Chapter Text
The moment Ratio steps into the Intelligentsia Guild and hears the word “Penacony” aimed at him, a plaster bust materializes around his head in a pulse of Imaginary energy.
It was an oversight to not wear it upon arrival; an overestimation of the professionalism offered to him by the young Armed Archaeologist assistant who was sent to greet him upon his return. Perhaps it’s his fault for having higher, clearly unrealistic expectations.
Ratio’s already thin patience lasts all of one and a partial attempts at begging him for what surely amounts to no more than gossip about the situation on Penacony before he can no longer suffer the assistant’s obtuseness.
“I came here at the behest of the Armed Archaeologists to work, lest you forget,” Ratio says. He does not even remotely attempt to keep the snap of irritation from his voice. Screwllum is here, too, his brain unhelpfully supplies; but, while true, the thought is not immediately relevant. The Archaeologist assistant has the gall to remain undeterred, and Ratio speaks again when he sees the man open his mouth to respond. “If you want to know about the situation on Penacony, have you tried reading the news?”
“Yes, but you were there, Dr. Ratio! You had a firsthand -”
“The question was rhetorical.” Ratio ignores the overeager assistant and turns away abruptly, walking down the hall. He doesn’t need to be guided in the first place; he knows well enough where the Armed Archaeologists’ workstations are and the layout of the area. There can’t be that dire a need for assistants - or perhaps the hiring standards have lowered significantly since he last visited.
“Sorry, sorry!” the assistant says, at least managing to sound somewhat sincere. The young man has to jog to catch up to Ratio’s long strides and keep pace as he fiddles with his tablet. He pushes his oversized glasses up with one hand before speaking again, finally getting the message and discussing something relevant.
“Ahem. As stated in the missive, the Armed Archaeologists request your urgent consultation in regards to preparing for the expedition to the Mechanical Emperor Tomb. To that end, and in consideration of your ongoing work with the IPC on Penacony, we will begin promptly at 0800 system time tomorrow morning in the main laboratory.”
So the assistant can get to the point. Ratio glances at him out of the corner of his eyes and turns his still-covered head slightly to convey that he is listening, but doesn’t say anything further as he continues to walk through the halls.
“The agenda and topics for discussion have been kept as brief as possible, and all relevant files are waiting for you in the temporary lodgings that … we …” The assistant trails off as he realizes Ratio has already led them both to the residential wing of the building, typically utilized by researchers doing time-sensitive or otherwise demanding work or by Archaeologists before and after expeditions.
Ratio stops at the juncture of two hallways, stepping aside so the assistant doesn’t run into him, then looks at him expectantly. “Well?”
“... You've been assigned room 0143, to the left, Doctor,” the assistant says, sounding deflated as he holds out a keycard on a lanyard.
“That will be all,” Ratio says as he takes the keycard. The assistant nods and begins to turn around when Ratio has another thought and speaks up again. “Wait. Knowing that I am occupied with the situation on Penacony, for what reason did the Armed Archaeologists request me, specifically?”
The assistant glances back over his shoulder, looking excited and eager all over again. Perhaps asking was a mistake. Before Ratio has the chance to fully consider retracting his inquiry and leaving, the assistant answers his question: “I heard it was due to your expertise in biology, medicine, engineering, and natural theology combined. But it was Mr. Screwllum who had the final say, of course - and he asked for you by name.”
-—-
It takes very little time for Ratio to realize that he’s been called back to consult on one specific aspect of the expedition preparation. As promised, the files provided to him are neatly organized and concisely written, or at least as concisely as the Armed Archaeologists could ostensibly manage, but he has the distinct feeling that most of it is from a template.
What has clearly been done manually, however, is the section requesting his input on the weapons and provisions the Archaeologists intend to bring with them. The typical assortment of overzealous requests for explosives and otherwise risky weapons are marked down, but it’s the red-stamped page regarding the request to bring a “portable developmental living offensive asset” that catches Ratio’s attention. While the page itself delicately talks around what the “asset” is, the Intelligentsia Guild’s internal safety and compliance review has left a lengthy addition:
REQUEST DENIED. Attempts to invoke a state of “Parasitization” in the manner of Genius Society member Herta’s Curio is not approved, regardless of any potential offensive capabilities. You may resubmit your expedition approval and provision requisition once the request for the “Portable Insect Web Prototype” is removed OR upon concurrence from a senior employee outside of the Armed Archaeologists with clearance and credentials of the following or above: A) Degrees or proven expertise in two or more of section 1 or a combination of three or more from section 2, as well as at least one of section 3: [Section 1: i) …
That certainly explains why Ratio was chosen. Perhaps the internal review did not believe the Armed Archaeologists could find one of the few people who met the long list of requirements or, if they did, that the chosen individual wouldn’t answer their request for review or approve it. Luckily for them, Ratio has already fulfilled the first two conditions. As for the third -
There is a knock at Ratio’s door.
When Ratio looked at the security monitor, he should not have been surprised to see Screwllum standing there, hands clasped behind his back, posture relaxed and casual as if this is a normal occurrence. With an almost resigned sigh, Ratio removes his plaster bust, then walks to the door and presses the panel to let it slide open.
Screwllum looks just the same as ever, and his eyes flicker softly as he greets Ratio. “Mr. Ratio.”
“Mr. Screwllum.” Ratio holds Screwllum’s gaze for a few moments, weighing his options, before settling on: “If this is related to the expedition preparation, I will arrive at the laboratory at the scheduled time tomorrow.”
“It is not,” Screwllum says lightly. Still relaxed and casual. “I have an inquiry of a personal nature.”
Then this is the third time that Screwllum has done this - shown up at his doorstep for something personal when they should both be working.
Ratio bites back a sigh, instead narrowing his eyes and refusing to move from his doorway. His hand remains on the panel, though he doesn’t immediately allow Screwllum entrance.
“Once is happenstance, twice is the beginning of a pattern,” Ratio says instead of stepping aside and letting Screwllum into his room. His eyes roam over the way Screwllum stands just as composed and dignified as ever, waiting patiently for Ratio to finish his thought. He’s always doing that, it seems - waiting patiently for Ratio. The thought makes something twist in his stomach. “Thrice is a habit.”
“Question: Is it disagreeable to you?” There is something close to a laugh in Screwllum’s voice.
No, Ratio supposes. No, it is not.
“And I recall that the saying is: ‘Once is an accident, twice is a coincidence, and thrice is a pattern.’ Your version is rather less lenient,” Screwllum says, and his eyes flicker in the distinct beat they do when he’s amused.
“To a layperson, the original saying might be applicable,” Ratio acquiesces, holding Screwllum’s gaze. “To you, however, I very much doubt something as inane as coincidence is a factor in … this.”
“Then perhaps you are correct, and I am making a habit of visiting you,” Screwllum says smoothly. As if that weren’t a borderline confession of - well. Surely there's no deeper meaning. Ratio pushes the thought aside and just stares at him. “May I enter?”
After a beat of silence, Ratio simply takes his hand off the panel and turns around, walking back to where he had spread out the Armed Archaeologists’ files across the single desk. Screwllum follows him in and politely presses the panel to close the door behind him.
“What is it you need, then?” Ratio asks, glancing over the files and setting the red-stamped request aside. He’ll need to review it in greater detail later; even a cursory glance was enough for him to have misgivings about it.
Screwllum waits until Ratio has set the red-stamped request down, only speaking once Ratio does not move to pick up any of the other files. “I have heard some singularly intriguing rumors regarding your time on Penacony.”
Ratio fights a groan and settles for an annoyed exhale, turning back around to look at Screwllum. He stands just inside the door, watching Ratio. “You and everyone else; but rumormongering doesn’t strike me as a pastime of yours.”
“It is not, typically. However, it’s a different story if I am involved.”
Ratio stiffens minutely. His change in posture would be practically imperceptible to anyone else, but from the way Screwllum’s eyes flicker, he’s sure he noticed. Instead of backing down or playing at being coy, Ratio keeps his eyes locked on Screwllum. No use in denying the truth. “What of it?”
Screwllum laughs quietly. “Unlike ‘everyone else,’ I have the distinct advantage of being privy to a more complete account of events,” he says. Though he remains still, Ratio gets the feeling that Screwllum is pinning him down with his stare. For once, the blue light is solid. Unblinking.
“Tell me, Ratio,” Screwllum says after a moment. He takes a single step forward into the room, closer to Ratio, as if to punctuate his next question. “What should I make of the fact that your ‘sweet dream’ involved me abandoning the Simulated Universe to work with you?”
And the Intelligentsia Guild, Ratio wants to retort, but he knows the futility of arguing semantics with Screwllum. All it would serve to do is give him more ammunition to tease Ratio with.
But neither does Ratio have an answer ready; his mouth is dry and the seconds are ticking by. Screwllum says nothing, waiting patiently as ever for a response.
Once Ratio has found his voice again, he clicks his tongue in annoyance and answers with a question of his own. He keeps his voice as calm and level as he can, even though he is more than aware that he is deflecting. “Has the Trailblazer nothing better to do than engage in idle gossip?”
“Impressive deduction,” Screwllum says, tacitly confirming Ratio’s suspicion, “but you are avoiding the question.”
It’s not all that impressive; it isn’t a difficult conclusion to draw. Topaz is busy and Ratio barely knows the other members of the Astral Express. Aventurine may tease Ratio about it, but he would never reveal so personal a detail to a third party without Ratio’s explicit permission. Not a detail like this - a possible vulnerability. Not when doing so would take away Ratio’s agency to decide whether or not to act on the information. The Trailblazer, however, wears their well-intentioned if indelicate heart on their sleeve. They truly do not think before they speak, at times.
“Make of it what you will,” Ratio says finally. “I suppose our mutual acquaintance also told you that, in the dream, the IPC relinquished all claims to Penacony and offered The Family unconditional support. I suppose you also know that the General of the Luofu personally interceded on the Astral Express’ behalf.” Ratio keeps his voice steady and his expression neutral, as if he is simply reading off scientific facts. “The Order’s dream was a mere fabrication of an idyllic future.”
Screwllum’s response is near immediate. “‘Idyllic,’ was it?”
Ratio knows he’s misspoken as soon as the word leaves his mouth.
But Screwllum presses on instead of lingering on the question. “That aligns with what I have heard - that the Order’s dream was meant to trap the individuals within using some aspect of their conscious or subconscious desires. Desires that would leave them fulfilled, but aren’t so immediately unrealistic that it would break their immersion.” Screwllum, too, speaks as if he is simply reciting the results of a study. Ratio thinks he can detect a hint of amusement in Screwllum’s voice, though, despite his tone remaining as even as ever. “So tell me - you saw this dream and still decided to return to the Intelligentsia Guild when you knew I would be here. Did you expect to not speak of it?”
“Yes, actually - I had assumed we would do our respective work regardless of what happened, which normally you would not have even been aware of.” Ratio does not stop there, though; he doesn’t give Screwllum an opportunity to speak before continuing. “And speaking of, I hear that you were the one to request me by name. I should be asking the same; what should I make of it, Screwllum?”
Ratio crosses his arms, well aware that his tone and posture is defensive. He mirrors Screwllum’s earlier movement and takes a step forward, as if in refusal to appear affected. Screwllum simply tracks Ratio’s movement as the distance between them closes. “You are the one with influence enough to call me back here despite the near rebirth of an Aeon on Penacony,” he says. “Does it please you, Mr. Screwllum, to have me at your beck and call? It must be the privilege of the so-called elite.”
“Rebuttal: You don’t mean that,” Screwllum says, so mildly that it causes Ratio to pause and blink in surprise, derailing the line of thought he was pursuing. “Or, rather, you are choosing to focus on facts only tangentially related to the situation at hand. If you could not spare the time, you would have refused. I need not be even a close acquaintance to know that there is little that could truly force you to act against your will and, considering the situation on Penacony, no one would find fault with your decision if you did refuse.”
Ratio bites back a retort, scowling. Perhaps he really should have refused, in that case, if he knew he was going to be walking into such an aggravating interrogation. But what did he think he was going to be walking into? A situation full of annoyances at the very least - it’s not like he particularly gets along with the Armed Archaeologists - and … and what?
When Ratio does not immediately respond, Screwllum takes it as an invitation to continue. His tone remains mild, and he gestures to Ratio with one hand. The movement is slow. Elegant, even. “My position means that my requests are given greater weight, this is true - but I find myself unrepentant for leveraging this fact for my own benefit.”
And Screwllum. Ratio hadn’t thought much of it when he accepted the request, but upon self-reflection, it’s patently obvious that the only reason why he would respond positively to the Armed Archaeologists would have been because of Screwllum. But purely out of scientific and academic respect. Curiosity, perhaps.
“... You’re saying that you wanted to see me,” Ratio says, finally. It’s not that he didn’t piece it together earlier - the mere act of signing the request for his consultation and selecting him by name made the sentiment blatantly apparent - but it’s another thing to hear it so plainly given a personal context instead of a professional one.
“Affirmative. Have I not made my intentions clear enough?”
Ratio closes his eyes for a moment, exhaling slowly, before speaking. He chooses his words carefully, drawing from what he knows of the situation, from their past interactions, from his own calculated caution. “You’ve made them plenty clear, Screwllum. But using your work as an excuse just to instigate another physical encounter with me is neither an appropriate use of resources nor particularly logical.”
And in fact, Ratio can’t decide whether to be flattered or insulted. The insinuation that Screwllum has gone through so much trouble to get them in the same room is ego-stoking, but the thought that Ratio will come when called like a pet dog leaves a bad taste in his mouth.
Screwllum shakes his head slightly, then speaks again, his voice calm and deliberate as if to ensure that Ratio hears each of his words. “You have misunderstood my intent. As enjoyable as I find intercourse with you, there is another reason for my visit.” He pauses briefly, eyes flickering as if confirming that Ratio is paying attention, before continuing. It’s an illogical thought, though. When has Ratio not given Screwllum his due focus? “From your reaction, it appears that a purely physical relationship is preferable to you.”
Ratio opens his mouth to retort - with what, he isn’t entirely sure, as he’s torn somewhere between rebutting and affirming the speculation - but Screwllum gestures for him to wait.
“The Trailblazer’s account, however, provides evidence to the contrary. Hypothesis: While you refrain from, or perhaps have difficulty with expressing it, you appear to hold me in as high a regard as I do you.” Once again, Screwllum’s eyes stop flickering and are solid, unblinking, as if to impress upon Ratio the weight of what he’s saying. There’s a change to the texture of his synthetic voice; something similar to tension, if Ratio had to give it a name. “Or am I mistaken?”
How direct - a sentence that’s all but a confession and an analysis combined. Ratio sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose and averting his gaze, as if his hand were enough to hide his embarrassment. That’s it, then. He knows when the game is up, and there’s no use in continuing to avoid the heart of the subject that Ratio had refused to address previously at the Reverie.
“No … You are not mistaken,” Ratio admits slowly. He speaks carefully, once again making sure to give proper thought to the words he chooses. “Given the quantity of external variables involved in a potential … entanglement, however, I am certain you understand my reticence.”
Screwllum stares at Ratio, as if trying to decide if he will call Ratio out for not saying the entirety of what’s on his mind. They both know that Ratio is oversimplifying matters - that internal variables are the true obstacle. In the end, however, Screwllum lets it go and replies to his words directly. “I can follow your logic. But none of those ‘variables’ are insurmountable, are they? Perhaps there have never been two individuals in our specific, respective positions, but there have certainly been analogous successes.”
For a long moment, Screwllum lets his words linger in the air. Ratio swallows, and even to him the sound is too loud. Just when he is about to ask if Screwllum has anything else to add, if only to fill the silence, Screwllum speaks again. “Would you consider it, then, Ratio? As you put it, an ‘entanglement’?”
Ratio averts his eyes again, briefly, then looks back at Screwllum and lowers his hand, pride stopping him from continuing to hide behind it even though he feels heat rise to his face. His heart thuds loud in his chest, loud enough that he’s sure Screwllum picks up on. It’s just a physiological response to tension. Nothing more. “I … will think on it.”
“Then that is all I can ask.” Despite Ratio’s lukewarm reply, Screwllum sounds satisfied. Screwllum didn’t seem particularly tense before, and his posture was as it ever is, but in that same moment Ratio gets the impression Screwllum relaxes marginally. Interesting. “Until tomorrow, Ratio.”
Ratio watches Screwllum incline his head and turn to the door. The air feels warm - almost charged, somehow - in the brief silence. “Tomorrow, then,” Ratio manages.
As Screwllum presses the panel to open the door, he pauses and turns slightly to look back at Ratio over his shoulder.
“And to answer your question: yes.” Ratio begins to retort, but Screwllum continues speaking without giving him a chance to interject. He merely turns to look at Ratio straight on, and despite the fact that there is no change in his posture or tone of voice, Ratio gets the impression that Screwllum is speaking sincerely. There’s a weight to his words. “I called for you and you responded, traveling from a distant planet to be here with me. How could I not be pleased?”
And for the third time, Screwllum exits Ratio’s room, leaving him to stare at the closing door and fight a flush rising to his face.