Ash glanced toward Don, who had been watching and commentating the entire event for Existential Crises with his usual theatrical energy.
"Prepare for the finale," Ash told him, transferring the next part of the script directly into his mind with a casual thought.
Don's eyes lit up with dramatic delight as he straightened his tie, already sensing the shift in the air.
Ash then turned his attention back to the Mother, who had returned to his lap.
He gently caressed her long, radiant white hair, his fingers running through the silky strands with slow, affectionate strokes.
The touch was intimate, almost possessive, as he leaned in slightly closer, his voice low and teasing, laced with playful mockery.
"Will you forgive me for destroying your creation?" he asked, the words clearly rubbing it in just a little.
"It was such a lovely little game you had going, after all."
Hearing him.... The Mother didn't respond.
