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See, Etho is an extremely reasonable person. Bdubs asks it to come with, and it does. Simple as that.
It trails him deeper into the Institute, past the Archives and the door that leads nowhere and the corridor that leads everywhere, and into this tiny little room. Bdubs closes the door behind him with a click.
There’s a singular chair, in which Bdubs sits.
“So!” he says, all smile.
Etho does not fidget. “Why’d you call me down here?”
“Well, we here at the Institute have no idea what you are,” and here he gestures vaguely in Etho’s direction, “and we’d like to find out!”
“What,” Etho says.
Bdubs pauses, before his eyes widen even bigger. “OH! Oh, no, not like that– um, in terms of– the Fears, of course, why would it– no, it’s– ugh.” He groans and runs a hand down his face. "Your insides!"
"Ah," Etho says, because it is reasonable. "My insides."
Bdubs flushes. "You know what I mean!"
Etho could push. It's fun! It likes to push, especially on Bdubs. But even it can admit that there is a certain allure to whatever Bdubs is suggesting, so it shrugs and goes, "D'you want me to lie down, then?"
Bdubs pauses. Looks around the empty room, as if a table or perhaps a clean cloth will appear if he wills it to. It doesn't, only because a) Bigb has been missing for two days and a week, and thus cannot commit to 'the bit', and b) the room is far too small.
"I guess you can lie on the floor, then," he grumbles, and pushes the chair to the side.
Etho lies down. It has just enough space to move its arms around this way and that, and then some.
"Stop moving," Bdubs says.
Etho stops moving.
Bdubs kneels beside it and sets his bag down. Rifles through it, pulls out a scalpel–
"I think just a penknife would do, you know," Etho says.
"Shut up," Bdubs tells it. "Take off your shirt."
While Bdubs grabs the penknife, Etho pulls its shirt over its head. Its jacket is already bunched up off to the side, and it tosses its shirt into that pile.
"Okay!" Bdubs turns back around, flushes a little when he sees Etho in all its chestly glory. "Um. Well. Let's just–"
Bdubs leans over Etho, hovers the penknife hesitantly over its body. "I've never actually cut someone open before, you know," he says.
"I'm sure you'll do fine," Etho tells him.
Despite his grievances, Bdubs' hand does not shake. He brings the penknife down, near Etho's left shoulder, and then slices down quick. There's a soft ripping sound, and it parts easily.
"Oh! Oh, wow." Bdubs slices down from the other shoulder, and then makes a third cut down the middle of Etho's chest. The paper-skin flaps slightly, revealing a hollowed-out inside.
"Yeah," Etho says. "There's usually– something in there. It depends on the, y'know."
"I do," Bdubs murmurs. He sticks his hand into the cavity, wiggles his fingers. "Can you feel this?"
"I can't feel anything," Etho reminds him. "I'm paper."
"Right." Bdubs pulls his hand back out. "What sort of things do you have in there?"
"There were spiders once," Etho says. "And, uh, there was this time when it was all water, but I didn't get soggy." It chuckles slightly. "Um, what else… maggots, I think, or maybe worms?"
Bdubs' face grows pale. He swallows, closes his eyes, opens them again.
"Sorry," Etho mumbles.
"No, no, it's fine!" Bdubs waves it away. "Does it feel weird? Having nothing in you?"
"I can't feel," Etho repeats. "But it's– I guess it's more–"
It fumbles for something to say. It doesn't feel weird, but it'd rather like having insides to having nothing.
Bdubs seems to understand, though, a fact that Etho will eternally be grateful for. "Would you mind if I made you something? Like, a heart, or lungs. They won't work, of course, I'm not that far into–"
"That'd be nice," Etho says. "I'd like it."
"Oh!" Bdubs blinks. "Okay, if you say so."
Bdubs reaches into his bag again, pulls out a really large sheet of square paper. It's patterned with little fish.
"Oh, I like fish!" Etho says.
It does not. But that makes Bdubs brighten a little, so that's probably the same thing, right?
"You do?" Bdubs grins, eyes sparkling, and places the sheet down gently. "That's great! You're gonna have a fishy heart for the rest of your life!"
Etho hums in response, which seem to make Bdubs perk up even more. He digs for his phone and switches it on, much to Etho's bemusement. He goes and types something in the search bar–
"What are you searching for?"
"A tutorial! On how to make origami hearts. I've never made a realistic one before. I don't want to mess it up."
–and frowns. Taps the screen aggressively, does it twice more. He lets out a frustrated growl.
"It's not loading," he grumbles.
"Well, it's the Institute," Etho points out, astutely. "We're underground."
Bdubs sighs again. Taps his phone a fourth time for good measure, then tosses it onto the chair. It lands face down. "Fine. Fine! I don't need a tutorial. I can do it myself."
"Because you're just good like that?" Etho probes. If it could smile, it would have. It doesn't have a face — or much of anything, really — beneath its mask, though, so it just pretends.
Bdubs puffs out his chest anyway. "Because I am just good like that," he agrees, and picks up the paper.
Etho watches. Its paper-skin flaps, brushes the inside of its body and then the outside and then inside again. Bdubs's hands are steady, sure, folding and creasing the paper. The fish sink out of sight, one by one, buried deep under folds. Slowly, slowly, a shape begins to form, under his careful ministrations.
The room is silent, except for the crinkle of paper and Bdubs' soft breaths. Etho takes the time to look at him, at the way his eyes squint and eyebrows crinkle. Its gaze keeps drifting back to his hands, though, carefully molding the paper, smoothing out the creases and refolding. Undo, redo. Undo, redo. Fold, fold, crease, fold.
Soon, Bdubs has in hand an origami heart the size of his fist. He appraises it for a moment longer, then looks up at Etho.
"It's not really good," he starts, and immediately Etho feels the need to interrupt, "and I think if I could follow the tutorial–"
"I think this is better than what it could have been," Etho says, firm.
"Oh!" Bdubs blinks. "I mean, if you say so."
He swallows — Etho tracks the bob of his throat, the way he licks his lips after — and leans over its open chest. Gently, he places the heart inside. Etho can't see what he's doing; from here, Bdubs' head is blocking its view of its chest.
Regardless, it knows when Bdubs attaches the heart. It can't feel it — it's paper, after all — but it can tell. Something heavier weighing it down, but it doesn't quite mind. Bdubs' hands in it, soft, and for once Etho wishes it could feel something, that it really did have something inside it, if only to feel Bdubs molding it to his liking.
"Done!" Bdubs sits back on his heels with a flourish.
Etho finally gets a good look at its insides. There's its heart! It has a heart now! "Woah."
Etho doesn't know how Bdubs'd done it, but its heart is stuck to its body, almost like an extension of it. It's so… clean. Etho hadn't known paper could look like this. Vaguely, it wonders what kind of glue Bdubs had been using.
"Do you like it?" Bdubs looks at him with wide eyes.
Etho gives Bdubs a thumbs up.
He breaks out into a grin. "Oh, that's great! That's good."
A pause. Etho stares at the ceiling and listens to Bdubs rifle through his bag.
"Uh," he says. "I ran out of paper."
"That's fine," Etho says, and tilts its head up just so, making eye contact with Bdubs. "I never came down here for a heart, anyway. I thought you were going to kill me or something."
Bdubs gasps. "I would never!" he protests, a hand over his own heart. Etho can hear it fluttering from where it's lying, a frantic thump-thump-thump. There's nothing to be worried about. Why is it so fast?
Regardless, it doesn't say anything. Bdubs seals him back closed with the same sort of ease he'd done when attaching his heart. Nothing but his hands, slowly pinching the incisions closed.
They linger a bit, Bdubs' hands, after Etho's all patched up. Over its chest, then slowly moving upwards. Pauses over its face, its mask.
"Do you–" He swallows, tries again. "Do you have a face under there? I can make one for you!"
Etho freezes, and immediately Bdubs stumbles over his words to backtrack. "I mean– no, it's fine, actually, forget I said that–"
"No, you don't need to apologise," Etho says, because why would he? This is all on Etho, anyway; the worry that Bdubs will peel open the mask and craft a face and the first thing that Etho will do with the newly-sculpted mouth is tell him that it–
"You really don't," Etho says, and that's the end of it.
It sits up, reaches for its shirt and puts it back on. Pretends not to notice Bdubs' lingering stare as it shrugs on its jacket. He pats its shoulder stiffly, then helps it to stand.
Bdubs smiles at it, and for a moment, Etho can almost hear its heart beating.