Cain had never been fond of his hands. They were short and stubby, and in his opinion, generally unattractive.
"I like them," DG had said, turning the tin man hands over in her own, "They're strong. Working man's hands."
Not like Glitch's. Glitch had long, slender fingers, almost feminine. He found himself studying Glitch's hands as the headcase tinkered in his old laboratory, fixing this and dismantling that. He had a sneaking suspicion that before they'd taken the man's brain out, Glitch had played piano. He'd asked, once, and the adviser had shrugged, saying maybe, but he didn't remember.
"Why do you ask?"
"Your hands." The tin man replied, waving his own in a vague gesture. "They look like piano players hands. Long and thin."
Glitch frowned a little, putting down whatever it was he was working on and wandering over to Cain, taking up one hand in his own.
"I suppose they do. But I like your hands, Cain," He said, as if reading the blonde's mind, and linked their fingers together. Cain took a moment to study their linked hands before looking back at Glitch. "They make me feel… safe." He continued, catching Cain's gaze and smiling. "I wouldn't want anyone else pulling me out of the rubble if I blow up the lab, let me tell you."
Cain allowed himself a small smile, pushing away from the wall on which he was leant. "C'mon, sweetheart, let's go eat. DG'll kill me if I let you stay cooped up in here all day."
The inventor made a small noise of assent, and allowed the tin man to lead him out into the corridor, towards the dining hall, both completely unaware of their still-linked hands.
