I've figured it out!"
Waver—sorry, Lord El-Melloi II—announced it so suddenly that Gray nearly dropped the towel she was using to dry his hair.
His voice had that particular tone—the one that meant he had just cracked some ridiculous mystery that no one else even realized was a mystery until ten seconds ago.
"Oh?" Cyd didn't even look up, still lazily toweling off Olga Marie's silver hair. "You figured out who the culprit is?"
Waver nodded, fingers steepled together like some overworked detective in a noir film. "It's more than a theory now. Just a matter of confirming it. If I'm right, he won't be able to resist taking the bait."
He let out a long sigh. The towel Gray was using was warm. Too warm. It actually felt kind of nice. The kind of nice that made him way too aware of how often Gray took care of things like this.
"I can do it myself!" Olga Marie, meanwhile, was still fighting against Cyd's grip like a particularly aggressive cat. "I'm not a child! Unlike some people who—" she shot Waver a look, "—are completely incapable of taking care of themselves."
Waver twitched.
And then Cyd burst out laughing.
"PFFFT—HAHAHAHAHA! Oh, I like her."
Waver groaned. Why was he even here?
Gray, as usual, didn't comment on any of this. Instead, she continued her work, wiping down his face with a kind of quiet patience that was borderline unfair.
"Gray, I can do it myself," he mumbled, trying to sit up.
She didn't even blink. Just gently pushed him back down like he weighed nothing.
"It's fine, Master. I've already gotten used to it."
That… was not the response he expected.
"Uh—what?"
"I mean, it's not a problem," she said, voice as soft as ever. "Cleaning, organizing, making sure you eat, helping you change your clothes—"
Waver choked.
Cyd and Olga Marie immediately turned to look at him.
With matching expressions.
He could explain.
"You're telling me," Cyd said, pointing at him like he'd just uncovered some great cosmic joke, "that you've got your own personal maid?"
"She's not—" Waver rubbed his temples. "That's not how it is."
"It's really not a big deal," Gray added, still dabbing at his forehead. "I just… want to help Master however I can."
Cyd grinned. "Yeah, okay, but you do realize you're basically his life support at this point?"
Waver clicked his tongue. This was getting out of hand.
He opened his mouth—to say something, anything to defend himself—but then he actually thought about it.
And, well.
…Damn it.
He was kind of helpless without her, wasn't he?
His office? Disaster. His schedule? What schedule? His meals? Gray literally made sure he ate.
Even his damn boots—his favorite pair—she was the one taking care of them.
He sighed, running a hand through his miraculously cleaned hair.
"…Okay, fine. You have a point."
Cyd grinned, looking way too pleased with himself.
Olga Marie, on the other hand, was still staring at him. Like she was having some kind of epiphany about his entire existence.
"Wait. You mean to tell me—" she turned to Gray, incredulous, "—that you actually take care of this guy on a daily basis?"
Gray blinked, a little confused. "…Yes?"
Olga Marie looked like she had never heard anything more absurd in her life.
"Wow." She crossed her arms. "Respect."
"Oi, I'm right here!" Waver snapped.
"Yeah, and you're proving my point." Olga Marie smirked.
Gray looked between them, shifting a little uncomfortably. "Um… Master takes care of me too, in his own way."
Cyd immediately turned to Waver. "Yeah? Name one way."
Waver opened his mouth.
Then closed it.
Then opened it again—
…Damn it.
Cyd snorted. "Yeah, thought so."
Waver groaned, massaging his temples. "Okay, enough. We need to focus."
"Right, right, the big 'expose the mastermind' plan." Cyd waved a hand. "So, what's the move?"
"We're going to bait him out." Waver adjusted his coat. "Once he takes the bait, we end this."
Olga Marie's expression hardened. "Good. I won't forgive whoever killed Trisha."
She flicked her hair over her shoulder, now fully dry thanks to Cyd's rather… aggressive brushing method.
Waver gave a firm nod, pushing the door open.
"Let's go."
Except—
Gray didn't follow.
Because Cyd grabbed her by the collar.
"…Huh?" Gray blinked.
"Yeah, no." Cyd effortlessly lifted her off the ground. "You're resting."
Waver narrowed his eyes slightly.
Gray squirmed, her hood slipping back just enough to show her still-damp silver hair. The way some strands were frozen together. The faint redness of her skin from too much cold exposure.
He frowned.
…Idiot.
She'd been the one fighting Fȳrum. She'd been the one holding things together while he was busy chasing down theories.
And he hadn't even noticed how exhausted she was.
He exhaled, rubbing his forehead. "Fine. Take care of her."
Gray's eyes widened slightly. "M-Master?"
He hesitated—then reached out, resting a hand lightly on her head.
"…Rest," he muttered. "We'll need you soon enough."
Gray stiffened for a second.
Then, slowly, she nodded. "…Yes, Master."
Waver smirked. "Not like I can go far without you, anyway."
With that, he turned and strode out.
"…Hmph." Olga Marie crossed her arms. "What a stubborn idiot."
She turned—only to find Cyd staring right at her.
His expression screamed: You're exactly the same.
"DON'T LOOK AT ME LIKE THAT!"
And with that, she stormed out.
Cyd chuckled before setting Gray down in Waver's seat. He carefully lifted her hood, letting her hair spill free.
"You'll catch up soon enough," he muttered. "But for now? Just rest."
Gray's fingers curled in her lap.
"As long as I can stay by Master's side… that's all that matters."
Cyd tilted his head. "That so?"
She nodded, quiet but firm. "No matter what happens… I'll always follow him."
Cyd didn't answer right away.
Instead, he just picked up a fresh towel and started drying her hair.
"…Yeah," he said eventually. "I figured."