(Thomas's POV)
The next morning...
Thomas's hands were steady as he measured a volatile reagent for Professor Vane. His mind was, for the first time in days, completely, blissfully... quiet.
He finished his titration. The solution was stable.
He waited.
...Nothing.
He began cleaning his glassware, his movements precise. Still nothing. No door slamming open. No shriek of Thomas! No whirlwind of orange hair and soot contaminating his sterile field.
He noticed the emptiness.
Thomas paused, his hand hovering over a beaker. The silence, which should have been a relief, was... distracting. His sociopathic mind, built on recognizing and analyzing variables, had subconsciously logged Rosalie Vanya as a recurring, chaotic factor.
Her absence was now a new, unexplained variable that was disrupting his focus more than her presence had.
He was annoyed. He was annoyed that he was annoyed.
He put the beaker down with a sharp clink.
