“Glitch?”

Sparks are flying, and he can’t hear him over the din of the welding. Funny, how no one could imagine he was the sort that was not only a dreamer, but a tinker. Sure, the big things he organized others to build for him, but there was nothing he like better that getting into the thick of a new contraption and building it from scratch himself, connecting the bits, wiring the system, fusing the joints—

It’s such a relief, being whole again. The first few weeks were terrible, horrible, but things have finally started to settle up there, and, well, his noggin may not be quite up to scratch anymore, but it’s been on fire since and he hasn’t felt this good in, well, ages!

It’s horribly hot this close to the welder, though, so the sooner this job’s done the better—

“GLITCH!” is what he finally does hear over the din of his workshop, and he raises his mask just in time to have it fall back over his face as a slap on his back hits him so hard he can feel his chest rattle.

“Stop stop!” he cries, trying to avoid the blows of the open hand on his back. “What do you think you are doing!” he demands, finally allowed to escape. He lifts the mask once more, and goggles at the man who so brazening attacked him. “Cain!” he says. He huffs and puffs in indignation, trying to think of all sorts of things he could yell at Cain, mainly starting with ‘Have you lost your marbles?’ and ending somewhere around, ‘And I thought I was the half brain!’ (Though he’s technically got his brains now, thank you very much, they’re just sort of all jumbled up still, and that can’t be helped).

Cain has got a look to him that’s part anger, part worry. “You were on fire,” he says through clenched teeth.

Glitch blinks, and looks himself over. With a twist of his torso and a tug of his lab coat, he can see the singed holes on his shoulder. Goodness, if he hadn’t been wearing his protective coat—

Oh wait. He wasn’t wearing it. That’s right. That’s why his coat is singed, and still smoking a bit, oh look at that. He had forgotten. Just like yesterday he had forgotten to put his goggles on until Cain had yelled it was bad enough he had lost his mind, he shouldn’t be trying to lose his sight as well.

Oh. Well. That changed everything.

“Really, I don’t know what I’d do without you,” he says instead, and with the sweetest smile, all anger forgotten. He thanked him, and lowered his mask, turning back to his work.

A tap on his shoulder. Raising the mask and looking over his shoulder, Cain’s pointing over his shoulder towards the protective gear still hanging on the peg around the work desk.

“Aha, right. Thank you, Cain,” he says, and Cain only makes a face as Glitch drops everything to finally suit up properly.

Absented minded and brilliant is a terrible combination, Cain thinks. Oh, sure, there’s worse things…but this is just worrisome.