His eyes watched your every move and followed your every thought. With anyone else, the unnecessary vigilance might of unsettled you but with him the silence became oddly comfortable. Besides, you knew he was just studying you to try and find some kind of understanding of your existence. Or at least that's what you assumed.

"Can you hand me that—" looking over to his outstretched hand you saw that he'd already guessed what you'd need or ask. It didn't really freak you out but more so was intriguing, you thought as your hand reached over to snatch the wire cutters from him and set back to work. He leaned back against the ledge of the workbench and eyed the explosion of multicolored wires that bloomed haphazardly from your robots chest.

Or the one that you had given your alternate ecto-self, that is. You sat crisscross atop the workbench in that 'man cave' deemed room of Bro's and Dave apartment. Frankly, it was more of loft that had stairs to allow access to the rooftop. No way in hell would you suggest going up there right about now, though. Today was record breaking highs under the Texas heat for the history books.

When the apartment had been yours on a platform in the middle of an ocean it had been substantially cooler from the wind currents that swathed up from the sea, you remembered. Screw that. Your brother may have adjusted perfectly to the 'Shift' but you couldn't have disagreed with this more. Now skyscrapers dominated the skyline and plucked your endless ocean view behind soaring towers. This ocean was shit anyhow; polluted beyond repair and just as wretched.

As if it couldn't get worse your cell toned from atop the counter adjacent to where you sat. It was English; you were sure of it from the ringtone he'd set for himself. God, did your social issues have to arise with your mental ones too? And at equivalent times?

You slam the wire cutters down on the black metal table, grinding your teeth and pushing the blunt of your palm against the area above your left eye. A fresh migraine throbbed there when you tried dwelling on the past. Or future. You were stuck in their present.

"Need a break?" Dave's Bro asks, uncrossing his arms from his chest and edging forward. He wouldn't ask about the cold shoulder you gave your cells alert. He more than likely was aware of it anyhow. At the moment you couldn't exactly withstand a barrage of question anyhow.

You flash him your palm, stopping him while you reached up to rip your shades from your face and chuck them aside. At the moment you couldn't give a shit less that they clattered to the tile below or that for once, someone was watching you with genuine concern.

A frustrated groan grinds out from your throat as you rub the palms of your hands into your eyes. Elbows on your knees you stay like that for what feels like weeks as you brood over trivial matters you'd otherwise ignore. Except to you they weren't just as inconsequential as everyone brushed them off to be.

It wasn't like you had especially enjoyed living on a planet with a human population of two, but somehow you were merely more adjusted to that than being surrounded by people. Millions of people everywhere; so loud, so tangible, so inconsiderate of your space, so real, so strange. Nothing here was proverbial. It was a far earlier time from yours yet living here you were even denied the only sliver of marginal familiarity. That little shit in the aviators had made sure of that.

You weren't even entirely positive why he firmly stood against you moving into your own apartment. Nope. Not a clue. Yet now you upheld a penthouse with your Bro—even if he was gone the majority of the time—so fuck that brat. Oh wait. You had.

"Timeline shit, again?" he asks tentatively once your muscles seemed to have lost a bit of tension. You take in a deep breath and roll you head to the side in your hands to glance at him. His face remained impassive yet you effortlessly caught the subtle signs of his concern. His lips were pressed in a firm line and jaw taught enough to tell you all that you needed to know.

"I suppose you could say that." You mutter rubbing your face before pushing your hands through your hair. Without giving yourself another second to pathetically wallow in self conflicts, you sit up and turn your attention back to Sawtooth. He wasn't as interesting as he had been; yet another thing dulled by your shifted timelines. Though if a modern engineer of Dave's age could get a hold of this bot, you'd wager the century would be rocketed into robotic innovation.

You grabbed the wire cutters and snipped at two wires that you continued to hold between your thumb and index while you reached for the roll of black electrical tape resting by your knee. Using one hand you brought it to your mouth and ripped a sizeable strip off. Tossing it back down you used the piece you'd taken to attach the new wires to close the circuit. At the moment you were far too impatient to get up and fish a neon orange cap from the jar at the end of the bench to properly adjoin the wires. Or maybe lazy was the better word.

"I'll need to take him back with me for a while…" You say absently mindedly, thinking of Squarewave sitting deactivated and rusting alone in your workroom. It wasn't fair to either of them. Why you'd separated them in the first place was beyond you at the moment. You even cracked a smirk thinking Saw had shorted out from heartbreak.

He hadn't answered you, neither consenting nor denying your request. You doubted he'd care though and might just let you keep him. Or re-keep since he had technically been a gift from you. Either way, you figured reuniting them would serve as your good deed of the day and may just spice up your karma.

Your hands worked quickly to finish capping the excess wires and threading them back into the chest cavity of the robot. Shifting up on your knees you leaned forward to reach for the panel to secure the opening as well as a Philips head to screw to it back in place; the muscles in your back stretch achingly from being inactive as you'd sat indulged in the wired mess. Sitting back once more you placed the metal hatch over it and tightened the loosened screws till it creaked in protest.

"Give the operating system time to adjust and let 'em test out the circuits." You say uncrossing your legs and bracing yourself on the table to throw your legs over the side. "I'll have to come back for him lat—" he'd cut you off and took you by surprise when that silent statue had finally decided to make a move. Dave's Bro was far more interesting than yours, you thought as you sized him up.

Your legs framed his hips and hung limply from the workbench table he'd caged you on. His hands were firmly planted on the table at either side of your thighs as his eyes bored into yours from behind his shades just as intensely.

"You fucked Dave?" he asks in a condemning tone that was far more statement than question. You thought it to be pretty ironic that he'd suddenly become protective of his sibling and especially in his specific way. After what he had done first, that is. You didn't say this, but you knew it showed on your face.

You saw the muscles in his jaw twitch as he narrowed his eyebrows at you accusingly. It didn't bother you too extensively that you weren't wearing your shades; it never had with him, for some reason. You felt your mouth pulling to the side in a half sneer that only made him tense more. It wasn't as if you purposely aimed to taunt him.

His words had just struck a deep cord buried beneath denial about your relationship with your brother. Or so it felt to your subconscious, that is. But maybe it was something that ran exclusively that way? It wasn't like you'd gotten to know Dave that well. You were just hormonal teenagers looking for a good fuck, or so you'd convinced yourself.

"Jealous?" you mock, perplexed the words had blurted from your mouth. Shit, you hadn't meant to say that?! It was certainly like a slap to the face to him, you gathered, yet he took it well. Any other person wouldn't have even noticed the way in which his demeanor changed ever so subtly.

"Don't screw with his head like that, Dirk." He growls in voice full of the restraint of anger you certainly didn't blame him for having. Oh course, you hadn't been just 'screwing with his head' when you'd done it. Maybe a bit of manipulation. Some coercing…but it had been consensual. Definitely consensual.

"It wasn't like that." You say looking away from him and focusing on the fridge that hummed idly to distract you. To be honest, you knew he would be able to read your eyes and see just what you'd been thinking. Had it been out of respect or embarrassment that you wanted to hide those dirty details from him?

"Oh? So you're not to blame for the fact that he's been avoiding me for two weeks? Besides what I was responsible for." he asks venom leaking into his tone as he adds that last bit. His seemingly infinite patience only extended so far, you realized. Technically, you thought, it was not your fault. He had made the first move and subliminally planted that seed in Dave's mind. It happened that it was you who had the same face as he did.

He shakes his head lightly, causing the overhead fluorescents to glint in his sunglasses. Your own image was reflected in the black anime shades and stared back at you despondently. Why couldn't he just drop it? Dave wasn't too enthused to chat with you either and when he did it seemed he was restraining himself. Like he'd been pushed too far and had shut down because of what you and his brother had done with him. Great.

"Do you know what he came damn near to calling me yesterday? When I finally coaxed a word out of him." he asks, bringing his hands from the surface of the workbench and instead grabbing fistfuls of the hem of your black wifebeater. His posture bent slightly as he leaned into your face to say in a clipped pitch. "Dirk."

Your eyebrows knitted together and your own hands formed fists as you defiantly crossed your arms across your chest. He couldn't be serious. He was just screwing with you right now. No doubt jibbing back at you for some jovial jest you'd shared and lacked retribution.

"I sincerely doubt he wouldn't be able to tell the, ah, difference." You reply quickly after pulling your face back to his hesitantly. He looked pissed. Thoroughly pissed. But what if Dave was suffering from more than the whiplash of the post-game world? It felt like dusk was settling on a crime scene, you summed up, thinking all the Beta and Alpha kids were fucked up in the head from the game yet no one was talking about it. Like an elephant in the room that was stifling everyone with his pressing weight.

If you'd pushed him too far he might just retaliate. That meaning some infamous strife that should no doubt be recorded in history and capped for the silver screen. What a redoubtable opponent he'd be. Would he fight exactly as you or possess some unexpected skill you couldn't counter? The competitive and curious spectrum of your mind ached to know; to see him in action.

"I wasn't the one who screwed up." You chide already hating the tone your voice implied. This wasn't normal behavior for you and only emphasized the imminent dangers of your curiosity. It was inevitable, you gather, that the two of you sparred—however short the battle may be. Besides, a winner may not be crowned.

"Is that right?" he growls low in his throat with enough malice to offset any valiant hero. His jaw tightened in irritation when your smirk lost its ground and slipped marginally. He was grown man; stronger than you and larger than you. You needed an unbreakable and infinitely grand katana. Now.

"The only person he'll talk with is Rose and even she felt the need to contact me about it. Before you and I did what we did with him she told me that I should give him space. I didn't understand why, Hell I'd barely said two words to him; how could I give him anymore space than that?" You finally say when he finally sets his jaw and you finally attempt to brush the attitude from your voice if not marginally.

You shouldn't be taking your anger, stress, and exhaustion out on him. Hell you shouldn't of used Dave for an outlet either. That's what Roxy would be chiding you about right now, you wagered. In any case it wasn't even slightly fair to either of them for you to be screwing around with their heads.

"That's why I came over that day we fooled around—to see what the hell was up with him. I swear I didn't know what he was feeling. Rose only called me again to tell me why I shouldn't stay away after he spilled everything to her about what we did." You finish, hating the way this must have sounded. But it was true.

You'd already tried blaming her for not telling you why you should've given him space but you couldn't; she had warned you and if she was anything like Roxy was to you then you should have just listened and obeyed without question. You only had yourself to blame for messing with Dave's head and possibly ruining his relationship with his brother.

"I—I apologize if this screws up things with you." he watches you closely under the fluorescent light and in return your eyes flit around his face just as closely. Your face in a few years, you thought. Although you hoped you wouldn't turn out to be as guarded. If that damned game taught you anything, it was to appreciate life.

"He'll get over it eventually." He states punctually, moving from the workbench you sat upon to uncage you. That couldn't be the extent to your radical punishment, you reasoned as he stepped back to leaning against the table opposite the one you currently sat upon. He still watched you narrowly yet now you were beginning to question him unlike you ever had.

Something was…off with him. Almost as if he was holding dire information back or like someone with a guilty conscious. You could just sense it under that façade that you only hoped you'd come near to mastering one day. It was there in the way he had physically removed himself from that last comment; standing back and putting actual space between you.

"But what?" you say, less than pleased yet intrigued by this. So it would seem you were learning to understand your ecto-self better, you realized when he tilted his head back to look at you wider angle. Subconsciously, you knew exactly why he was holding back the harassment as he was overly protective of Dave.

"Are you holding back because you fucked my brother?" you were impressed to say your tone was controlled and the attitude kept to a teeth grinding minimum. Oddly, you didn't aim to throw this in his face or call him out on being a hypocrite.

In your eyes, no it wasn't fair that he was harassing you about what you did with Dave. But they were adults and you could hardly care less or count the amount of chicks and dudes your bro brought home, even if it irked you that one guy was Dave's bro.

"It does make me hypocrite in a sense but I'm just looking out for Dave, alright? He's a kid, he doesn't know what the hell he's doing." He finally answers after drawing a breath to calm his nerves. Dave was hardly a child. He'd grown so much in the time that had passed in the game. Perhaps him the most, that is, because of his aspect. You had been intrigued with his role in and being of time. You'd wanted to ask him how it worked; how did he know he was the original Dave? How many doomed Daves were there? Could he feel all those different timelines?

"He's not a kid. None of us are anymore. He was Progression—Time. If anything he grew the most." You say, a protective growl in your voice that surprised even you. You were certainly sticking up for him and in a vague way, you found it to be something you felt more responsible for than obliged to do. But no it wasn't that you felt he needed protecting; he could hold his own. However, he did need a friend and a confidant to rely on that understood his issues. Dave's Bro couldn't be that for he didn't remember and couldn't sympathize with Dave's introspective conflict. But you could, and you wanted to,

"I'm going to be there for him. It wasn't my intention to toy with him and I don't aim to manipulate him for another purpose. I understand what he is going through." The look he gives you, like he's pondering whether you're truthful or whether you're pulling strings. Though you left your face open and eyes unveiled, he seemed to deliberate for ages. Ironically, it seemed time had fled from your dispute.

"I can trust you?" he asks, simply yet with as much emotion you'd ever heard in his bright bass voice. Yes, wholly. This wasn't a matter which you'd joke about or take lightly. This was no longer and game. Actions were set in stone, decisions had unpredictable outcomes, and the consequences couldn't be so easily repealed. There was no algorithm or cheat code or online walkthrough for which you could reap the normally unattainable benefits with. Everything must come to an end, even the falsity of the game that had been your reality for so long.

"Yes. You can."