OVERLOOKED ㅤkotlc

001. She'd Cut Me Off

Whoever is delighted in solitude,
is either a wild beast or a god.
Aristotle

"Dex, we need to investigate an abandoned Neverseen base."

I already know what's coming next, it's the same words she says every time. You're my best friend, Sophie, but I'm easily replaceable to you, aren't I?

And then, as predicted—"Is it okay if you stay behind and work on some weapons with Tinker?" She sounds worried, but I don't think she's worried about me.

I'm tempted to refuse, but I never have before. "Of course. Be careful out there."

She smiles, a mix of tension and gratefulness. What's going on inside her head? Does she even realize she's excluding me? "Thanks, Dex, I'll see you later?" Before I can reply, she holds her pathfinder to the light and glitters away.

I'm over her by now, if I'm being honest. She doesn't like me, so I accepted that, and we took a break, and I'm okay now.

But it feels like we're not okay now. We never hang out anymore, and it's like she's drifting away; I want to talk to her, but... I don't think she has the time.

I lightleap to Widgetmoor. No need to get my stuff from home; Tinker has enough to spare there, and I've been there enough for her to not expect me to bring anything.

I take my time getting to her. I play with the mechanical bunnies, I study them, I talk to them. It's really silly, actually, how I spend my time.

Sophie and the others are risking their lives. So why am I here talking to machines?

When I finally go to where Tinker and I usually work, she's already there. She probably already knew I was here, but she never rushes me. "Hey."

She doesn't look up, focused on whatever she's working on. Her fingers are stained with some kind of gold dust, so I get the towel from the counter and toss it onto the table.

Finally, she looks up to wipe her hands. "They're on a mission again?"

I nod. "Yeah. An abandoned Neverseen base."

Tinker's mouth forms an "o." She clearly knows what mission this is. "Should we get to work?" Tinker studies me. "Or do you want to talk?"

She's started asking this more often. I'm not exactly sure why, but it's a nice gesture nonetheless. "Work's fine," I say. "We should start a weapon, though."

"Shouldn't we finish our last project?" Over the past month, Tinker has avoided this topic 73 times, even though she'd agreed to help.

"We can start this one, too," I insist. "Come on, they're out there, and they're probably going to be in trouble, and if they get hurt, and don't have any kind of help from us..."

She raises her eyebrows. It sounds like I'm desperately trying to be helpful in some way, and it sounds pitiful to even me. I don't look away, though.

There's a pause. "What do you have in mind?" Tinker says.

I know she's going to reject my idea if I don't have some kind of security system, but I'd already brainstormed a design last week (while I was putting off homework).