052. Fire.
Riff sighs. Without looking at him, Cain shushes him with a flapping motion, continuing to stare intently at the candle flame, watching it flicker. He then dips a spoon into white powder, heating it up. It takes a few seconds, and the white becomes liquid, bubbling slightly. It looks completely harmless, and Cain grins as the liquid begins to congeal around the spoon, turning a charred black. He steals a look at Riff, who looks absolutely scandalised.
"Please," Riff begins, with a pleading note that is beginning to creep into his voice, "would you stop using the silverware for your hobby…?" He trails off, wondering if his pleas will do any good – he already knows that the scullery maid is drafting her resignation letter.
"Experiments," Cain corrects, and he waves the spoon for emphasis. "I need the silver to activate the poison."
Riff does not respond, knowing that his master is telling an outright fib. He wants to say something about being a medic student, or how science isn't a completely new concept to him – but he sees the flash of amusement in Cain's eyes and he knows that in his own unique way, Cain is joking with him.
"Then it's a good thing that the Hargreaves poison is stored in a silver ring, isn't it?"
Cain smirks, his lips quirking upwards.
"Precisely," He mutters.
end