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It was supposed to be a simple expedition.
The Armed Archaeologist’s proposal of this specific expedition hadn’t even landed on his desk initially; he was asked to be a substitute last minute by his fellow Intelligentsia Guild scholar who suddenly came down with a fever.
Perhaps that too was an omen, in hindsight.
Due to its last-minute nature, Ratio admitted shamefully that he hadn’t gotten to properly review its contents—and damningly, the safety measures put in place. Moreover, his brilliant mind had the gall to think of taking one of his TAs on this journey; one in which its safety hadn’t been thoroughly assessed by him.
Of course, this simple miss was the one thing that tipped everything over.
Because as they were walking in the hazardous zone, they failed to account for the corrosive nature of this particular planet’s atmosphere. This resulted in their safety gear breaking down. Not to mention the mutated swarm of the Propagation proving to be one of the inhabitants making a home in this desolate world. They rose through the tar-like mud splattered across the multiple surfaces, just waiting for the chance to strike when the expedition forces were caught off-guard.
And so, panic spread like wildfire through the forces as they scrambled—some were poised to run back to the shelter as fast as they could, while others futilely tried to fight off the swarm with their mobility severely hampered by their heavy gear. The leader of the expedition looked on helplessly, no longer having control over his own subordinates. Seeing all of this transpire, Ratio could only click his tongue as he took it upon himself to take the reins. As the scholar finally wrangled the disordered troops into some semblance of an order, they steadily made progress retreating back to their outpost.
This was when it all went wrong.
One misstep by one of the flanking members, his foot dipping into the infamous tar. A vicious swarm erupting out of it, wings flapping so fiercely that they made a shrieking sound as they went straight to the head of the troops, straight to his terrified student by his side, frozen in fear—
Ratio did not even have a moment to hesitate.
He leaped headfirst in front of his student as he pushed her away, shielding her from the giant maws of the swarm as it opened wide directly before them. From its mouth, it unleashed a tar so corrosive it immediately burned through his safety gear straight to the flesh of his left arm.
Running on pure adrenaline, Ratio summoned all the imaginary energy he could get and released it all in one mighty burst in the form of a falling pillar—crushing the swarm immediately, followed by a brief silence from the expedition forces as they stared at the remains of the monster. Before the silence could settle though, Ratio barked at the troops to reorder at once, snapping the stunned archaeologists into action. After that, it was a blur of high tension and running as the expedition grew even more frantic in their need to take immediate shelter.
As they finally arrived at their outpost, Ratio dared to take a breath in relief. He immediately turned to his student, still heaving by his side from running for their lives. “Can you stand up? Let me inspect you,” he said, trying to hide the urgency in his voice. It would not do to alarm his student—he needed to remain calm.
“I—I’m fine, professor,” his student managed to reply, still shaking from the scare and exertion. Then, she gasped, as if remembering something. “More importantly, your arm! I know it took a direct hit from that swarm! We have to get it checked—”
With that mention, Ratio reflexively turned his attention towards his left arm. It seemed his student did too, because he vaguely registered her gasping in horror in front of him.
His left arm had gone black, like it was dipped in ink. There was a faint sizzling sound emanating from it, which was definitely not good news. Worse, the adrenaline that was keeping him numb had begun to wane, making him slowly aware of the mind-numbing pain spreading through his nerves. As black spots started encroaching his vision, Ratio chanced a look upon his student once again.
At least she seemed relatively unharmed. If this was what it took to ensure her safety, then his arm was a small price to pay.
Life never gives without taking; that was at least something he could take comfort in.
Seeing his student’s face growing pale at the sight of his now-useless arm, however, Ratio composed himself as best as he could. “Don’t fret. Remember your lesson. What can you do, here and now?” Ratio began, holding her shoulder firmly. “Go get help. I will be fine.” Ratio allowed himself a chuckle, trying to ease her worry. “Besides, I’m ambidextrous, remember?”
He couldn’t assess whether his attempt worked or not, unfortunately. The sight of her nodding tearfully was the last thing he saw—
—Before everything went black.
When he came to, he was unsurprised to wake up aboard the shuttle of the Armed Archaeologist’s emergency clinic.
Trying to sit up, he lost his balance a little. It was no surprise, for when he looked slightly to his left, all he found was the stump of his amputated left arm. Good, he thought. At least the doctors here weren’t totally incapable. If they waited for Ratio to wake up before deciding to amputate his arm, who was to say that its blackened, corrosive state—not unlike the tar that insect spat up—wouldn’t travel upwards and infect his whole body? It was the logical thing to do.
However, before he could process any emotions or grief over the loss of his limb, he spotted the real surprise standing by his bedside. Were Ratio more delirious, he would’ve thought he dreamed it up.
Because there Screwllum was, in all his majestic glory. Not even a hologram, but the genius himself in the flesh—well, metal.
Shocked as he was, Ratio didn’t think of opening his mouth to say something before Screwllum’s voice reached his confused mind.
“You are finally awake, Mr. Ratio. How are you feeling?” The intellitron said, radiating his usual calm.
“Shocked,” Ratio answered automatically. Perhaps there was still some morphine in him, but he couldn’t find it in himself to think of a more dignified way to reply to the android’s words.
Screwllum nodded solemnly, finally breaking the perfect-picture mannequin he had been impersonating. “That is understandable, Mr. Ratio,” he softly spoke. “The loss of a limb in organics are highly serious injuries. Unlike inorganics like us, you cannot replace it easily. Please, take your time—"
“What are you doing here?” Ratio blurted out. Screwllum definitely misunderstood what exactly he was shocked by, but he had no interest in correcting the genius’ misconception. There were other, more pressing questions.
There was a brief silence before Screwllum replied with a decidedly even voice. “I happen to be nearby when I received the Armed Archaeologist shuttle’s distress signal. Unfortunately, I was not close enough to your location to provide timely aid, but I did arrive just as they were deciding whether to go ahead with your operation or not, as you were understandably unconscious and unable to give your opinion on the matter.”
There was more that Screwllum wanted to say, but he was silent for whatever reason Ratio could not bother to fathom right now. “Well?” Ratio huffed. He could feel himself growing impatient by the second.
After a few more moments of tense silence, Screwllum finally spoke. “You were unable to give your consent, and the doctors were terrified of the prospect of operating on you without your say-so, I believe. Perhaps they were afraid of the ramifications that would come about in amputating the Intelligentsia Guild’s most prized scholar, but their hemming and hawing was saving nobody,” Screwllum managed to explain before falling silent again. And Ratio was unsure if he was hallucinating the curtness of his tone.
He didn’t want to play this game though, but as he was getting ready to snap at him to continue, Screwllum beat him to the punch again.
“They were wasting precious time when your life was on the line,” Screwllum continued, and this time Ratio was sure that he did not imagine the anger simmering in the otherwise smooth cadence of his voice. “Thus, I stepped in and instructed them to go ahead with your operation.”
Then, Screwllum finally looked up, directly to Ratio’s gaze (when did Screwllum look down?). “Unfortunately, in that situation, even I was unable to think of a way to preserve and heal your left arm without risking the corrosion spreading further throughout your body,” Screwllum told him solemnly.
“I was the one who gave the final say in your left arm’s amputation, Mr. Ratio. Though I deemed it necessary for your survival at the time, this is still your burden to bear.
I hope you can forgive me.”
Ratio blinked, dazed mind not helping him comprehend what was currently happening. He wished he had all his faculties right now—evidently, he was not equipped to handle this… emotionally fraught situation at the moment.
There were a lot of things Ratio wanted to say to the android before him. “That wasn’t what I meant to ask. I mean, what are you doing here with me? I thought you were a genius, but perhaps that isn’t so,” for one. Or maybe, “of course amputating was the course of action to be taken, why are you apologizing for it? I initially thought those doctors were competent, but now I'm glad you were there to steer them out of their stupor.”
But Ratio was suddenly very, very tired, so instead of saying all those things, he only muttered plainly. “May I rest for the moment?”
Screwllum nodded quickly. “Of course,” he said, his voice a touch insistent. “In fact, I apologize again for bothering you, Mr. Ratio. I will leave you to your rest.” Screwllum dipped his head slightly in farewell and quickly turned around to exit the room.
But just as Screwllum opened the door, Ratio found himself saying, “Wait.”
The genius stopped instantly, turning his head to look back at Ratio once again. “Yes, Mr. Ratio?”
Ratio coughed lightly. Was the air conditioner here a little warm, perhaps?
“There is… no need for you to leave.” Ratio winced at his own words. He hoped Screwllum would think it was because of the pain. Why did he even say that? But it was like his mouth had a mind of its own as he found himself continuing with, “You can stay. If you want to.”
Screwllum was still standing there by the door, staring at him with those unblinking teal eyes, and Ratio finally had the presence of mind to be mortified by his utterly absurd words. “That is, unless you have other matters to attend to, of course—”
“—No,” Screwllum interrupted, his body now fully facing Ratio. “Please be assured, Mr. Ratio,” Screwllum closed the door behind him with a soft click as he made his way back to his bedside. This time, he took a seat in the rickety old chair by the bed. His eyes never left Ratio’s. “There are no matters in the world more important than this.”
Again, there were so many things Ratio wanted to say to that, but he felt keenly the heavy weight of his fatigued body and the throbbing behind his temples. So, he lay back down on the bed, duly noting to address whatever this was when he was of sound mind again.
The last thing he saw as he was closing his eyes was Screwllum’s bright teal eyes, and the softest whisper of the android’s voice drifting to his ears: “Sleep well, Mr. Ratio.”
Inexplicably, Screwllum was still sitting in the same spot by the time he woke up. Except this time, he wasn’t alone, as he was conversing with a newly arrived nurse. He was listening intently to whatever the nurse was saying—presumably regarding Ratio’s condition.
Ratio’s gut churned at the sight. Because why is he acting like Ratio’s guardian?
Like he was responsible for Ratio?
Perhaps sensing his stare or a change in his breathing pattern (Ratio did not want to know), Screwllum immediately turned back to him. “Mr. Ratio,” he said, “I’m glad to see you finally awake. I hope your sleep has been restful.” And if Ratio thought he heard relief in Screwllum’s voice, that was between him and any snooping Aeon who may be listening.
Choosing not to say anything lest he humiliates himself again, Ratio moved to sit up in his bed—only to get a déjà vu as he stumbled back down, as he instinctively tried to anchor himself on his now non-existent left arm.
Or at least, that was what would have happened if Screwllum hadn’t caught him by the waist, preventing him from falling back on his bed. Screwllum sat down on the bed beside him and silently helped Ratio sit up, making his mind go blank for a moment.
Screwllum’s gloved hand. On Ratio’s waist.
He didn’t even have time to call him out on it, as the nurse turned his attention back to Ratio now that she noticed he was awake. She started explaining the chronology of what happened ever since Ratio passed out, the reasoning behind his emergency amputation, and the recovery plans for his medical care afterwards. It was clear that she was nervous, as she was talking rapidly without leaving herself much room to breathe. Perhaps the prospect of facing both a genius and the infamous Dr. Ratio was too much for the regular person. Trying to comprehend the minute details of what she was saying was a futile effort. Thankfully, Ratio already knew post-amputation care inside out due to treating his fair share of similar patients.
As the anxious nurse timidly asked them if they had any further questions, Ratio could only shake his head absently. Ratio watched her shoulders sag with palpable relief as she hastily excused herself from the room. Well, someone really wanted to get out of the room asap.
Including him too, apparently, because Screwllum’s hand was still on Ratio’s waist.
“Did you catch all of that, Mr. Ratio? I understand the nurse was perhaps a little nervous facing us, thus rendering her incapable of articulating her sentences clearly.” Screwllum turned to him, his face so close that his voice sent a shudder straight to Ratio’s spine. Ratio did not dare to look over at him.
“If you like, I can explain once again your recovery plans after this.” Screwllum went silent as he stared at Ratio’s profile, before he continued softly. “But perhaps you don’t need one? After all, I do not doubt you know all there is to know about medicine already.”
Throughout all of that, Screwllum’s thumb was stroking Ratio’s waist, as if it were only an absentminded gesture. Which would be utter drivel, because Screwllum did not do things absentmindedly.
“I would be fine, Mr. Screwllum,” Ratio croaked out through his dry throat, and he suddenly remembered that he hadn’t drunk anything since his predicament. Before Ratio could even say a word, though, Screwllum handed him a glass of water—presumably, it had been sitting on his bedside table.
“Try to drink slowly,” Screwllum said, and Ratio flushed hotly because he felt—helpless. Humiliated.
Cared for.
Left with no other option, Ratio could only murmur a thank you as he took the glass and downed it in one go, just to show Screwllum he could do whatever he wanted, and there was nothing Screwllum could do about it. A childish way of grappling with whatever control he still had, but a needed action, nonetheless.
After Ratio was done gulping down his water, Screwllum wordlessly took the glass back and set it aside. He was still looking contemplatively at Ratio, as if mulling over the words he was going to say.
Ratio sighed. “Spit it out, Screwllum.”
Screwllum chuckled lightly, and Ratio valiantly tried to pretend it didn’t make him shiver. “Very well, Mr. Ratio.” Screwllum stopped his stroking—but only in favor of grabbing Ratio’s waist properly. Ratio exhaled softly. His left arm being a mere stump now means that Screwllum was basically pressed up against his side without anything in the way.
Ratio wasn’t sure how to feel about that.
Before he could spiral further, Screwllum’s question broke through his musings. “Mr. Ratio,” he began, “may I ask if you have an emergency contact in place?”
The question made Ratio blink, uncomprehending. Unthinkingly, he looked at Screwllum beside him properly since he woke up. “Not that I’m not grateful for all your help,” he spoke slowly, “but may I ask how that is relevant to you?”
Screwllum nodded, and he felt Screwllum’s right hand on his waist continue stroking again—if Ratio didn’t know any better, he’d say Screwllum was trying to distract him. “I noticed that despite the substantial injury you had,” the genius pointedly looked down at the stump between them, “I have not received any visitor claiming the honor of being your contact.”
At this, Ratio looked away from Screwllum—in guilt? In shame? “My emergency contact was technically my mentor, back in my home planet,” he started, “I travel a lot, however, and he is getting on in years. Interstellar travel does not quite agree with him anymore, much less any scare regarding my health condition. Besides, I am more than capable of handling my own incidents, thus I have no real need for an emergency contact.”
If Screwllum had eyebrows to raise, there was no doubt they would be raised quite high indeed. “Incidents you handled on your own? Such as your nerves almost being fried by the swarm corrosion, had nobody given the green light to go ahead with your amputation?”
Okay, that sarcasm was not warranted. “It is not my fault the Armed Archaeologist’s medic was so incapable,” he began to argue, but deflated not even two seconds later, reflecting on himself. “I admit, however, that it was fully an oversight on my part not to thoroughly examine the qualifications of all the expedition members before agreeing to join as its consultant—not to mention the contingencies that may or may not be in place.” He sighed before realizing something with a dawning dread. “Wait, my student—is she—”
“Your student is completely fine, Mr. Ratio,” Screwllum assured softly, and this time his slow stroking was a comfort to Ratio’s frayed nerves. The thought of his student being hurt under his watch—
“You didn’t fail her,” Screwllum continued tenderly, as if he was reading his mind. “She is alright, though understandably rattled by your injury. A doctor had already tended to her, both physically and mentally. She had asked if she could be allowed to visit you, but I concluded she would become more agitated seeing you so soon, and this would be counterproductive to her own mental state.” Screwllum hummed, considering. “Was that too presumptuous of me? Should I call her in?”
Ratio exhaled sharply, relief coursing through his veins. “No, that’s fine. You made the correct decision.” Ratio replied, his relaxed body unconsciously resting against Screwllum. “Seeing my amputated arm would only make her feel more guilty. I also trust in your assessment that she is doing alright.” Ratio looked up at Screwllum, his head now tucked in the genius’ shoulder. “I assume you went out of your way to personally check on her, as well.”
“I did,” Screwllum confirmed, “her safety is paramount to your mental state, and consequently, your speedy recovery. It was the least I could do.”
No, it wasn’t, Ratio didn’t say. Instead, he asked the question that had been bugging him ever since he spoke with Screwllum in the emergency room.
“Screwllum,” he began slowly, tongue sluggish as if reluctant to part with the words he had to say. “Why are you doing this?”
Ratio felt Screwllum stiffen almost imperceptibly, something he never would’ve noticed if they weren’t pretty much pressed against each other. Flesh to metal, only divided by the barest clothes. How interesting—one would think an Intellitron genius like Screwllum would never have a tell. Ratio almost felt himself smile against the seam of Screwllum’s coat.
“And don’t repeat yourself with an excuse about how you received the ship’s distress signal. Let us not disrespect ourselves by lying—or omitting the truth, for that matter.” Ratio sat upright again, picking up his head from its previous place on Screwllum’s shoulder. “Tell me the entire truth, this time,” he implored, now staring straight at Screwllum’s eyes.
The light of Screwllum’s eyes didn’t falter even once, nor did he blink or look away. Just as Ratio thought that his question would be answered directly for once, Screwllum instead followed up with: “Going on expeditions without emergency contacts that are easily reachable is not recommended, Mr. Ratio. It is an oversight that I do not expect from you, of all people.”
Ratio blinked for a second, thinking he had misheard. As the words registered though, he found himself angry. Indignant. Of course, of course, a genius such as he could not bother to set aside his condescension towards those lesser than himself, who was Ratio kidding, truly even Screwllum was no different than his peers in that ivory tower of theirs.
However, acting like he was reading Ratio’s mind once again, Screwllum tightened his hold on the scholar before he could extricate himself in disgust. “I do not expect it,” Screwllum continued, desperation seeping in his tone—that is, if Ratio bothered to notice. “Because I was sure you, of all people, would have someone in your life. Someone you could depend on in times of need.”
Ratio’s hand on Screwllum’s shoulder, initially intending to push him away, faltered. He was silent for a minute as he searched Screwllum’s eyes—for what, even he himself didn’t know. It wasn’t like an Intellitron's eyes reflected their emotions or anything. “Go on,” he breathed out instead.
“The moment I heard that it was you with the grave injury, I felt myself… short-circuiting.” Ratio felt Screwllum relaxing his hold on his waist—perhaps because the genius sensed that Ratio was no longer trying to run away from him. “My memory bank is… spotty. I did not conserve much data from punching in the code of your location to finally arriving at this ship. I must confess, I don't remember how I managed to get to you—only that I am glad I did, at that moment where I had to be the one to set your fate.” Screwllum paused, looking somberly at Ratio’s left shoulder with the stump still tightly bandaged. “Had I not been close by when all this happened… It was a possibility that I dare not entertain, Ratio.”
There were approximately one thousand six hundred and eighteen things Ratio wanted to say in response to… all that, but he managed to hold himself back. He could sense that Screwllum wasn’t finished, and far be it for a mere mundanite such as him to disrupt the genius who, by all sense of the word, was in the middle of laying down all his cards.
Ratio would be a good scholar—indeed, the greatest one there ever was, and do one thing only: Listen.
“Therefore, if it is true that you still have no emergency contact you could identify as your own—” Screwllum stopped, the teal light of his eyes shining intensely as he looked straight at Ratio like he was searching for something. Evidently finding what he was looking for, he continued. “Someone you could call on, who would waste no time running to you in your hour of need, even from another end of the galaxy—
Please, Mr. Ratio, let me have the honor to be yours.”
With that, Screwllum fell silent. His eyes still rested on Ratio’s face, perhaps trying to gauge his reaction. The weight of his unblinking gaze on Ratio was almost too heavy to carry on his now unbalanced shoulders.
Ratio exhaled sharply, looking away from that palpable gaze. What was he to do, after such a passionate declaration? “Let me have the honor to be yours,” the genius just said to him without an ounce of shame. Does he even know what he was saying?
Oh Aeons, what if he doesn’t? What if Screwllum actually thought it was normal for him to be Ratio’s emergency contact without a certain kind of relationship between them? Nous above, was he truly going to coach a Genius Society member in regard to interpersonal relations?
Warily, Ratio turned his attention back on Screwllum—who hadn’t looked away from Ratio even for a second, it seemed. “Screwllum,” he hesitated, pausing briefly before he decided to plunge into the matter at hand. “Do you… know what it means to be my emergency contact? No, on second thought, let me rephrase,” Ratio took a deep breath. “Do you understand exactly why you feel like you want to—no, need to be my emergency contact?”
“I have… a few hypotheses,” The genius dithered. By this point, Ratio had turned fully towards Screwllum, the latter’s arm fully enveloping Ratio in its hold. “Yet I find myself unsure whether you would like to hear it or not.”
Ratio almost rolled his eyes in disbelief. “At this point, what good does withholding thoughts do? I can handle it,” Ratio insisted, resolute. “Come at me, now. Let us peel those hypotheses together and find ourselves the absolute conclusion to this experiment.”
“As you wish, Mr. Ratio.” The scholar felt Screwllum’s arm tighten around his waist, as if making sure he wouldn’t be able to run away. Hah, still so utterly condescending, how he underestimated Ratio so. Instead of voicing this, he smirked and tightened his own hand on Screwllum’s shoulder in turn. Two can play the game.
“Hypothesis one: You are a trusted and reliable colleague who has contributed greatly to my field of study. It would be a great shame to learn that you are otherwise indisposed while I am neck-deep into my own research.” Ratio frowned, but before he could knock some sense into the metalhead, Screwllum thankfully continued. “A hypothesis that I discarded immediately. It is a little shameful to admit, but a coworker has never moved me quite this greatly, so I must conclude that I do not think of you as a mere research colleague.”
Ratio huffed, not quite displeased. At least Screwllum had some degree of self-awareness regarding his own emotions. “And the second?” he pressed.
“The second one,” Screwllum continued, “Is that I regard you as a dear friend of mine—one I would be devastated to hear to have undergone such a horrific accident.” He paused, contemplative. “I would be remiss to dismiss this hypothesis completely, for I find myself regarding it as closer to the truth. Yet—” Screwllum’s grip around him tightened almost imperceptibly. “To compare your standing to other friends I hold dear, it felt… not wrong, but not quite right either. For example, I do not think of you as I think of Madam Herta.” Ratio’s face contorted in disgust almost automatically at this comparison, to which Screwllum couldn’t help but chuckle. “And I have a feeling you will not appreciate that, either.”
Screwllum hummed, falling silent as his gloved thumb once again stroked the divot of Ratio’s hip. It was beginning to look like a nervous tic of the monarch indeed, and Ratio was almost curious enough to plan on scouring his libraries once again on the evolution of habit-forming in intellitrons.
“The third one, and the one I fear is the most plausible reason,” Screwllum started again, his voice almost hesitant. “Is that… I think of you as more than even a dear friend, Mr. Ratio.”
It was Ratio’s turn to hum in consideration. His fingers, still on Screwllum’s shoulder, started dancing to an invisible rhythm, betraying his own growing giddiness. “And pray tell, what exactly does ‘more than a dear friend’ mean to you, Mr. Screwllum?”
Contrary to his expectation, Screwllum’s voice grew stern. “It is not a conclusion to be formed lightly, Mr. Ratio. Certainly not one to be done without thorough self-assessment and observation.” The monarch then looked away, as if staring at Ratio’s eyes much longer would burden his engine immensely. “To draw this conclusion… It would spell much change between us—and not all of them good, I must say.”
He couldn’t help it—Ratio snorted. Loudly, gracelessly. “I can’t believe it,” Ratio wheezed, valiantly trying to be respectful of their very mature conversation. “Is the monarch of Planet Screwllum afraid right now?”
Ratio didn’t care that said monarch looked like he was trying to get an edge word-wise—now, it was his time to say his piece.
“I would have thought that the number 76 of the much-lauded Genius Society himself would consider all the factors indeed, before drawing this conclusion.” Ratio grinned, feeling quite like the cat that got the cream as he delivered the final blow. “It was an oversight that I do not expect from you, of all people.” He finished, purposefully echoing what Screwllum so humiliatingly said to him just moments before. The feeling of prevailing over a genius and using their own words against them—truly, there was nothing quite like it. Were his arms whole, he would’ve crossed them in front of his chest in triumph.
“Oh, Mr. Screwllum,” Ratio softened, his hand on Screwllum’s shoulder moving up towards his almost-hidden neck. “Self-assessment and observation are definitely important things,” he demurred, thumb stroking at the metal plate that formed the junction between the android’s neck and shoulder. “But surely, as this experiment does not pertain only to yourself, you should be open to input from the other, involved party?”
Slowly, Screwllum’s hand went to cup Ratio’s—not to make him let go, but just to hold him—feel him. “I had to admit my own failings for the umpteenth time today, Mr. Ratio. Indeed, I was perhaps afraid of that party’s input to this experiment,” he replied, turning to look at Ratio once again with seemingly great courage. “Madam Herta once told me that failure is a mark of success for a genius. Yet in this particular experiment, I find myself hesitant in accepting that it could end in failure.”
Ratio chuckled. “Even though it could also end in success?”
Screwllum only nodded slightly. From this angle, Ratio thought that the genius almost looked downcast, his face almost obscured by the brim of his hat. “Once again, that was something I dare not entertain. After all, to get the definitive conclusion, it is true I had to input the other researcher’s answer. All the parts of my body were signalling that it was better to let Schrödinger's cat be in its bag, unchecked.” The monarch chuckled, sounding dangerously close to self-deprecation. “It seems that I have been nothing but a coward in regard to you, Mr. Ratio.”
Ratio shrugged, one good shoulder moving up in an almost exaggerated way of showing nonchalance. “No harm done,” he began, willing his tremulous voice to stay steady. “It wasn’t something unfixable, was it? We could still get the other researcher’s input now.”
“Indeed, we could,” Screwllum replied softly. “And? May I have the honor of receiving that particular researcher’s input now?”
Honor, that silly word again. Truly, the gentleman monarch must love that word. What else was there for Ratio to do but conduct himself honorably, too?
Nobody said he had to give his input with words, though.
Truly, Ratio thought there was nothing more fulfilling than shutting up the genius with his own words. Evidently, though, it was no match for the euphoria one gets when shutting up the genius with a kiss.
The fact that he didn’t even have lips to speak yet still chose not to say anything was a damning thing on its own. With his eyes closed and lips still firmly pressed against the genius’s faceplate, Ratio couldn’t help but smile.
As he slowly opened his eyes and pulled away from the android’s face, he didn’t bother hiding his self-satisfied grin. “Well?” Ratio said breathlessly. “Does that input change anything in the equation, Mr. Screwllum?”
The monarch fell silent, the light of his eyes blinking rapidly before settling on its usual color. Ratio couldn’t help but laugh—his right arm automatically looping around Screwllum’s neck in endearment.
How cute.
“Well? Don’t keep me waiting too long, Mr. Screwllum—what’s the verdict on this experiment?” Ratio continued cheekily, not feeling the slightest bit sorry for the genius. It was hard to imagine the monarch of Planet Screwllum as being any sort of inexperienced, but it seems there truly was a first time to everything. You truly learn something new every day.
Perhaps in response to Ratio’s nonverbal answer, Screwllum decided to answer in kind. He abandoned his previous tentative touch to fully wrap his own mechanical arms around Ratio’s middle. The brim of his hat got slightly knocked upwards, ruffling Ratio’s bangs as he put his metal forehead softly against his.
The scholar’s giddy smile turned slightly wistful. It was a shame they took so long to come to this, Ratio lamented. He would’ve loved to put his arms around Screwllum’s neck when he still had them whole. But such was life.
“Guess that cat’s finally out of the bag now, isn’t it?” Ratio murmured, before eliminating the space between them once more.
Such is life, Ratio thought. It never takes without giving.
“That would be all for today, Dr. Ratio,” his physical therapist reported. “Your progress has been coming along nicely—your excellent physical state is a major factor, of course, but I’ve never seen someone acclimate to their prosthesis so fast.”
Ratio nodded as he slowly flexed his new prosthetic, feeling each and every artificial nerve move at his slightest command. He’s been wearing it for about a month now, and he was pleasantly surprised to find himself without any notable discomfort. The therapist’s reaction was understandable.
Then again, it was just as expected of a Screwllumite-made prosthetic, he supposed.
Now finished with his physical therapy for the week, Ratio bid farewell to his therapist as he left the room and traversed the short walk to the hospital’s exit.
The afternoon sun beating down on him made his prosthesis shine a glossy black, the meteoric alloy shining bright in the light. If Ratio walked under this sun even a little longer, he was sure he’d be roasted alive.
Thankfully, the person he was meeting was only a short distance ahead. From here, Ratio could see him sitting on an outdoor umbrella table as he sipped elegantly from a cup. This means it was indeed easier for Ratio to locate him, though he already spied a few people staring not so subtly at the android.
Nothing he could do about it now, Ratio sighed.
“Do you perhaps fancy catching people’s attention on purpose sometimes, Mr. Screwllum?” Ratio asked as he slid into the chair in front of the genius. “The humble masses don’t exactly see Mechanical Aristocrat Screwllum I every day, if you must know.”
Screwllum tilted his head, placing the cup back on the table—tea, today. “Mr. Ratio,” he greeted warmly. “I must say, the club sandwich here is just delightful. Would you care for a piece?”
Ratio rolled his eyes, yet he could see his face accommodating a growing smile. “Thank you, but no thank you,” he demurred. “I thought we planned to dine in your personal insectarium, Screwllum?”
Screwllum chuckled, the fondness in its voice washing through Ratio’s entire being like a refreshing shower. “True enough. However, you must remember that I do not digest things as you do, and have no actual function in being “full”, as organics might say. As I am already here, I thought it a shame not to try some of the local delicacies.”
Ratio snorted in response. “I’d hardly call club sandwiches a local delicacy, but whatever your flights of fancy suggest, Your Majesty.” Ratio tilted his head slightly towards the leftover sandwiches. “We could just take those to go, right? We should get going,” Ratio said, discreetly looking around. “Lest the people hovering nearby become an actual crowd.”
“As you wish, Your Majesty,” Screwllum replied, cheekiness radiating from his gentlemanly demeanor. “Please give me a moment to bring this plate to the kind cashier.”
Ratio clicked his tongue, finding himself helplessly fond. What kind of king brought his own food to the cashier to request it packed to go? “I’ll do it,” Ratio said before Screwllum could say anything on the matter, snatching up the plate swiftly with his prosthetic arm. “You just sit tight and continue planning on how you would make this, as you say, “the most memorable date you will have in your life,” Ratio smirked, quoting his partner.
Screwllum only hummed, for once not falling for his bait. His eyes landed on Ratio’s prosthesis. “How is that arm faring for you, Mr. Ratio? Are there any concerns?”
“None whatsoever,” Ratio answered smoothly. Now that they’ve been going steady for a few months, Ratio knew that it was better to quash Screwllum’s worrywart tendency before it even began. “But it was as expected, from a prosthesis you designed yourself.” Ratio huffed, amused despite himself. “I still can’t believe you gave me a prosthetic designed after your own material.”
“Can’t you?” Screwllum replied without missing a beat. “I think it’s par for the course. There is no reason to be found in my reasoning module not to have my lover equipped with the most advanced prosthesis, so he recovers smoothly and quickly, without any notable setbacks. Not when I have the power to give it to him.”
Ratio coughed. He felt his face heat up in a way that had nothing to do with the weather. “Fine, it’s my fault for dredging up this conversation again.” Ratio huffed, looking away to avoid the satisfied glint in Screwllum’s eyes. “If you’ll excuse me, I will get these packed. In the meantime, please do finish your tea—I’m sure I don’t have to teach you the manners of wasting food,” he said instead, just to have Screwllum move on from the frankly embarrassing topic.
Screwllum feigned acquiescence, mischief radiating from every part of his body as he said: “Duly noted,” he paused for dramatics, “Veritas.”
Ratio barely held himself back from spluttering at the sound of his first name. “You—” the audacity of this man! Unfortunately, Ratio could feel himself resembling a tomato more by the second, and he was forced to lift the figurative white flag up—for the moment, anyway. “We’ll talk about this later,” he hissed, before finally going to the cashier—who was trying very hard to pretend that she hadn't been staring at them all this time.
As the cashier nervously rang up their order, Ratio let himself smile—not before hiding the damning expression with the palm of his prosthetic, of course.
Honestly, what an incorrigible man.
As the cold of his prosthesis bites into his feverish face, Ratio couldn’t help but think back on the string of events that led to this moment.
Truly, life never takes anything without giving something back.