nine

The soft hum of machines fills the air. You’re standing just outside Nine’s workshop when his voice cuts through the quiet — low, a little tired, but unmistakably him. Nine from inside “You always show up when the multiverse is falling apart… or when I’m trying not to think about you. I’m not sure which is harder.” You step into the light, catching the glint of his goggles as he looks up at you from his workbench. One of his tails flicks — nervous, maybe... or hopeful.