"You don't understand! This is a disaster!"
DG watched from her perch on an empty work table as nuts and bolts clinked against one another in the air, nearly hidden from view amidst swirls of paper scraps and the random strip of cloth. The sound of heavier thunks against the solid wood floor spoke of carelessly tossed tools, marking the path of the miniature tornado from one end of the laboratory to the other.
Standing beside her, Cain snorted. "Nice to see that over-exaggeration was not just a Glitch trait."
The swirling detritus abated as a pair of brown eyes flashed in indignation in their direction. "How is that helpful?"
Cain raised his hands in mock surrender. "Forgive me. Please continue."
Ambrose held his gaze a moment longer, eyes narrowing in suspicion before ducking back out of sight.
"You could help, you know!" the genius inventor called, reappearing and setting a large metal box on the nearest table. It opened with a loud thunk, and Ambrose all but crawled inside, moving unseen machine around.
"You could tell us what you're looking for," Cain called back.
Ambrose straightened and stepped back, dragging a hand down his face. "I can't find my tele-spectacles! The Queen has asked for my final draft on the new security shield for the royal carriage, but I can't finish it without my tele-spectacles! The details that need to be added are critical to the engineering process!"
"Uh . . ." DG started.
Cain waved her silent. "Are you sure they're in the lab?"
DG shot him a stunned look as Ambrose moved to his drafting table. "I put them here this morning before leaving for breakfast. I had them on all night before that."
Cain folded his arms. "Maybe the problem isn't a pair of missing glasses. Maybe the problem is a lack of sleep muddling your memory."
Ambrose flapped a careless hand at Cain, moving to a set of bookshelves. "I've gone way longer without sleep than this. Can we get back to the problem at hand? My meeting with the Queen is in one hour!"
DG and Cain watched as Ambrose flitted from shelf to table, and from invention to contraption. Each spark of hope was soon doused with frantic disappointment as every idea failed to yield the missing spectacles.
"Should we do something?" DG asked Cain quietly.
Cain smirked. "You mean besides laugh?"
DG smacked Cain's arm.
Several more minutes of frenetic energy finally dissipated, leaving Ambrose standing dejected in the middle of a completely devastated laboratory. His shoulders slumped, his head tipped down.
"I can't find them," he said mournfully.
Cain strode forward, coming to a stop in front of Ambrose. His small smirk still intact, he reached up and plucked a pair of glasses with multiple interchangeable lenses half-buried among riotous curls and handed them to Ambrose.
"My specs!" Joy and relief flooded Ambrose's face as he snatched up the glasses, only to abruptly scowl in annoyance at Cain. "Wait; did you know they were there this whole time?"
"You've got about forty-five minutes until your meeting," Cain reminded him. "Might want to finish those plans before then."
Ambrose's eyes lit up and he hurried to his drafting table. "Yes! You're right! I . . . " His voice trailed off as he began shuffling the papers around on the table. "Cain! My plans are missing! This is a disaster!"
DG smirked at Cain. Cain raised long-suffering eyes to the ceiling, then moved to join Ambrose in his search.
END