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Heyyyyyyyyy, you know who you've got, babe. Say what you've gotta say.

[A long pause.

Shuffling.

Cloth.

Clatter.

Another long pause.

The actual cacophony of Finch's dorm.

And if you haven't hung up YET:]

Saints! Is this still o-?

[BEEEEEEEEEP.]

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RIGHT, lets aim this away from us?!

Best way to aim the parts that might do something screwy.

[But that sense of nothing uncoils from inside of him -- extends outward, like an offer]

[He reaches out in turn. It's a different feeling. Smells a bit like the ground after a fresh rain, it's potential, it's the grounding of lightning, it .. twines not perfectly...

But easily enough.

The sense of potential grows.]

Oh, there we go.

[He shifts, a little. There's a sense of guiding that potential out away from them, toward something else -- letting it run ahead of them a little, to where it tends to veer]

[Jesper tries to let go of his own controls-

And for a moment, Eddie can see what he does, the pillow they're both laying on, how the structure of it seems to unfold into fibers, and then dyes and then down to compounds and molecules--]

Well I'll be.

[He sounds faintly awed -- feels faintly awed, a dawning sense of wonder washing through the both of them]

[Eddie reaches out toward the pillow; that sense of being flickers, there along the edges, fading out until those fibers are partly there and partly not, somehow both at once]

Saints. Is that?

[It FEELS like part of it's just not there, but is. He presses on the bridge of his nose with his free hand.]

... Think... we could make patterns with this?

[There's a bright spark of excitement, swelling warm and shivery inside him]

Oh, I reckon we could.

Take the wheel, bo. See what you can do.

[It echoes, amplifying as it's pitched back to Eddie. Normally this is a fraught enough topic, but right now? Right now it's just heady excitement and curiosity.]

Right... lets see...

[He tries what he normally does, finding little areas in the fibers to work, to coax out a pattern-

But it's harder like this. It's not quite HIS, is it? And there's a lot of nothing that could be MORE nothing.

It starts in little whorls of seethrough, that despite it's fluffiness, the pillow half vanished as if glass.

But it pools like ink in the water, starting to cover the surface...]

Hah. Would you look at that!

[The excitement glimmers through the connection, bright and bubbly as a glass of sparkling wine; where Jesper falters because he isn't used to so much nothing, Eddie steps in to bolster him, reaching out to steady and guide]

It's really...

[The pillow is only a little there. Or, rather, by the time Eddie's deft hand threads the needle, only a spiral of the pillow reflects light anymore.]

Saints.

Oh, that's set.

That's for keeps, I'd wager.

You mean it'll stay like this.

[He lifts the pillow. He can still FEEL IT... but he can absolutely see Eddie through it.]

I reckon it will.

[Reaching out to touch it, careful]

[It's there, but it's not? Eddie's fingers both find an edge, some resistance, but there's a bit like- somewhere between gas and liquid. The parts that make up the pillow are somehow far apart. So much nothing between them.]

It's weird, isn't it?

Well I'll be. That is different.

I'm not sure what we did.

But we sure did do it.

... Want to see what else we can turn into a trap?

A trap, huh?

What're you thinking?

Nothing SERIOUS. Just. You ever stub your toe early in the morning.

[He glances at a little stool nearby..]

Oh, you are wicked.

Me I'm absolutely innocent. This is just practice. Highly important.

Well, guess we better practice, then.

[Pure mischief vibrates through their connection, warm humor and a fondness for his teammates at the root of it.]

Time for Finch enrichment.

[He holds up a hand, reaching out, a brief hesitation, waiting for Eddie.]

[Amusement radiates back, and warmth, and humor]

[And that nothing rises up in turn, as Eddie turns it stool-ward]

[Jesper's attention focuses in, starting to stitch the nothing in around the grain like he would dyes, letting it profuse the old, dead cells. Slowly, one patch at a time, the stool starts to fade from sight.]

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