And Clay's there.

Oh? What's this? A win for team Tommy, perhaps?

Okay. Play it cool, big T. He goes up to Clay. "HELLO."

".....Hello......? Who.... are you."

"I'm Tommy. Wilbur's brother." Pause. ...Okay, that's not getting any recognition either. "Wilbur Soot's brother."

"Huh. I don't remember Terrence mentioning you. Then again, he didn't talk about Wilbur much either."

"Hey! Maybe he just didn't talk much about us to you. What're you doing?"

Tommy is impressively rude. Maybe it runs in the family. "Alchemy."

"I mean, yeah, obviously. I meant, like, am I interrupting anything."

That... is a good question.

He looks at his current project and sighs. He's got another hour of standing around and waiting and supervising. Which is probably mana-building or something, but he doesn't really need the mana, and it's really boring, and none of the other Tampa kids are around.

Might as well accept the distraction.

"...Nah, I'm not doing anything."

"Great! Do you want to meet my music box?"

"Hm?"

"I said, do you want to meet my music box."

"You.... brought a music box?"

"Well, yeah. I mean--it's like my friend, you know? It's not that heavy."

"Why didn't you just sing? If you wanted music."

"So you don't want to meet my music box."

"...Well. I didn't say that."

"Yes!" Fist-pump. "Knew it, called it, I win everything. You are going to meet my music box and you are going to see that it is the best." He sits down and starts digging through his backpack. "Frère Jacques good with you? Otherwise I can switch cylinders but I'll have to, like, unscrew it and apologize a bunch in case it doesn't want to be unscrewed."

"Sure, that's--that's fine?"

Then Tommy can take out a hand-crank music box and speak to it in the sort of voice usually reserved for puppies or kittens. "Hello! Hello again, beautiful! Sorry I put you in my backpack, I know it's dark in there, but that way I can keep you with me. Otherwise I'd have to carry you in my hand and then I might drop you and have to fix you. In my backpack I cannot drop you. This is Clay, he knew Terrence, you remember Terrence, right?"

...Okay maybe he's a little curious. "Terrence talked about me? What did he say?"

"Um. ...Mostly that you were annoying? But also kinda endearing? And then he said it was like me but that's not it because I'm not annoying. Or endearing. I am merely likable. Isn't that right, music box. Anyway Terrence is wrong about these things, I don't think you're annoying at all, don't shoot the messenger."

"I won't shoot the messenger. Did he think I was cool?"

Awwwwww. Tommy can see why Terrence found him endearing. "Um. I don't know? ...Probably? He definitely thought you'd be really cool in a couple years once you weren't a freshman anymore, and it's been a couple years, and you're a senior and you're really good at stuff now, so he was definitely right about that."

He'll take it. "...You can play the music box now."

Music box!!!!!!!! One hand holds it, the other turns the crank. He would pet it in case it likes that, but he can't because his hands are occupied, and anyway maybe that'd be weird anyway, so it works out. It plays music. Tommy is captivated.

Clay's pretty captivated too, to be honest. It's been a while since he's heard music that isn't his own singing.

And then the song ends. "Thank you, music box. I can also play it really slow or really fast--watch--" And he turns the crank as fast as he can, to get a sped-up version. "See? It's so nice and it lets me play it however much I want at whatever speed it wants, 'cause it loves me."

"I, uh. Sure."

"I've got three cylinders. It's, like, my prized possession in here, you know? Maybe in general. It is one of my favorite things definitely, 'cause they love me so much. But not my favorite because I do not choose favorites, I am like a good parent. Like Phil. Do you know Phil? Phil is so cool.

You know, I reckon Wil's wrong about you."

“Yeah, well, he’s got a big grudge against me for no reason, so.”

“Well. You took his stuff, that’s kind of a reason.”

“I mean, it was Eret’s stuff, Eret gave it to me, I mean—I’m just saying, like, I don’t know what he expected me to do.”

“Well. Either way. I think you are a pretty cool guy. D’you want to listen to the other songs sometime?”

“That depends, what are they?”

“Guess you’ll have to talk to me again to find out, won’t you, Clay?”

“Guess I will.”