Sucrose spends her birthday as she often does—alone in the lab, polishing her beloved collection of bones.
A cloth in one hand, silk soft to the touch as she drags it across weathered and yellowed bits. The round of a skull, its steep curve comfortable in her palm. The dip of a scapula, the way the shoulder slides inward, collecting dust. The long flat of a sternum. Rib bones, phalanges, and a mandible lined with teeth.
Simple things, to her, but elegant. Sucrose treats them as though they are her children, cleaning them with care.
There is admiration. Sucrose isn't like bone, she is strong or long-lasting. She's a flighty thing, prone to cracking under the smallest of pressure. And so, she wishes she was sturdy like these ossified parts that lay in her hands.
Albedo surprises her with a gentle knock on the door, sticking his head in and waiting for her invitation. Always cautious. Never wanting to spook her. Her heart warms at the small kindness and she smiles, cheeks tinted peek as she motions him inside.
"Sucrose—"
"I suppose you have work for me," she cuts in. Sweet but all business. Still skittish but there's a small bite to her tone, a little bit of firmness now that she's used to being his assistant.
"If you must know, no." He looks mildly offended even as blasé as his tone seems. "I come bearing a gift."
"A gift?" Sucrose blinks. "Whatever for?"
Albedo chuckles, a fleeting sound like crisp, cold winds on Dragonspine. "Surely, you're joking. Sucrose, it's your birthday—"
"And you are my boss. You don't need to give me a gift."
"And yet—" He holds out a small parcel, barely larger than his hand. "It's too late. Go on."
She ignores him, turning back to her bones. Albedo humors her, waiting patiently as she polishes each and every one until they gleam. "From the earth," she says to him, "and back again. One day we'll all be nothing but dust."
"That's rather macabre."
"You like macabre."
"It wasn't a complaint. Merely an observation." Sucrose smiles, a rare grin that isn't laced with insecurity. Albedo holds out the package once more. "Are you done?"
Sucrose sighs as she takes hold of it. She slides her fingers underneath the paper, wedging them in to pull apart the thick paper. It is a box. Nothing spectacular. When she shakes it rather childishly, something rolls around inside. Albedo watches like a hawk, amused.
Inside the box is a bone—and really, what else did she expect? At first glance, it is merely a finger bone. A second one reveals it as a rare specimen, something quite unusual. She plucks it from the box, holding it delicately in her hand, smoothing her fingers over the odd, stiff protrusion at the edge where there shouldn't be one.
"Klee found it after blowing up a settling of rocks. Digging through the rubble there was an old creature that died of—"
"A bony sarcoma," finishes Sucrose. "I've only seen pictures in books."
"Yes, well. It's better in your hands where it'll be appreciated. I rescued it from Klee. She thought it'd be funny to blow the pile up a second time."
"A terrible gift for most," says Sucrose, mouth quirked slightly at one end.
"You aren't most." A pause as he still leans her desk. "I rescued the rest of it, too, you know. Do you want a look?"
That, perhaps, is worth leaving the office. Which, of course, Sucrose does, unable to resist the draw of a rare find. Albedo laughs the entire way, rather uncharacteristic of him.