After a week, the stitched-up injuries across Stein's face have healed enough that Marie can look at them without cringing. She still can't stand the sound of the screw turning, which Stein has started to do absently every few minutes; the grind of metal-on-metal brings up far too many questions about what exactly he did to himself, and she doesn't want to ask them because she is afraid she will get an answer.

The constant, not-quite-regular sound of Stein's new...accessory is the only thing that is really difficult to live with. In that regard, things could be much worse (Marie tells herself). The dim lighting of the laboratory is frustrating and disorienting, but Stein doesn't put up any kind of a fight when she adds a pair of lamps to the living room, nor does he protest when she expands her lighting crusade out to the hallways and shared spaces of the rest of the building. A rug and her own furniture with the dust of disuse carefully cleaned before it was delivered go a long way to counteract the industrial feeling of her own room, and although the kitchen is very nearly empty when she moves in, at least Stein never leaves a mess from cooking himself.

The meister himself is better than her first day frightened her into worrying. He is distant and absent much of the time: he does not volunteer information about himself, he does not ask her for information about herself, and she barely sees him if she doesn't go actively looking for him. Her original fantasies of bonding as partners and her flustered daydreams of blossoming romance are so far gone as to be laughable in retrospect, but after her first introduction to the reality of being Stein's partner Marie knows intimately that it could be much, much worse, and a rational and uninjured meister seems like the height of luxury in comparison.

There is also the satisfaction, the comfort, of having a partner again. Stein may be distant, he may hardly speak to her, his inner life may be almost a complete mystery, but he is a person just quietly existing around her, and even though they have not Resonated and haven't even tried to partner yet the title of "meister" settles into him like a second skin and Marie can't shake the pleasure of that, even if its actual effects are intangible or non-existent at present.

There is always one thing she can talk to him about. So far she has seen him every day, at least once, and every time he stalls for more or less time before asking about Spirit. The first day he wouldn't look at her, could barely say Spirit's name much less form the question he wanted. By the end of the week, when he comes out of his room and finds her drinking tea at the kitchen counter, she knows what he will ask before he even says it.

"How is Spirit?" He doesn't need to specify, a pronoun would be enough, but the question is carefully precise and the tone is carefully devoid of emotion and both scream the intensity of his concern, and Marie suspects that speaking the syllables of the weapon's name is a comfort itself.

Unlike the preceding days, Marie has actual news today, and the pleasure of her temporary secret is fizzing through her in delightful anticipation. She draws it out, taking a long sip of the liquid in front of her and carefully swallowing before turning to Stein with entirely feigned calm. It would be nice if he reacted to this little show a bit more; instead he is standing where he always does, within range of her voice but well out of physical reach so even accidental contact is prevented. The light from the kitchen ceiling is catching off his glasses so Marie can't see his expression and the rest of his face is set into perfect stillness, like the practiced relaxation of his body.

Confronted with this brittle self-control there is a very brief flare of irritation that makes Marie want to be contrary, to tease Stein with the knowledge she has and draw out some sort, any sort of a reaction. She feels bad almost as soon as the idea appears, and in a sort of penance she drops her facade of cool immediately and lets herself smile in relief.

"He woke up today."

Stein's shoulders tighten. Her smile should be enough promise of optimism to calm him but his body tenses in anticipation of the details. Although she still can't see his eyes Marie keeps talking, faster now, spilling out the details as rapidly as she can while maintaining coherency.

"He's fine, or at least he seems to be fine. Bruised and battered and -" She would edit out the next piece of information if she had thought of it in time, but the phrasing the nurse used is on the tip of her tongue and pours out without any time for editing. "- Depressed, but physically he'll be alright with time to heal. Kami's been assigned as his new partner; they should be able to go out on their first assignment together as soon as Spirit's recovered a bit more."

Stein's chin tips so he is looking straight up and Marie can't see his face at all. The fear in his shoulders fades, his hand comes up to his uplifted face, and even at her careful distance Marie can hear Stein sigh. It is something of hurt and something of gratitude and something of resignation, and she no longer wants to see behind the wall of his glasses to his eyes.

After a moment he brings his head down, and when he looks up the reflection off his glasses is gone. His expression is calmer than she expected, although the ugly tracery of stitches outlining his left eye does add a certain level of the macabre to the pained relief in the lines of his face. The emotion in his expression is terrifyingly human, normal in a way that is itself uncanny on his reconstructed face.

"Thank you." Marie clings to the monotone like a lifeline; everything else about this moment is surreal enough that she thinks she might be dreaming.

Stein reaches up to his screw and turns it. The motion is perfectly judged, quick and clean, just enough to get the sharp click of machinery settling into place before he takes his hand away.

"I'll request an assignment for us from Lord Death."

The utter lack of segue leaves Marie feeling off-balance as the conversation turns without her. Luckily Stein isn't waiting for a response from her, just carrying on with his new topic.

"We should get experience working as a team, move forward with making you into a death weapon. I don't think you were very far along, were you?"

"Uh. No." Stein is so business-like that Marie answers before she can mentally poke at the half-healed hurt of Roger, and then he is talking over her again.

"Good. We'll be starting from the basics then, it will give us time to get used to working together. Are you up for an assignment right away?"

Marie is gaping at him; she can't close her mouth, can't clear the surprise from her face, and the words that tumble out of her are as uncontrolled as her expression. "Are you?"

Stein smiles. It is very fast, just a flicker of amusement across his face, and it pulls the pattern across his skin in a movement that Marie imagines must be painful, but she has never seen pleasure reach his eyes before and that makes even the wounds in his skin strangely beautiful. She chokes on a breath and as she blinks her memory locks down the impression of that smile so she can remember it, so she can tell herself that her new meister does have feelings, does express himself sometimes. Even the proof that his display of pleasure during their original conversations was a facade doesn't diminish the delight of her current revelation.

"I am." He finally answers, and that is all Marie can think of to say. When he leaves, she can't muster the words or the coherency to try to stop him, to demand what just happened, to beg for further explanation, so she just stays where she is and stares after him while her tea goes cold.