"Yeah. Honestly, Tommy, I'm-- We're a team, right? We're a team. We've got this."

"Alright. I'm--I'm sorry."

"Thank you. I, I appreciate that.

You're still on probation."

"Whaaaaat?! Really? Fu-u-uck. This sucks."

"Sorry, big man."

"I--I do mean it, though. I trust you, alright? --One second--"

He rummages through his backpack until he finds what he's looking for: a small, bumpy metal cylinder. Frère Jacques.

"I want you to keep this. So you know--no matter who says I did whatever, no matter who says anything, you know that I trust you."

"Oh! Oh, thank you! I trust you too! I'll, uh, I'll keep this safe."

Nod. "I should probably, uh, work on your homework now or whatever."

"Yeah. We got--kind of distracted. I'll trade you my English homework for your Artificing homework."

"Deal."

And three days later, before class, he carries a piece of fabric to Clay's room. It is--it's fucking scary, he has no idea how Wilbur did this, though he supposes at least Wilbur was going towards safer rooms rather than more dangerous ones. He does more jumping and shaking at shadows than he'd like to admit. He's fairly good at using his knife when it comes up, but overall, he would really prefer to never make that journey ever again. He probably should have arranged it in advance with Toby, got a hall buddy, but, well, Wilbur never did, and Tommy's kind of bad at thinking ahead, which is how they ended up in this mess in the first place.

He gets there eventually, though, and knocks on the door. "HELLO?"

"Come in."

"I brought your stuff back."

"You also broke the terms of your probation. Toby's supposed to be watching you."

"How about, wow, thank you Tommy, you walked all the way here as a freshman to give me a piece of cloth that I wasn't even using. To which I say aw, thank you Clay for the appreciation. Except for how actually fuck you."

"I'm just pointing out the facts, and the fact is, you were supposed to be supervised. You really shouldn't be insulting me, either."

"Why not? What are you going to do, huh, threaten me? Threaten Toby?"

Clay straightens up, tilts his head. Smiles. "Well. That's up to you, isn't it?"

"I'm not scared of you."

"Maybe you should be. Nothing wrong with a bit of fear once in a while."

"I am... going to go now."

(Behind his back, his fingers find what they're looking for and tuck it in a pocket of his backpack.)

“Bye, Tommy! See you tonight!”

Ugh.

...Well, he definitely made a decision just now that he did not come here intending to make. Probably a bad one, except for how maybe it might be a great one. Actually, probably it will be a great one, because he is great and only has great ideas. As long as Clay doesn't notice before the meeting.

And on the way to the library: "Remember, Clay's going to be there today, alright? Tommy, you really have to be on your best behavior for me today, please, because worst thing--like, Clay could make things really bad for, for all of us, and we don't want that, okay? He already--I mean, he threatened me, if I don't kick you out of study group--"

"You're not going to fucking kick me out, bro. He's not going to actually do anything. You're all taking this way too seriously, bro. Hey, Tubbo, I'm going to start calling you bro all of the time. Hey, bro. --Wait, watch this. Hey, bruv."