#whee~!

A couple months ago I was doing Research for my illness and read something that went “lol don’t take too much iodine or you will FRY YOUR THYROID!!! with HYPERTHYROIDISM!!!”

and without missing a beat I thought, “Hmm, I think I might be able to get around that, I read a study that found that molybdenum supplementation reduced thyroid uptake of iodine in rabbits, leaving more iodine in the blood. Anecdotally I found out by accident that taking molybdenum on a day I felt anxious because of iodine supplementation reduced my anxiety, so unless there’s confounding factors I didn’t write down or wasn’t aware of, it may have the same protective effect in humans, so let’s try that because I am my own human guinea pig.”

Then it was like

dead silent

in my head

sort of like what would have happened if I actually said that shit out loud in a crowded room

and then I was like “You know you’re a goddamn spoonie when you start mixing and matching shit to compensate for side effects from each other, what the fuck.”

It wasn't a strong scent, not in comparison to the rich aroma of coffee that loomed over every nook and cranny of Julius' workspace, but it was distinct nonetheless – subtle notes of black tea and roses – intruding upon the calm of the Clock Tower and disturbing the Clockmaker's concentration despite his best attempts to ignore it.

“You're still here?”

The mafioso had come to drop off the her usual shipment of broken clocks. There was no reason for the transaction to take long at all. She should have left immediately. And yet.

“How rude,” settling herself down in the chair across from his at the worktable, Blood crossed her legs flippantly. “First, you deny me the most basic elements of hospitality. Then, you act surprised when I help myself. Not very gentlemanly of you, Clockmaker.”

“I'm not trying to be hospitable or gentlemanly,” he told her flatly, staring hard at the cup of tea she held. She was using his dishware. His irritation increased. “If you want hospitality go home.”

Julius liked tea well enough. But, he deliberately didn't keep any in his tower.

For just this reason.

“And miss our pleasant chats?” Her lips curved further under his scrutiny and she inhaled softly, savoring the scent of her tea before taking a sip. “I wouldn't dream of it.”

Pleasant? Julius opened his mouth to retort before immediately thinking better of it and, refusing to give Blood the satisfaction of a response, he buried himself back in the clock he was working on with a scowl.

Unfortunately, she had no problem in continuing to carry on the conversation on her own.

“Of course your kitchen remains woefully inadequate. But, luckily, I've learned to come prepared for your inadequacies.” She raised her teacup pointedly to him, before having another drink. “It's a woman's job to make up for the failings of men, after all.”

“What do you say, Clockmaker?” She asked him with a taunting smile. “A woman's touch might actually make this dump of yours livable?”

Eye never moving from the gears in front of him, Julius gave a soft derisive snort. His tower was perfectly livable.

“It might make other things more tolerable as well.”

Blood emphasized her point by brushing her foot against his shin under the table, the toe of her boot running suggestively up his leg and ruining what remained of Julius' composure.

Thinly veiled insults? Gunfire? Those were things Julius was prepared for in dealing with the mafioso. Physical contact? Not so much.

Clock parts slipping through his fingers, the Clockmaker shot up from his seat, chair falling away with a loud clatter to the floor. His cheeks blazed.

“What are you doing!?” He demanded.

Blood didn't twitch. Still seated in precisely the same position she had been for the duration of their conversation, she seemed entirely indifferent to his reaction... save for the wicked smirk that played upon her lips.

“See? You're more lively already.”

This time Julius didn't try to contain his sigh of exasperation. One hand moved to pinch the bridge of his nose as he scowled, “I'd hardly call this tolerable.”

“Agreed,” Blood lifted her tea cup, holding it over the mess of broken clocks on his work bench. And Julius watched, horror-stricken, as she sharply upended it over the gears.

However.

Arm outstretched to stop her, he froze.

It was empty.

She shook the empty cup coyly before setting it on the table with a smile.