Chapter Text
───── ⋆⋅DAN POV⋅⋆ ─────
The first thing that Dan registered when he was released from the thermos was the sudden absence of pressure. He’d been trapped in that damn thing for so long he’d forgotten what it was like to be able to stand tall, his core and body no longer compressed. He took the opportunity to stretch, raising his arms high overhead and letting his jaw drop open in a massive yawn that flashed his long, sharp fangs. Next he shook out his legs one by one, rolling his ankles to loosen them. He rolled his neck, first to one side, then the other, taking his time to work out all the kinks.
He might have been stalling a little bit, but given his audience, he knew he had nothing but time.
Once he’d gone through and cracked every single spectral bone in his body, stretched his shoulders and neck out, and scratched his ass, he finally turned to face the other ghosts in the room. A half-dozen Observants were staring at him with various looks of disgust and frustration in those massive mono-eyes, but Dan barely registered their presence. No, his focus was on the only ghost in the room who truly deserved his attention.
His eyes met Clockwork’s. The Master of Time’s expression showed nothing but a placid smile, as if he was prepared to give Dan all the time in the world to get used to being free of the thermos. It made Dan’s blood boil to see how calm and at ease Clockwork was compared to the Observants’ reactions. He should be afraid! He should be quaking in fear! Dan was free! He could tear Clockwork apart if he wanted to, start his rampage all over again, and this time leave nothing behind in his wake!
But just as the thought crossed Dan’s mind, he felt the air around him shift. One moment he’d been standing there in his old black and white suit, Phantom symbol emblazoned proudly across his chest, the next his clothes had been replaced by a plain black tunic and pants, a purple cloak draped over his shoulders and clasped by a simple pin shaped like a cog. He stared down at his new attire for a second, and then jerked his head up to give Clockwork a poisonous glare.
“This is your new uniform,” Clockwork explained calmly, gesturing towards Dan’s chest with the hand not holding his staff. “You will be expected to wear this, as my new apprentice.”
“I agreed to job shadow you, old man, in exchange for my freedom” Dan growled. “No one mentioned anything about a wardrobe change.”
Clockwork just gave him a careless shrug. “It is your apprentice garb, and if you wish to be my apprentice, you will wear it. If you find it that objectionable, however, you are always welcome to return to the thermos instead.”
Dan glanced back over his shoulder to where the Fenton Thermos was sitting innocently on top of the platform taking up the center of the little room. The metal was cold and dark, the lights along the side dim, but the sight of it still made Dan want to shudder in revulsion. No, he absolutely did not want to go back into that accursed thing.
Still, he turned to give Clockwork a dark look. “You know, now that I'm free, I could just slaughter you all, instead.”
The Observants collectively jerked back in alarm, but Clockwork didn't react at all, that same mysterious smile still dancing on his lips. “Come now, Danny, I think we both know you're smart enough to know that won't work.”
The sound of that old name immediately made Dan's rage boil over.
“Don't call me that!” he snapped, his fangs bared.
Clockwork acknowledged Dan with a tilt of his head. “As you wish. What would you prefer to be called?”
Dan paused, caught off guard. He hadn't really thought too hard about it, but he'd instinctively recoiled when he heard that name. Still, the idea of going by Vlad was even worse, and Phantom was the name of a hero, not a monster like him. He didn't want to make up something completely new either…
“Dan,” he eventually settled on, his shoulders rolling back as he regained his composure. “Dan is…fine.”
“A fine name indeed,” Clockwork agreed smoothly, as if he expected no less. Still looking at Dan, he aimed his next words at the Observants. “As I was saying. I'm sure Dan realizes that there are mechanisms in place to ensure that he serves out his sentence as my apprentice as we have agreed.”
Dan bit back a snarl, jerking his head to the side so that he didn't have to look at that smug little smirk. Of course he knew it wouldn't be so easy. There was no way the Observants would have allowed him to be released from the thermos without some method of keeping him in line. Just because he couldn't see any obvious chains or ropes didn't mean something wasn't there.
Still, given how skittish the Observants were acting, Dan would bet that they weren't entirely sure that whatever they'd come up with would actually work. If he bided his time, there was a chance he'd be able to find a flaw in their system and break free. He just needed to be patient. Not one of his strongest virtues, of course, but if he could wait ten years to get his revenge on the city of Amity Park, he could wait a little bit longer to finally claim his freedom.
"...fine," he eventually grunted. "I suppose I'll wear this stupid get up, then. As hideous as it is."
"If you object to the purple," Clockwork said mildly, stroking his long beard as he shifted to his elderly form, "it comes in other colours."
Dan couldn't help but twitch, his eyes widening the tiniest bit. How had the old coot known that it was the colour that bothered him the most?!
"Perhaps green would be preferred?" Clockwork offered.
He snapped his fingers together, and like raindrops running down a windowpane, the colour of Dan's new cloak shifted from rich purple to a dark forest green. As the colour bled from one shade to the next, Dan couldn't resist grasping the edge of the cloak and bringing it up to his face so he could watch the threads re-weave themselves right before his eyes. He absently rubbed the material between his fingers, the part of him that had once been Vlad noting that the fabric felt very expensive based on touch alone. Dan doubted it was human-made, however. There was something about the soft, ethereal quality of the cloak that made it clear to him that it was ghost-made, though Dan couldn't help but be mildly curious about how it was manufactured.
Satisfied with his inspection of the cloak for now, Dan let the edge slip through his fingers so that it dropped down, encircling his body and hiding it from view. He looked up at Clockwork and sneered.
"It'll do," he said coldly.
"I'm happy to hear it," Clockwork told him with a nod. The old coot then turned to face the cowering Observants, his form shifting to that of a small child as he moved. "As you can see, Dan is willing to hold up his end of the bargain. I am more than capable of taking it from here."
When the Observants hesitated, still lingering around the edges of the room, Clockwork finally dropped his jovial manner, his red eyes flashing in disapproval.
"That means leave," he intoned.
The Observants jumped, and immediately rushed out of the room, two of them colliding when they reached the doorway at the same time. They fell back, shook themselves off, and then fled, one of them glancing back in fear just before he vanished around the doorway, the door slamming shut behind him.
"Meddlesome fools," Clockwork grumbled under his breath as he rapidly aged to become crooked and elderly.
The annoyance in Clockwork's voice startled Dan into letting out a soft snort. The sentiment was one he could agree with; the Observants had never been anything but a huge pain in his ass, and he took a little vindictive glee in hearing that Clockwork found them just as aggravating.
But in the wake of their exodus, the Observants had left Clockwork and Dan standing in awkward silence. Dan looked away from the closed door to find Clockwork already looking back at him, his expression almost expectant. Dan's lip immediately curled up in disgust, recognizing the power play for what it was; Clockwork was going to make Dan ask about what was to happen next, make Dan defer to him.
Of course, Dan should have seen this coming. This was the deal, after all. Dan would be allowed freedom from the thermos, but only if he agreed to serve Clockwork as his new apprentice instead to make up for his numerous crimes. Clockwork was now his master, and Dan would be expected to serve him, obeying his every order and catering to his every whim. He'd been told exactly what his new role would entail, but he still couldn't help the way it rankled him.
The silence stretched on longer and longer, Clockwork seemingly content to just watch him stew. Dan knew he'd have to say something eventually — there was no way he'd be able to wait out the Master of Time after all — but he sure as hell wasn't going to accept his new situation gracefully. He was determined to be the biggest headache Clockwork had ever been forced to deal with, even moreso than the Observants. He crossed his arms beneath his new cloak and leaned back against the table in the middle of the room, prepared to stare Clockwork down for as long as possible.
To his surprise, however, Clockwork was the first to break. He shifted back, giving Dan a clear pathway to the room's exit.
"Now that your attire is settled and those overbearing eyeballs have left, perhaps I can start with a tour of your new home," Clockwork offered, gesturing towards the door.
Dan blinked at him, feeling wrong-footed. It sounded like Clockwork was asking him for permission, rather than masking an order as a suggestion.
"Or, if you'd prefer," Clockwork continued when Dan seemed at a loss for words. "I can show you to your room instead, if you would rather get some rest."
"I'm not tired," Dan growled, feeling offended by the very idea that he needed something as pathetic as a nap.
"Very well," Clockwork said, once again tilting his head in acknowledgement. "Then perhaps you would like the tour?"
"...I suppose," Dan agreed reluctantly. It probably wasn't a bad idea anyways. Knowing the lay of the land would almost certainly be useful when it came time to make his escape. So with a wave of his hand, he motioned Clockwork forward. "Let's get this over with."
"Of course," Clockwork said graciously. He began to drift forward, the room's door automatically swinging open at his approach, and Dan begrudgingly followed in his wake, finally leaving the accursed thermos that had kept him prisoner for so long behind.
Dan had expected Clockwork to drag out the tour, force Dan to walk through countless hallways and rooms until he was completely turned around and lost, just to emphasize how trapped Dan was in this place. But to his relief, Clockwork did nothing of the sort. While the Master of Time’s lair was definitely a labyrinth of floors and halls and windows that seemed to go on infinitely in some cases, there was some logic to the main pathways, and Clockwork pointed out a few helpful tips for Dan to use to get around on his own whenever he was left to his own devices.
One of the first rooms Clockwork led Dan to was the space he would be able to call his own while he was staying with Clockwork. When Clockwork opened the door and let Dan precede him inside, Dan couldn’t help but hesitate for a fraction of a second. What if this was just another trap? What if this room was just another thermos, a space to keep him contained for the rest of eternity?
He’d taken a subconscious half-step back, but when he caught sight of the knowing look in Clockwork’s eyes, he snarled and stormed into the room, flustered and enraged that the other ghost had seen his brief moment of weakness.
Once inside, Dan paused, taking in the space. It was by no means opulent, the room consisting of little more than a bed and dresser against the far wall with a writing desk taking up residence underneath the room’s small window. But it was bigger than Dan had expected, and the bed at least looked comfortable.
“You’ll find a spare uniform in the wardrobe if you need it,” Clockwork informed him, pointing towards the wardrobe in the corner that Dan had missed on his first inspection. “You’re also welcome to help yourself to any of the books in the library across the hall.”
Dan glanced towards the doorway, spotting the door on the wall opposite his room. His nose wrinkled in distaste at the suggestion, but he didn’t immediately object. At least reading books would give him something to do. He suspected Clockwork would mostly have him doing grunt work, and he would probably appreciate the mental stimulation.
“If you’d like, you may rest here for a while,” Clockwork said after giving Dan a moment to take in his new space. “Get settled, perhaps.”
Dan jerked his eyes away from studying the knitted quilt draped across the bed to shoot Clockwork an affronted look. “I told you, old man! I’m not a toddler you need to put down for a nap!”
“Very well,” Clockwork said, ignoring the glare Dan was giving him. “Then in that case, I believe it is time to continue our tour.”
Dan trailed after Clockwork through the rest of his lair, mentally trying to map it out even as Clockwork led him deeper and deeper into its core. Clockwork showed him the entryway, the main hall, at least three different libraries, and what passed for the ghost’s kitchen. There was a garden in the middle of a courtyard, and a greenhouse full of unusual plants that seemed to turn and follow Dan as he passed by. There were rooms full of strange objects and rooms that seemed to stretch on forever and rooms that stood empty but made Dan shiver when they traveled through them.
As expected, Clockwork eventually led Dan to his observation room, and Dan idly studied the mirrors and lenses that stuck out from every direction, each showing a different time and place. He traced his nail along the edge of one of them as he followed Clockwork towards the main observation screen, watching a small child in a loincloth toddling towards a kneeling man waiting for him with open arms.
“So this is where the magic happens, is it?” Dan drawled, coming to stand next to Clockwork before the main observation screen. “Now what, we just stand here and watch time go by? Is that all there is to it, oh great Master of Time?”
To his annoyance, Clockwork merely chuckled. “Oh, not at all. This is where I come to observe the timelines, to monitor them and ensure that all is running smoothly. This is not where I do my work, however.”
Despite himself, Dan couldn’t help but be a little intrigued. “Oh? Do tell, then.”
“Come. I’ve saved the best for last,” Clockwork told him. He began heading towards the far corner of the observation room, ducking under and around several lesser lenses, leaving Dan scrambling to catch up. He looked over and gave Dan an indulgent smile once Dan had reached his side, but he didn’t pause even for a moment, still heading towards the dark shadows on the edge of the room.
Dan had assumed that there would be nothing back here but more walls, but as the last of the observation screens fell away behind them, Dan caught sight of their destination, and his jaw dropped open in shock. The back wall of the observation room was almost completely taken up by a massive set of doors, set into an arched doorway that was carved to look like a giant gear. The stonework was decorated with various statues and symbols representing time, all done in exquisite detail. He could pick out the sun and moon, an hourglass and a candle, among other things that he couldn’t quite identify. The doors themselves appeared to be made of wood, but not any kind that he’d ever seen before. They were as black as night, with silver studs spread across the pair of them that Dan recognized as various constellations. The doors stood at least three stories high, and Dan boggled at the idea of trying to open them.
But Clockwork didn’t hesitate. He simply floated up to the doors and gave them a gentle push, and the massive panels swung open swiftly and silently like their hinges were freshly oiled.
“What you are about to see is quite special,” Clockwork commented absently as he stood waiting for Dan in the doorway. “Not even the Observants are permitted to enter this room unless there is an emergency, but as you are my apprentice now, it is important that you understand what is involved in the upkeep of the timestreams.”
Feeling dazed, Dan slowly walked through the doors and into the room. His eyes had been locked on the doors as he entered, tracing over the carvings and the embellishments on the strange wood, so he was more than a few steps into the room itself when he finally turned to take in the space.
Immediately he froze, his body locked in place and his eyes trapped wide open as the contents of the room assaulted his senses.
Strings. Thousands, millions, trillions of strings. They were everywhere, they were everything. His entire being was surrounded by the strings, wrapping around him, over him, through him. He was surrounded by the strings and he was the strings and the strings were him and —
Abruptly he was knocked from his encroaching insanity by the sensation of something brushing across his face. It took him a moment to realize that it was a piece of fabric being tied around his eyes, and Dan took advantage of the distraction to quickly squeeze his eyes shut, trying to block out the memory of the infinite tangle of strings he’d just seen. His core shuddered in his chest, and his hands were clenched so tightly that his claws must have been cutting into his palms and drawing ectoplasm, but the pain barely registered past the throbbing agony in his skull as his mind tried to process what he'd just witnessed.
“Forgive me,” Clockwork said, sounding genuinely apologetic. “It has been so long since I brought someone in here, I had forgotten how overwhelming it can be for others.”
“W — ” Dan started to speak, but was interrupted by a cough, his throat and mouth too dry to form words. He licked his lips, giving himself a moment to gather his composure, and tried again. “What the hell was that?”
“You just saw the very fabric of time itself,” Clockwork explained. Dan could feel Clockwork’s hands working at the back of his head, and it dawned on him that Clockwork was blindfolding him. He tensed, not liking the idea of being hindered, and started reaching for the blindfold to tear it off, but Clockwork slapped his hands away before he could.
“I would advise you to keep this on, while you’re in here,” Clockwork told him as he finished tying the knot. His hands fell away, but Dan could still sense him floating nearby. “It will help filter out the complexities of the timelines and make it easier for your mind to process what you are seeing. Once you’ve gotten more used to working with the threads of time, you may learn to view them without the blindfold, but it’s best if you keep it on for now.”
“You’re expecting me to work blind?” Dan snapped, his fingers coming up to test the feel of the blindfold over his eyes. The fabric reminded Dan enough of his cloak that he suspected they were the same material, but the blindfold itself felt thinner and rough around the seams. He ran his finger along the edge of it, and could feel frayed bits of thread sticking out. “Ugh, and why is it so ratty?”
“Try opening your eyes,” Clockwork suggested, and Dan didn’t need to see him to know that he had that stupid smug smile on his face again.
Without even thinking about it, Dan whirled to give Clockwork another glare. Almost immediately, however, he drew up short when he realized that despite the blindfold over his eyes, he could still somehow see Clockwork floating there a few feet away, framed by the open doorway.
“What the…?” Dan muttered in disbelief, bringing his hands up so that he could stare at them. He could make out every single detail on his grey blue skin, every wrinkle and freckle tracing up his bare arms. He grabbed the edge of his cloak to study it again, marveling at the way he could still see the individual threads weaving it together. It was like there was no blindfold on his face at all, except he could still feel it pressed tight to his skin.
“Why don’t you try turning around now?” Clockwork said, pointing with his staff back towards the middle of the room. “I’m sure this time will be much less of a headache for you.”
On autopilot, Dan let his hands drop to his sides as he spun around. His eyes went wide as he finally took in the space, his mind now able to comprehend what he was seeing. He began walking forward in a daze, his eyes locked on the massive structure that took up the entire area before them.
The room was a perfect circle no wider across than a tennis court, but it stretched up infinitely high overhead and below, the ceiling and floor disappearing into shadows no matter how hard he strained his eyes to find an end. He and Clockwork were currently standing on what appeared to be a balcony about ten feet wide, running around the whole circumference of the room. The balcony’s railing ran along the length of it, except for the spot directly across from the entrance. That space was taken up by a massive panel covered in knobs and pegs that was connected to what Dan could only describe as an apparatus; it was a confusing mix of a harp, a loom, and an old time phone switchboard, all held together in a gilded hourglass-shaped frame that stretched out to fill almost the entire center of the room, parallel with the level of the balcony. Stretched across the frame were countless tiny threads, all criss-crossing each other, looping around long rods that seemed to be attached to the pegs and knobs on the balcony panel, before connecting back into the frame. Falling from the ceiling high above to rain down on the threads right through the middle of the hourglass shape was a curtain of falling sand, and tiny pebbles and stones mixed in with the sand were striking the threads as they dropped, making them hum like harp strings. Their song wasn’t one that Dan recognized, but he could feel the way his core resonated with the harmonies.
It took Dan a moment to realize that the threads were moving as well. He leaned over the edge of the balcony to see that they seemed to be coming from the darkness below, where they started as lumpy tangled wisps of what looked like golden fleece. The fleece then entered the apparatus, which twisted and smoothed them until they were straight and clean cords weaving through the pegs and knobs. After passing through the curtain of sand, the other side of the apparatus began knitting the threads together to form a thick woven tapestry that glittered in a riot of colours and patterns that Dan had trouble looking at directly. The tapestry then moved upward into the sky towards where the sand was falling, where it disappeared from view. The whole thing ran swiftly and efficiently like a machine in a factory, chugging along smoothly with no sign of stopping.
The entire apparatus was overwhelming to perceive, even with the blindfold.
“What…is all this?” Dan breathed.
“This,” Clockwork said as he came to hover at Dan’s shoulder, his hand absently stroking his long beard, “is time itself. I call it the Time Cradle.”
“I don’t understand,” Dan confessed, too overwhelmed to maintain his air of proud indifference. He watched with wide eyed amazement, tracking the progress of the threads from where they started emerging from the darkness far below, all the way up until they became the tapestry that vanished into the shadows overhead.
“The threads you see below are raw potential,” Clockwork explained patiently. He leaned over the edge of the balcony and caught one of the lumpy threads just ahead of where it would enter the main body of the Time Cradle, allowing it to flow along the top of his glove. It had seemed like the threads were moving so quickly that Dan half-expected it to slice right through the palm of Clockwork’s glove, but as Clockwork lifted it, Dan could see that it was actually only moving forward in short spurts. Dan drifted closer, fascinated by the complexity of it all.
“This is all that can happen. Each of these threads contains every infinite possibility of the future. It makes them very coarse and tangled, however, you see?”
“...yes.”
Clockwork allowed the thread to fall from his hand, and he moved towards the main part of the machine next, running his fingers across several of the knobs and pegs. “As the threads pass through the Sand of Time and the future becomes the now, the potential in each thread is spun and woven down to a single possibility, a single happenstance. This is the present, where everything is locked into place. Afterwards, it becomes the past,” He gestured towards the tapestry that disappeared above their heads, the finished product of the machine, “which is permanent and unchanging. Well, with a few minor exceptions, of course.”
Dan shot him a dirty look, knowing exactly what Clockwork was referring to. He looked back up at the moving threads, trying to picture how Clockwork would have managed to tweak them to allow Dan’s past self to change his fate, but thinking about it gave him a headache so he quickly abandoned that train of thought.
“What about that, though?” Dan gestured to the staff that Clockwork always carried. “Isn't that how you control time?”
“This?” Clockwork held up his staff, inspecting it. “This is connected to the timestream, you’re right.”
In demonstration, Clockwork pressed the button on the top of his staff. At once, the Time Cradle seemed to freeze, the process stopped in its tracks. Even the Sand of Time started to slow, though it didn’t quite stop completely. Clockwork hit the button again, and the Time Cradle burst back into motion.
“For finer control of the timelines, this is where I work,” Clockwork explained with a smile, gesturing to the room around them. “But for quick pauses, my staff is useful enough.”
Humming under his breath, Dan turned his attention to the Time Cradle’s pegs next. He reached out and touched one of them, pausing for a moment to see what Clockwork’s reaction might be.
“Ah, yes. Those are for manipulating the threads,” Clockwork said calmly, completely at ease with Dan’s fingers on the device that controlled time itself. “As you can hear, when the Sand of Time strikes the threads, they create a melody. Normally everything is in harmony, and time runs smoothly with minimal intervention. However, the threads of the future can get a bit…sticky, at times.”
Almost as if on cue, the music that had been emanating from the Time Cradle suddenly let out a sour note that even Dan could hear, the sound jarring against the rest of the song. Without even looking at the threads, Clockwork reached out and twisted one of the pegs on the machine just a touch to the left, and the music abruptly harmonized once more.
“It’s more of an art than a science,” Clockwork admitted with a chuckle, turning a few more pegs before he seemed satisfied with his work. “With enough practice, you’ll be able to predict when the threads will get tangled before it even happens, and be able to prevent it from happening in the first place.”
Dan looked up at him in surprise. “You can’t seriously be telling me you’re going to let me touch this.”
“Why not?” Clockwork asked him, nonplussed. “You are my apprentice. The whole point is to teach you how to help manage the timelines.”
Dan’s hand twitched against the knob under his palm, his body tense with anticipation. “I could destroy everything with this,” he breathed.
But Clockwork merely chuckled. “Time is more resilient than you’d think. There are…very few ways to completely destroy it.”
Dan stared Clockwork down, waiting for the older ghost to flinch. Surely he would crack any second now, revealing his bluff. Surely he would rush forward in a moment to knock Dan away from the controls of the machine before Dan did something drastic.
Or perhaps Clockwork thought he was the one who was bluffing. Well, Dan would show him, then.
“Well then,” Dan said snidely, giving Clockwork a poisonous smile. “You seem very sure of that, why don’t we put that to the test?”
And then he grabbed the biggest knob he could see and turned it as hard as he could.
The reaction was immediate. The Time Cradle jumped, the flow of the threads speeding up, and the music created by the falling sand suddenly shrieked like a violin being strung too tightly. Dan began to crow in triumph, but almost as quickly as the timeline seemed to unravel, it corrected itself. Dan watched the completed tapestry that emerged from the machine, and despite the patch of dark thread in the center, it seemed to be perfectly intact, no hole or blemish to be seen.
“What?” Dan cried in disbelief.
“Hmm, that will be an unfortunate turn of events,” Clockwork murmured, sounding only mildly put-out.
“...what did that even do?” Dan was forced to ask as the bit of tapestry he’d affected was dragged away overhead.
He jumped when he felt a hand land on his shoulder. “Come,” Clockwork said, “Let us observe what changes you’ve made to the timeline.”
He led Dan back to the observation room, bringing him to stand before the main screen. The glass was filled with green mist, but as they approached, it began to clear. A series of images flashed by too quickly for Dan to follow, but he thought he caught sight of his younger self, as well as what appeared to be some sort of elaborate coffin. It looked vaguely familiar, but Dan couldn’t place where he’d seen it before.
The images finished off, and Clockwork let out a heavy sigh. “I had been hoping to avoid that particular timeline, but I suppose we’ll work with what we have.”
Dan had been feeling a bit put-out that his dramatic act of rebellion hadn’t seemed to do much, but he perked up a little at the disappointment in Clockwork’s voice. It brought him a tiny spike of vindictive glee to hear that he’d ruined Clockwork’s day just a little bit, even though the Master of Time seemed more resigned to whatever changes Dan had made rather than upset.
Dan would also never admit it, but it also was a bit of a relief to hear that whatever he’d done hadn’t permanently destroyed the timeline. As angry as he was at the world for what he had lost and what had happened to him, he wasn’t angry enough to want to destroy all of existence.
Still, when Clockwork finally turned away from the observation screen, the images fading back into that green mist with a wave of his hand, Dan couldn’t help but shoot him a smug little smile.
“Oh, I hope I didn’t give you more work to do,” Dan drawled, crossing his arms haughtily. “That would be such a shame.”
To his dismay, however, Clockwork merely chuckled. “Oh, I’m afraid I’m not the one who’s going to have more work to do now. But that’s a problem for another time. For now, things seem to be moving smoothly, and we can take a break. Care for some tea?”
Dan’s nose wrinkled. “Tea?” he scoffed. “Surely you’re joking.”
“I can make coffee instead if you prefer.”
“We’re ghosts. We don’t eat,” Dan pointed out in exasperation.
“The food of the living, yes,” Clockwork agreed easily as he turned and headed towards the observation room’s exit. “But I have an excellent tea blend from the Far Frozen that your younger self in particular seems to like. I’ll make you a cup.”
Dan bristled. “I don’t want anything that little upstart likes.”
“Fine then,” Clockwork said without breaking his stride. Dan was forced to scurry after him, much to his annoyance, to avoid getting left behind and lost in the depths of Clockwork’s lair. “I’ll just make a cup for myself then, and you can help yourself to whatever you’d like.”
“Crazy old coot,” Dan muttered under his breath, following along in Clockwork’s wake.