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- "Fetch me the perchlorate, would you?"
- >"Sure thing, Twi."
- >He wore the same eager expression as he had the very first day being your lab assistant.
- >It was quite pleasant having someone so enthusiastic with whom to share your passion for science.
- >You remember the one time where, out of the blue, he had confided in you that he never found the pursuit of knowledge in any form dull or useless, that he had gone so far as to prepare himself for enormously technical universities before his circumstances betrayed him.
- >Well, maybe "betrayed" isn't appropriate; if not for such circumstances, he would never have met you.
- >Nor would you have met him.
- >"Twi?"
- >You were yanked from your daydream by his curious tone, and you found that your gaze had been locked on him the whole time he rendezvoused with the supply cabinet.
- >Taken aback, you feigned clearing your throat.
- "Ohh...uhh...yes?"
- >"The perchlorate." He produced a vial, holding it in front of his impeccable features, in which you noticed a faintly amused smile.
- >Trying desperately not to embarrass yourself any further, you magically gripped the glass tube and pulled out its stop.
- >You peered down at the lab procedure you had penned, trying to shove the stray thoughts of Anon out of your mind, though with little success.
- "Let's see... 'into a three-to-five part mixture by mass...'"
- >"Twenty four grams," he stated without hesitation.
- >You stayed your magic as it was just about to reach the calculator, not quite thinking clearly.
- "...beg your pardon?"
- >"You want twenty four grams of perchlorate in the mixture for a three-to-five mix." He politely indicated toward the balance. "Did you want me to measure it?"
- "No, no! It's...fine, I can do it..." you quickly replied, feeling your face warming.
- >Soon after zeroing the balance, you meticulously measured precisely twenty four grams of perchlorate into the beaker upon it, focusing the full vigor of your mental capacity on that task to the exclusion of the prim and proper human casually observing.
- >Once you were confident the beaker held the correct amount, down to the last grain, you satisfied yourself with your handiwork, and mixed it into the mortar.
- "...mind helping me with...with...?" You stuttered, the word on the tip of your tongue, but refusing to make itself present.
- >"The pestle?"
- >You weren't sure which was more euphoric: the mental itch that had been scratched, or the sensuous voice the culprit word had been said in.
- "Yes, that." You assured him, still not quite lucid.
- >"Certainly, m'lady."
- >You felt yourself blush.
- "Yaknow, you don't have to...call me that..." Your voice weakly trailed off, feeling as if the very statement were an affront to the object of dear affection standing before you.
- >"Oh, but I will, Twi," he said jovially, a grin forming despite his concentration mostly placed on grinding the many chunks of small white crystals into powder.
- >You weren't quite sure how to respond, so you didn't; rather, you found the procedure again, and softly read the next few sentences.
- "'...mix thoroughly, then heat under a gentle flame until liquefied.'"
- >"I'd say this is pretty thorough," said Anon, gracefully sliding the bowl down the surface toward your station.
- >You looked inside the mortar.
- >It was dust.
- >A strong sneeze would blow it all away.
- >...that was quite fast...
- "...Thanks."
- >"Anytime."
- >Trying your best not to be captivated by the gentleman, you engaged the gas and turned on the burner before you, drawing near a ring stand bearing a small crucible in a tight clamp.
- >With practiced ease, you emptied the fine powder into the crucible, ensuring not a modicum remained in the mortar before setting it aside, then, with a careful hoof, rotated the stand so the crucible was enveloped in flame.
- >"Uhm, Twi?" Said the dreamy voice to your left, suddenly thick with worry.
- "Yes?" You couldn't hold it back any longer.
- >You let your lustful eyes wander to the biped, the simple sight of the fine primate bringing you every sort of somatic splendor you could ever imagine possible.
- >Scanning his incredible form, your gaze fell upon his strong arms, toward his sculpted torso, and eventually his face...
- >...which was contorted in fear.
- >You snapped out of it.
- "Huh?"
- >"'Gentle flame?!'"
- >You looked back at the crucible, the bottom part of which was now glowing cherry red.
- >Oh shit.
- "GET DOWN!!!"
- *BOOM*
- >No sooner did the two of you dive to the floor than did the tiny ceramic vessel violently explode into hundreds of tiny pieces, pelting the two of you with a scalding rain of hot glass and burnt, sulfurous chemical.
- >Eventually, the clatter of falling pieces ceased, and you felt it safe to open your eyes once again.
- >The first thing you saw was Anon, cowering similarly behind a small cart.
- >"Are you alright, Twi?"
- "...I think so."
- >The red-hot debris had just singed your fur, the smell now starting to linger in the enclosed space.
- >Anon seemed to have found a more opportune shelter, himself looking free of any mark of injury.
- "Uhhh..." You looked at the still-shocked human meekly. "My bad."
- >His expression lightened.
- >"It's fine. I guess we're both OK, then?"
- >You lifted yourself up and dusted off your coat.
- "I think so..."
- >"Excellent, though I don't suppose we'll be continuing this experiment quite immediately," Anon posited, observing the mess that had been made of the formerly clean lab table.
- >You let out a nervous chuckle.
- "No, I guess not."
- >"Not a problem at all; same time tomorrow?" He said, without any noticeable flaw in his composure.
- "Well..."
- >"...well?" He raised an eyebrow.
- "I was thinking..."
- ===
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