally ate before you came here. You can survive another round."
"That was three hours ago."
"Three hours is nothing."
You rolled your eyes and swung your legs over the side of the bed. "I'm getting a snack."
"No. You gotta stay with me and finish," he pleaded, holding your wrists and giving you his best puppy eyes. “Please. After this one we can go eat together.”
"Follo," you sighed as you looked away from his eyes. He always pulled out that move when he wanted to spend more time with you. Sometimes it worked, but only because you also wanted to stay with him. This was not that moment. You were hungry and you wanted food, quick.
He dropped his cards dramatically onto the blanket. "You're abandoning me."
"I'm walking to the kitchen."
You laughed, standing up. "I'll be back in three minutes."
"Abandoning me like that, do you love me?" Follo questioned, a small smile on his face as he thought of a devious way of continuing this teasing. You stuck your tongue out at him and turned toward the door. Before you could take another step, Follo grabbed a handful of the blanket. "Get back here." He gave it a sharp tug.
Before he could protest again, you pushed yourself off the bed. The mattress dipped beneath your weight, and you had barely taken a single step when Follo lunged forward. The problem was that neither of you realized part of the blanket had wrapped itself around your ankle while the two of you had been sitting there for hours.
The moment he pulled, your foot was yanked backward.
The force completely threw off your balance. You pitched forward too fast and there wasn't enough time to catch yourself. The world tilted, then THUD, CRACK. Pain shot through your face as you hit the floor. For a second everything went silent, but Follo's voice exploded through the room.
"Oh my–!" The bed creaked violently as he practically launched himself off it. Hands hovered around you frantically, too scared to touch you. "Are you okay?! Are you hurt? Where does it hurt? Are you bleeding? Did you hit your head?"
You pushed yourself up onto your elbows and immediately your glasses slid off your face. Or rather, what was left of them. One lens had popped out completely. The frame was snapped near the bridge.
"Oh." Follo stared and his face immediately lost all color. "Oh no."
Something was wrong. You blinked then blinked again in hope to correct your vision, but it didn’t work. You could see fine out of one eye, but the other, it was blurry. It made you go cross-eyed. A hand came to your face and in the place where one lens was supposed to be, it was empty. You took them off and set them on the floor, assessing the damage.
"Oh no." His voice cracked as he pulled on his hair in distress. "Oh no, no, no, no. I broke your glasses. I broke your glasses! You can’t see without your glasses!” His eyes looked suspiciously wet as his nose already started to sniffle.
"I thought it'd be funny!"
"It would've been if I didn't eat the floor."
"I made you eat the floor!"
A laugh escaped you despite the aching sting in your nose. That only seemed to make him feel worse. He dropped onto his knees beside you. His hands were shaking as he placed them over his eyes. "You could've gotten really hurt. I’m so sorry."
His shoulders slumped. The guilt on his face was so intense that you almost felt bad for him. "I'm buying you new glasses,” His voice dropped into a miserable mutter. After a moment, Follo carefully leaned his forehead against your shoulder, wrapping his arms around you in a tight embrace. He felt guilty and upset, refusing to look at the shattered glasses on the floor. "...I'm really sorry."
The sincerity in his voice made your heart ache. You sighed and soon enough, your arms were around his neck, head leaning onto his shoulder as you heard his endless apologies. Even though you were temporarily blind, you could never stay mad at Follo for too long.
The mission itself should have been simple. Zodyl gave you a very simple task. Gather information. Leave. Report back. This in itself should have taken at least an hour, but due to unfortunate circumstances to who you went with, it ended up taking beyond the one hour mark.
You had been standing in the same trash site for nearly forty minutes while Jabber dug through piles of junk like an excited animal. The main task was done, but Jabber wanted to waste time and go on a search for important reasons he didn't bother explaining.
"What about this one?" He lifted the object above his shoulder, eyes still locked on the trash in front of him.
"It's a rusty pipe," you mumbled, crossing your arms as you looked at the man who was unfortunately your boyfriend.
Jabber tossed it over his shoulder The pipe immediately disappeared into another mountain of garbage. Immediately, he went back to scavenging. You pinched the bridge of your nose. Your feet hurt. Your back hurt. You were beginning to suspect Jabber had completely forgotten the actual reason the two of you had come here.
Still nothing. The man was currently halfway inside a pile of scrap metal. You sighed, thinking about ending your misery or ditching him as a last effort.
"Boss wanted data," you reminded him. "Not trash. You've been looking at trash for almost an hour."
His head popped out, a tooth grin on his face. "Research."
"You licked a battery five minutes ago."
"No, that's called being stupid."
Jabber grinned and went back to digging, humming a melody that was way too upbeat for your happiness. That was apparently confirmation enough. You finally reached your limit.
"What? I'm not close to being done yet!”
You ignored his complaint and leaned forward to grab his wrist. Jabber looked down at your hand and trailed his way up your arm to your face. He only grinned wider. Immediately, you knew this was going to become a problem.
He stood up to his full height and with a dramatic gasp, he planted his feet. Something wicked was brewing in his mind as he held onto your hand.
You narrowed your eyes at him. Testing the waters, you pulled on his wrist, yet he did not move. Jabber pulled back, but you were strong enough to stay in place.
He wanted to play. You scoffed, "We are not doing this."
The mission instantly devolved into a tug-of-war. You pulled with all your strength. Jabber remained rooted in place. Either way, some time now or later, he had to let go.
That's how it was for a minute. The constant pull between you and him in a true tug-of-war fashion. It did cause him to loosen up, occasionally moving his feet into a different stance, but it wasn't enough to drag him back to the hideout.
Unfortunately, Jabber decided to switch his grip on you. No longer did he have your hand intertwined with his, his hand was around your wrist, actively trying to knock you off your feet.
“Let go, Jabber,” you tugged back on your own wrist.
“I thought we were playin’,” he laughed, clearly enjoying this more than you. He tugged again, causing your stance to fumble.
“No, I said let go! We need to go back!”
He sighed, “If that’s what you want.”
The victory lasted less than a second. He did let go, only after pulling you toward him with all his might. The moment you crashed into his chest, he lost his footing, slipping on a sleek piece of metal. Then gravity won and the two of you crashed backwards. Jabber disappeared into a pile of trash as you disappeared with him.
Your face planted directly into his chest. The impact knocked the breath from your lungs. For a moment, you were just trying to breathe. It wasn’t everyday someone fell into a pile of trash and someone's chest.
Then you heard something crack. Slowly, very slowly, you lifted your head. One side of your glasses hung crooked. The other side wasn't attached anymore.
Within a second, Jabber's shoulders began shaking. He was full on laughing about the situation. Laughter erupted from him so hard he nearly rolled back down the trash pile.
"You absolutely did!" Jabber wiped at his eyes, releasing a big sigh as his hands found your hips, keeping you close for the hilarious moment.
The thought of what happened only made him laugh harder. The sound echoed through the entire trash site. Somewhere deep down, you considered smothering him with a nearby tire.
Jabber eventually sat up, still grinning like an idiot. "Here." He reached over and picked the broken glasses from your face. The frame bent even more. "Oh, they're really dead."
"Thank you for that astute observation."
You glared at him while Jabber grinned. Then, without warning, he flicked your forehead. "You look weird without them. Shame," he threw them up at the thrash pile, landing with a clatter and now forever forgotten. “Always loved smashing while you had them–”
Accompanying Zodyl during testing was usually a quiet affair. Better yet, accompanying him for anything was always quiet. Mostly because he rarely spoke. And because whenever he did speak, it was usually about the experiment or cursing the Sphere below his breath. Even with this, you still stayed with him. It was a mutual and non-spoken agreement.
Today's experiment involved a failed component from the Watchman Series. You weren't entirely sure what the component was supposed to do. You weren't convinced Zodyl knew either. That was the point of testing.
The piece sat in his hand for a moment, he inspected it before he casually tossed it into a nearby pile of trash. Nothing happened. For several seconds, everything remained still, but Zodyl already began to turn away.
You grabbed onto his arm before he could take another step. It seemed like he knew nothing was going to happen, but it wouldn’t hurt to wait a little longer. “Something’s going to happen. Only if you give it time.”
He spared you a glance until he looked back at the trash, and sure enough, a black smoke-like substance began to rise from the trash and the failed component was levitating. It was a good sign, though his face didn’t say much. The failed Watchman series then exploded into a bright, pulsing beam of white light. The burst of wind would have sent you flying if you were not already holding your ground.
The light only lasted for a couple of seconds before it was encased into an egg-like shape. The piles of junk around the site rattled softly and it soon brought the trash to rise into the air. The wind was picking up again like a tornado. Around you, scraps of metal began scraping against one another with sharp screeching sounds.
"Is that what you expected?" You asked, looking up to him. There was no answer. Zodyl's gaze remained fixed on the now airborne trash pile. The wind was constantly increasing. This time, it was enough to make you squint. Your hair whipped across your face.
"Hm." The response was automatic, almost distracted.
"Should we be standing this close?"
He didn't answer. At least not verbally. The fact that he didn't move was apparently his answer. The wind continued building. Soon enough it became difficult to stand comfortably. You stepped closer to him. Not because you were nervous. Obviously. You’ve been through worse. You just happened to prefer standing near the giant human wall instead of being blown into the horizon. Zodyl didn't acknowledge the movement. His attention remained entirely on the experiment as if he were running his many possible theories in his mind.
A particularly strong gust swept through the area. It was getting hard to see and hear. But within a small distance, something large scraped against the ground. You looked around uneasily.
"Maybe we should move back a little."
He still said nothing. You opened your mouth to repeat yourself. It was in a split moment when you saw it. A sheet of metal. Far too large and far too fast, coming your way. You didn’t have enough time to react until the metal hit you like a charging animal.
One second you were standing. The next your feet vanished and the world flipped.
The air exploded from your lungs as you felt your back collide with the firmness of the compacted dirt. Everything hurt. For a moment, you simply lay there. Face-up. Questioning your life choices. The metal sheet remained draped over you like an incredibly aggressive blanket.
The wind slowly continued howling overhead, but it sounded more like a constant ring in your ears. Somewhere nearby, you could make out the sound of footsteps. Slow and unhurried footsteps. The footsteps of a man who clearly wasn't concerned about finding a corpse.
The soles of his shoes could be seen on your left from the small gap between you and the metal. The pressure soon came off your chest as Zodyl nudged the sheet with his foot. The scrap rolled aside. Light flooded your vision. Quickly, you blinked up at him.
He stared you down with an unchanged expression. A thick silence stretched between you. The only thing being heard was the whooshing of trash and the wind. His eyes flicked toward your face, analysing the damages done by the sheet of metal. One lens from your glasses was missing. The frame itself looked beyond repair.
You stared, astonished that he chose to ask that question. "I just got hit by a flying wall."
"That doesn't answer the question."
You opened your mouth to give another retort, but decided against it. You were in pain and the last thing you wanted was to deal with a sassy boss. "Yes," you settled for your answer.
"Hm. Stay alive. I need you.” Apparently satisfied, Zodyl looked away.
His attention immediately returned to the experiment. The wind had already begun weakening. The failed Watchman component encased in its egg rattled somewhere within the trash pile. You remained on the ground. Your glasses remained broken and your dignity remained missing. The experiment was clearly winning the competition for his attention.
A few moments later, Zodyl finally spoke. "The reaction is ending. The results are useful."
You closed your eyes, resting your head against the dirt. Somehow, against all logic, he interpreted your silence as agreement.
By the time the winds died completely, Zodyl had already resumed taking notes. Meanwhile, you were still lying in the trash wondering if being alive had been a mistake.
Note: Had so much fun writing this, but if any of this happened irl, I'm done. I'd have to leave the earth. I'd be so embarrassed. I'm practically useless without my glasses. But hey, 2 new characters unlocked (follo and Zodyl) 😝
