The morning sun filtered through the workshop windows, illuminating dust motes and half-assembled inventions.
Jax was sitting on the floor, surrounded by gears. He was trying to build a self-stirring spoon for Ophelia (before she merged, she had complained that stirring coffee was peasant work).
Luna walked in, carrying a basket of fresh laundry. She stopped, watching him wrestle with a tiny spring.
"You look like you're fighting a losing battle," Luna smiled, leaning against the doorframe.
"This spring," Jax grunted, "has a vendetta against me. It keeps jumping into the void."
He finally snapped the piece into place and looked up. He wiped grease on his cheek (missing the spot he aimed for).
"So," Jax grinned, flashing that roguish charm. "We have a free evening. No moons falling. No weddings to plan. Just us."
" actually," Luna bit her lip, looking mischievous. "I was thinking... we should share."
