"Hey."

Dustrielle nearly leaped out of his skin at the whispered word.

Under most circumstances, it wouldn't have been shocking for someone to pop into the lab for a quick word in the middle of the workday. But after Uka Uka's visit, Cortex had given detailed marching orders to the team, and he had made it crystal clear that he expected no less than perfect results in very little time. He had even canceled the daily huddle, indefinitely. That, in particular, had signaled a shift in Cortex's demeanor to Dustrielle, because he'd assumed that the huddle had to be the highlight of Cortex's day. After all, it was the easiest and most consistent way for Cortex to take center stage..

Resulting from this new environment, for the past seven weeks, each scientist had practically barricaded himself into his lab, and hadn't spoken to the others. All Dustrielle could do was thank his lucky stars that his orders had been easy: to just synthesize as much of the catalyst as he could.

Gin and Tropy?

They needed to work out how to get into the Elementals' dimension.

Despite Tropy's objections that his travels rarely exited their universal fabric and Gin's insistence that even if the journey was possible, such a machine would be unfeasible to create within the confines of his lab, Cortex had set his brow and told them he didn't give a rat's ass. Gin had left that meeting trembling from tip to toe, and Tropy's face had looked as though he was thinking about everything and nothing all at once. The one time that Dustrielle had passed them in the hallway since that huddle, they hadn't even acknowledged his presence. Instead, their eyes were locked on each other, engaged in a heated debate over the particulars of the mechanics they were testing out. Each looked notably disheveled, with deep bags under their eyes, and a waver in their voices.

But after Dustrielle calmed himself down, he turned to see that Tropy looked notably less stressed than the last time Dustrielle had passed him. He was leaning up against a cabinet. His hat and armor were off, and his lab coat was on full display. Dustrielle wondered if it was the first time that he had seen the coat, not covered by Tropy's armor.

He sighed, rubbing his temples, glaring at Tropy. "Couldn't have knocked?"

Tropy smirked. "Too much effort for someone of my caliber."

Dustrielle fought to keep himself from smiling. It really was all he could do, mostly because he was too tired to think of a smarmy comeback at the moment.

"Fine. What's up?"

Tropy took a few steps towards Dustrielle, eyeing the containers he recently had filled with the latest batch of catalyst.

"Good work you've done, there…" Tropy muttered, almost absently, rolling his prosthetic fist around in his other hand.

Dustrielle squinted. "Is there any particular reason you've dropped by to - ?"

"We cracked it."

Dustrielle's eyes went wide. "What? You really - ?"

"Believe me, we are as shocked as you are. But, to a very reasonable degree of certainty, we believe we now have access to the Elementals' dimension on demand. And we released a lab rat in there and got it back with no damage. We think, at least, Brio is going to check it out, to be sure."

Dustrielle whistled through his teeth and swallowed. "Forgive me, I didn't think - "

"We could do it? Trust me, Gin and I were in agreement on that -"

"Let me finish a fucking sentence, will you?"

Tropy sighed. "Apologies. I haven't spoken to anyone besides Gin. He's a fine enough conversationalist, but this effort has starved me for variety. In both voice and topic."

"And Cortex? How did he react?"

Tropy's eyes darted to the door and back to Dustrielle. "You can keep a secret, yes?"

Dustrielle brought his hand to his face, almost reflexively, rubbing his cheek, trying desperately to quell the tension building in his stomach, wondering what Tropy was about to say. His hand met the beard hairs that had grown in the last three weeks. He'd managed to hold up a degree of neatness over the first couple of weeks of isolation, but the last few had left him in a near constant state of disheveled half-disorientation, not much else on his mind outside of his work and eating and sleeping.

"What's the secret, then?"

Tropy sighed. "Cortex doesn't know about this yet. Gin, Brio and I are keeping our mouths shut until the day after tomorrow. I think there's a good chance that Cortex will want to nab the Elementals the second he knows that we can go to their realm. So I'm taking a page from Gin's book and keeping Cortex away from that information a little while longer. But I was wondering…"

He trailed off, averting his eyes.

"Were you, perhaps, interested in having a bit of a celebration with me and the others before we tell Cortex?"

Dustrielle raised an eyebrow. "Uh, you mean starting the after work hangout again? Sure, I've missed it."

Tropy shook his head, bringing his eyes back to Dustrielle's. They were shining mischievously as his face spread into the widest grin Dustrielle had ever seen on him.

"Oh, no, I was thinking something a bit more special than that. Not that I begrudge those gatherings, but for something this momentous, I believe that the least we could do is leave the castle for something besides supplies."

Dustrielle tilted his head, smiling. "Oh? And what? Play hopscotch?"

Tropy chuckled. "Please. We're going to visit the Elementals, go to an entirely different plane of existence sometime soon. Might be the last day of our lives. We need something a bit more grand for the occasion."

He laughed, but Dustrielle thought it seemed a bit… forced. The sound of it made his stomach churn slightly.

Tropy straightened back up. "Now we can't exactly go somewhere public or crowded. We're a bit… how might you say… conspicuous? But I've been to enough places and enough times that I think I know the best place for the four of us to enjoy ourselves for the night."

"Are you going to tell me where it is? Or when it is?"

Tropy shook his head. "Spoilers. Besides, it'll be fun watching the anticipation on your faces."

Dustrielle rolled his eyes, putting on a shrill, comical exaggeration of Tropy's voice. "I'm Tropy, and I know something you don't know!"

Tropy smirked. "As uncultured as ever. Glad to see you haven't been body snatched since we last spoke. But, anyway, tonight. 8. Are you in?"

"Are the others?"

"All RSVPed yes. Verbally, of course. Don't expect an engraved invitation."

"Count me in. And the dress code, Tropy?" He barely got the second sentence out with a straight face.

Tropy snickered. "I don't care what you wear. But I will require you to shave that miserable bit of facial hair. It's patchy and doesn't work on you."

"You're one to talk, handlebar beard."

Trophy laughed, the smirk softening to a smile. "Glad to hear you'll be there. And not a word to Cortex on any of this, heard?"

"Aye Aye Captain."

Tropy nodded, and in a flash of blue light, vanished from the room.

Dustrielle rolled his eyes, unable to suppress a smile, and lightly pumped his fist at this major victory. He stretched and peeled his lab glove off of his hand. Idly, he stretched it between two of the fingers on his prosthetic, pulling it back like a slingshot, and launching it into the sink.

Fuck it. I'm calling it a day.

Dustrielle pushed open the lab door and strode down the hall, thinking of nothing outside of crashing in his bed for as long as he could. Checking his watch, he figured that he could probably get a couple of hours of sleep. He set an alarm for 6 PM on the watch as he slammed his bedroom door behind him. Kicking off his boots, he shed off all his clothes, save for his boxer briefs, like a snake would shed a long overdue skin.

As he folded his glasses onto the nightstand, he caught a glance of himself in the mirror. The skin on the burned side of his face looked much more healed and healthy, though still discolored pinkish purple. Probably permanent at this point. This was, however, the first time he noticed the dozen or so speckles of burn on his neck and the upper part of his chest. Each fleck was no more than a half centimeter in diameter, but they decorated his left side like constellations in the sky.

It had been the first time in weeks he'd really gotten a look at himself in the mirror, but he still barely acknowledged it. Instead, he clambered into his bed, and pulled the covers over himself, slowly blinking his eyes shut, just trying to get completely comforta-

The next time he opened his eyes, it was to the sound of his watch blaring its alarm.

Shit, how quick did I conk out?

Dustrielle shook his head awake and groaned. At least he wouldn't pass out in the middle of the celebration. Probably.

He stumbled over to his bathroom and peeled his eyes open in front of the mirror, checking his face again. Running his hands along his chin, he very briefly considered not shaving the beard. Just to spite Tropy. Nothing more and no less.

Ultimately, however, his vanity won out, and he opened the bathroom cabinet to grab his razor -

Knock Knock

Dustrielle squinted, wondering who the hell was there. He hoped beyond hope it wasn't Cortex catching him slacking off.

He pulled on the robe that he kept on the back of his bathroom door, tying it tight, and walking over to his door.

Creak

Dustrielle opened the door the tiniest crack, and seeing Gin and Brio there, he opened it a hair more. But then he yelped and closed it nearly entirely, remembering he was only wearing his boxer briefs and his robe.

"Uh, are you two okay? Did Cortex die or something?"

Gin grinned, shaking his head. "Nope! We figured, you know, it might be a bit more fun if we… eh… got ready together. Perhaps 'pregamed' is a more accurate term?"

Dustrielle raised an eyebrow. Getting ready for a night out in the same space was something he only associated with young women. Not that it was a bad thing, it just seemed odd to him that the two middle-aged madmen were so eager to do that.

Still…

He leaned in slightly, desperate for their company. "I'm fine with it, but I am currently not fully dressed."

Brio shrugged. "I couldn't c-c-care less. I'll eat my brownies and turn the other… other… way. Gin?"

Gin squinted. "Are you okay with us there?"

Dustrielle eyed the two of them, thinking it over, and sighing. "Fine. But once I start putting actual clothes on, close your eyes until I say. Got it?"

Both men nodded, and Dustrielle opened the door wide enough to let them in.

He led Brio and Gin inside, leaning against his wall to give them room to settle in. Both of them were dressed far differently than Dustrielle had ever seen them. Even without taking into account their lab coats, both of them always dressed very plainly, rarely anything other than t-shirts and jeans.

Brio, however, looked as though he was taking the opportunity to be his fanciest: white collared shirt, red bow tie, tweed pants, and a green jacket tucked over his arm. Dustrielle half wondered if this was what Brio wore when he had been a bartender. Back when dinosaurs roamed the Earth.

He nodded at Dustrielle. "You're more dressed than I h-h-had expected. I d-don't know why you were so nervous. I thought you were naked, the way you were…were…h-hiding."

Dustrielle exhaled deeply, grinning, as Brio grabbed a hanger that was strewn on the ground and hung his jacket on one of the hooks in the wall.

"Mind if I eat a brownie?"

Dustrielle shrugged. "Go nuts, dude."

Brio shook his head. "No nuts. I hate when b-b-brownies have nuts." He grinned slightly and settled himself down into Dustrielle's desk chair.

When Dustrielle looked back at Gin, he blinked a few times, struck from with the… wildness of Gin's look. Red plaid pants, black tank top, with some band logo Dustrielle didn't know, and chunky combat boots. Even more interesting than that was that Gin was holding a box with a bunch of tubes inside, though Dustrielle couldn't quite make out what they were.

Gin seemed to notice Dustrielle analyzing him, and a light flow of steam escaped from the rocket, his face going red.

"I… sorry, if this is distracting. Well, I just… I haven't dressed like this in a long time. Never had the occasion. But I've missed it, terribly."

Dustrielle realized he was staring and turned slightly away.

"Ah, yeah, looks fun. I totally get it. Not my thing, but it's really cool."

He tapped his toe on the ground and gestured to his bathroom.

"I need to shave. Anyone else need the mirror?"

"Mrrrrph"

Dustrielle squinted and looked over at Brio, whose feet were resting on Dustrielle's desk and his mouth full of brownie. He was, however, shaking his head.

Gin had opened the box he had brought, bringing out a liquid eyeliner pen. "I'll use a mirror, but honestly…" He held up his gauntlet. "I usually use this to check myself out."

Dustrielle grinned. "Love that, nice."

He nodded and walked into his bathroom, keeping the door open, as he took out his shaving gel, rubbing it on his face.

"Y'all are going to put me to shame. I swear, I was just going to wear a damn turtleneck."

"Turtlenecks are n-n-nice."

Dustrielle smiled, the expression quickly morphing into a grimace as the sting of the gel hit the skin on the left side of his face. Still a bit sensitive.

"Appreciate it, man. Maybe I should just wear the lab coat with it, for the joke."

"B-b-better yet, only wear the coat."

Gin had been lifting the eyeliner pen to the corner of his eye, focusing on the reflection in his gauntlet. But as Gin started cackling at what Brio said, Dustrielle caught in his mirror that Gin's eyeliner went a bit wonky.

"Damn it." Gin muttered, looking closer into the reflection, as if assessing damage. He shrugged, seemingly accepting it, and capped the pen.

Dustrielle took out his straight razor and started to drag it up his face, taking off the first substantial facial hair he'd ever grown in his life. As much as he hated to say that Tropy was right, a beard wasn't something that could come in fully for him. Though he'd known that for years, it wasn't exactly a surprise.

"You two have any idea what the plans are tonight? Or am I the only one that Tropy likes to leave in the dark?"

Brio whistled softly. "Enjoying the view of wherever we go, and get real fucked up, if it's anything like the last major celebration we had."

Dustrielle chuckled, feeling the strip of skin that he'd just shaved, satisfied with the smoothness. "Well then, I'm excited. Just a work hangout with a chance of pace, huh?"

Gin sighed. "I'd love to go somewhere else, but I'd rather not get stared at. Or arrested."

Dustrielle grinned. "I know, I know, I'm kidding."

He started to work around his mustache area, glancing up to eye Gin's distant reflection. Gin had pulled out a bottle of black nail polish, and looking between his regular hand and his prosthetic. He frowned, and Dustrielle could see the gears turning in his head. Gin sighed, and put down the bottle of nail polish, muttering something that Dustrielle couldn't hear, before pulling out a roll of electrical tape from the box. He pulled out a strip, tore it off, and stuck it on top of one of the fingers of the prosthetic.

Dustrielle smiled, not able to help himself, as he watched Gin repeat the process with the other prosthetic fingers. "Very DIY, Gin, spirit of punk, right? Nice."

Gin's eyes went wide as he jolted, clearly not expecting Dustrielle to have seen that. But he quickly relaxed.

"Yes, very much so. Didn't want to risk any permanent staining from the polish. Improvise where you can, I suppose." He sighed, looking at the nail polish.

"I don't think I was ever much of a looker or anything, but the one thing… aesthetically…. I miss about myself before the accident is that it was so much easier to go out and have fun. And I see no reason to get all fussed up if I'm not going anywhere. But…"

He sighed as he caught his reflection in his gauntlet again. "I've missed this look. Maybe I'll do this for fun, again, sometime."

Dustrielle washed the last bit of shaving gel off of his face and dried it off with the shower curtain, sniffing and spitting into the sink before walking back out to the bedroom. Brio was fiddling with his wrist, looking more relaxed than Dustrielle had ever seen him. Gin was still looking at the closed bottle of nail polish with furrowed brows.

Dustrielle put two and two together.

"Prosthetic isn't great for delicate work?"

Gin sighed. "Depends. But for something like my nails? Don't think it's going to go well without just coating all my fingers in the stuff and praying."

Dustrielle looked down at Gin's hand and tilted his head.

"I can't promise that it'd be any better than pouring it out and praying, but want me to take a stab at it?"

Gin squinted his eye. "You want to do that?"

Dustrielle shrugged. "Eh, why not?"

Gin shrugged back. "Alright then." He looked around Dustrielle's room. "Where do you-?"

Brio exhaled and stood up, stretching, grinning. "P-p-probably easiest on a flat surface. Not to fffffear, I'll just lie down in Dustrielle's bed."

Dustrielle feigned offense. "Brio, you couldn't even ask first?"

Brio rolled his eyes, getting to his feet, grinning. "You'll let me d-do it. I c-can get away with a l-lot with you."

Dustrielle chuckled. "Go on, old man."

Brio gave Dustrielle the middle finger and sat down on Dustrielle's bed, gingerly lying himself down and looking up at the ceiling.

"How much shall I bet that th-this won't go well?"

Gin sat down in Dustrielle's desk chair and set his hand down flat on the desk. Dustrielle got down on one knee to keep himself steady without needing to bend over.

"You don't have money to bet."

In all seriousness, Dustrielle was looking at Gin's nail polish and trying to remember any scenes he'd seen in movies of people painting nails, a bead of sweat rolling down his face.

Gin looked at him and gave a slightly wobbly smile. "I can tell you what to do. So you're not flying blind or anything."

Dustrielle exhaled. "Thanks. You'll need it."

"Don't you mean that you'll need it?"

"Not my fingers at stake."

Gin chuckled. "Fair. Take the brush from the bottle, unscrew the cap and take it out. There's going to be a big glob of polish on it, so just wipe it off until there's only a thin layer on the brush."

Dustrielle nodded, reaching down and unscrewing the cap with his hand, picking it up and wiping it off. He had reached out with his prosthetic to stabilize Gin's hand, before catching the glint of the metal from it. And Dustrielle realized that it might be better to use his prosthetic for what the two of them had designed it for: precise detail work.

Besides, Gin's hand would probably feel better with Dustrielle's regular hand, rather than the pointy bits of metal from the prosthetic.

Dustrielle unfolded his fingers and grabbed the cap with the spindly ends and reached his hand out to grab Gin's. As his skin met Gin's skin, he hoped beyond hope that the right side of his face wasn't flushing. Maybe it was distant, wishful, thinking, but he thought he caught a whiff of smoke in the air. But he just kept his eyes on Gin's fingers, eyeing the callouses on the sides of the hand.

"Right, drag the brush down the center of the nail. Slow, but steady, with a clean line and thin coat. Do the same on the right and left side of the nail too."

Dustrielle trembled as he picked up the brush and drew it down the center of Gin's nail, leaving a mostly even coat, albeit with a couple of small stray globules. He briefly entertained trying to work those out but decided to quit while he was… well, maybe "ahead" wasn't the correct term…

Instead, he leaned into his most powerful tool that he knew: distraction.

"Back in ye olden days, when dinosaurs walked the earth, did you paint the nails often?"

Gin snickered, his hand shaking slightly, as Dustrielle continued to paint along the nails. "Not like this. Didn't exactly have the time for it. Besides, I didn't exactly grow up somewhere where men had painted nails. Even the punks weren't all that into it, normally. When I first went to the States, for graduate school. I saw it a little more often in the music scene. Still, I only painted them before concerts and festivals. It's fun… sounds strange to say it, but…"

Gin stopped suddenly, looking around the room, a smile creeping across his face.

"Dressed like this," He gestured to himself. "I feel less like I'm wearing a costume than I do in my normal clothes."

Dustrielle raised an eyebrow, not able to contain his smile at the light in Gin's eyes. Gin did look comfortable in his skin, more so than Dustrielle thought he'd ever seen him. It was almost healing to look at.

Still, he couldn't resist his instincts.

"Oh? So. deep down, instead of a wild punk villain, you're a… wild punk villain?"

Brio groaned. "You're so sssstupid."

Dustrielle laughed. "Am I wrong?"

Gin rolled his eyes. "No. No, you are not. Brio is still right."

Dustrielle let go of Gin's hand, having finished the layer of polish on the nails. The layer wasn't particularly even, or neat. Streaks of the polish had embedded themselves firmly into Gin's cuticles, and an entire glob somehow wound up on the back of his hand.

Dustrielle felt the color drain from his face, and he winced deeply. "Sorry, it's not…"

Gin shook his head and raised his hand into a near-closed fist, shaking it back and forth, stopping every so often to blow on the nails.

"No. this is good. Way better than what I can do in this state. And way, way better than what Brio would do."

Brio rolled over in the bed to look at them, eyes narrowed. "Did I m-misread my calendar? Is it Roast Nitrus D-day?"

Dustrielle stuck his tongue out briefly. "That's every day, Brio."

Brio gave the middle finger again, chuckling. "You two are… are…are lucky I'm in a good mood."

Gin narrowed his eyes, laughing. "You're in a good mood? Ever?"

Dustrielle got to his feet and walked over to his closet, opening it, and taking out his smooth, dark brown turtleneck and deep burgundy pants. He also got his tweed jacket hung on the back of the closet door, at the ready.

"You two close your eyes. Unless you want to be traumatized."

Brio rolled over. "Way ahead of you. I'm al-already very traumatized."

Gin laughed as he turned around. "I wouldn't be traumatized, but fine."

Dustrielle sighed, shaking his head and smiling as he dropped his robe and pulled his turtleneck over his head. As he emerged from the sweater, he already knew that his hair had become a bit rumpled in the process. Thank goodness he hadn't styled it yet.

He pulled on his pants, and as he buttoned them, he nodded. "Clear, you're good. You can look."

Gin turned around, tilting his head, and nodding approvingly. "I like it… I like it a lot."

Dustrielle snorted as he looked into his mirror, fixing his hair. "You just like it because it's not too different from my usual. I haven't scared you."

He laughed at his little joke, though he glanced up in the mirror, and noticed Gin's reflection was a bit flushed, with a light flow of steam coming from the rocket, as he looked Dustrielle up and down.

…I…I wonder…?

RING!

Brio's communicator went off, and he groaned as he sat up in the bed. He patted around his pants before finding the communicator.

"Brio, over."

"Brio, where on Earth are you? Over."

It was Tropy. He didn't sound angry, per se, but certainly frustrated.

"Dustrielle's room, over."

"...dare I ask why you're in Dustrielle's room? Over."

"Pregaming. Gin's here too. Over"

"For God's sake, I've been looking all over for you two! Alright, I'll be up in a minute. Over."

"Heard, over and out."

Brio put the communicator back into his pocket and stood, stretching.

"Hope you two are ready. Tropy doesn't exactly like waiting, Dustrielle."

Dustrielle rolled his eyes. "Of course he doesn't…"

He hadn't even finished his sentence before the familiar blue glow filled the room. Tropy stood in the center of the space, separating the three men, triangulated in the middle of their positions.

Dustrielle smirked. "Louis XIV called. He wants his clothes back."

Tropy rolled his eyes and winked. "He doesn't know I took them."

His waistcoat, breeches and jacket were all a deep navy velvet, though the jacket seemed a bit stretched around the prosthetic arm. Both his jabot and stockings were a stark white, a striking contrast against his deep black shoes and hat.

He swept his arm out to his side, beckoning to all of them.

"Now, gentlemen, let's live deliciously. This might well be our last opportunity to do so."

Dustrielle looked up at him, trying to read Tropy's face, hoping beyond hope that Tropy's second time making this statement meant that it was a dry joke. But his notoriously impassive face gave nothing away. And Dustrielle had never been known to be an optimist.