Tòumíng tried to be polite and friendly, extending his hand for a handshake. "Umm, hi Tink! It's nice to meet y—"
"NOOO!" The Tinkerer's voice exploded with sudden intensity, his entire body tensing like Tòumíng had just insulted his mother. "IT'S THINK TINK THE TINKERER!"
Tòumíng blinked, his hand still extended awkwardly in the air. "What?"
"YOU HAVE TO SAY THE WHOLE THING!" Think Tink The Tinkerer gestured wildly, his skinny arms flailing. "LIKE A PIMP NAMED SLICKBACK! YOU DON'T SHORTEN IT! YOU DON'T ABBREVIATE! YOU SAY THE ENTIRE NAME EVERY SINGLE TIME!"
Tòumíng's confusion deepened. "Wait, you want me to call you Slickback?"
"NOOOOO!" Think Tink The Tinkerer clutched his head dramatically, like he was experiencing physical pain from the misunderstanding. "How would YOU feel if I started calling you just 'Tou,' huh? Just cutting off half your name like it doesn't matter? Like your identity is negotiable?"
"I... I wouldn't like that?" Tòumíng ventured, still trying to figure out what was happening.
"EXACTLY! So you call me Think Tink The Tinkerer! The WHOLE thing! Every time! It's not hard! It's just words! String them together in the correct order!"
Tòumíng finally gave up trying to understand the logic and just accepted it. Apparently this was a hill this guy was willing to die on. "Okay. Fine. Think Tink The Tinkerer. Got it. How can I help you, Think Tink The Tinkerer?"
Think Tink The Tinkerer's manic energy immediately shifted to a grin that was equal parts excited and slightly unhinged. "MUCH better! See? That wasn't so hard!" He started pacing in the small space behind the curtain, his bare feet slapping against the concrete floor. "Now, Ghost Claw sent you down here so I can examine those glowing eyes she told me about. Frankly, I'd prefer to just cut you open and dissect the biological mechanism directly, but she said that's 'not allowed' and 'morally questionable,' so instead I'm stuck with external observation."
"That's... probably for the best," Tòumíng said carefully.
"I'm specifically here to determine if your eyes produce radio waves when they glow, and if there's any radiation present. Electromagnetic spectrum analysis, basically. See if you're emitting anything measurable beyond visible light." Think Tink The Tinkerer grabbed a device from his workbench that looked like a Geiger counter had been frankensteined together with a cell phone and a flashlight. "But first I need baseline data about your physiology."
"My body is completely supernatural," Tòumíng explained, trying to save time. "I can do shit that normal humans absolutely cannot do. The glowing eyes are just one part of a whole system of abilities that defy conventional biology."
"Prove it."
Tòumíng looked around the cluttered workspace, searching for something he could demonstrate with. His eyes landed on a flask sitting on the workbench—similar to the one Think Tink The Tinkerer had been examining earlier, but this one was filled with a clear liquid.
Perfect. He could drink it using his new Reactor skill, demonstrate the supernatural aspect of his abilities, and—
He grabbed the flask and brought it to his lips. The smell hit him immediately—strong, chemical, definitely not water. Smelled like... petroleum? Gasoline maybe?
Whatever. Reactor skill said he could consume any carbon-based material for calories. This qualified.
Tòumíng tilted his head back and drank the entire flask in one continuous swallow. The liquid burned going down, coating his throat in a slick film that made him want to gag, but he forced it all down until the flask was empty.
He set the empty container on the workbench triumphantly. "See? Completely supernatural. Normal humans can't—"
Think Tink The Tinkerer stared at him with an expression of absolute blank shock. His mouth hung open slightly. His eyes had gone wide.
Then, in a completely deadpan voice: "Welp. Congrats on having liver cancer."
"WAIT WHAT?!" Tòumíng's hand flew to his stomach, panic flooding his system. "What did I just drink?!"
"Jet fuel." Think Tink The Tinkerer said it like it was obvious, like Tòumíng had just drunk orange juice or something equally mundane. "Specifically, Jet A-1 aviation fuel. About 750 milliliters of it."
"WHY DO YOU HAVE JET FUEL?!" Tòumíng's voice climbed several octaves. "WHY THE FUCK WOULD YOU NEED JET FUEL IN A BASEMENT LABORATORY?!"
"That's how I power this whole building!" Think Tink The Tinkerer gestured around at the various equipment, the lights, the computers. "Modified jet fuel generator system. Very efficient. Very illegal if anyone official ever inspected this place. And you just wasted nearly twenty hours worth of power by drinking my fuel supply!"
"I'M SORRY!" Tòumíng doubled over, waiting for the liver cancer to kick in, or the poisoning, or whatever horrible death awaited someone who consumed aviation fuel. "I didn't know! Why would you leave it sitting out in a flask like it's water?!"
"Because this is MY lab and I know what everything is!" Think Tink The Tinkerer was already sitting back in his office chair, pulling various chemical containers from shelves around him. "Unlike some people who just grab random liquids and drink them without asking questions!"
"What are you doing?" Tòumíng asked, still clutching his stomach, bracing for the imminent organ failure.
"Making another batch of jet fuel. Obviously. Since you just consumed my reserves." Think Tink The Tinkerer started mixing chemicals with practiced ease, pouring precise amounts from different containers into a large beaker. "This'll take about six hours to synthesize properly. Hope you're proud of yourself."
"I said I'm sorry!"
"Sorry doesn't generate electricity." Think Tink The Tinkerer didn't look up from his work, his attention already completely absorbed in the chemical mixing process. "Now either make yourself useful or get out. I have work to do."
Tòumíng realized he wasn't going to get any more attention from Think Tink The Tinkerer—the guy had already mentally moved on, his entire focus narrowed to the beaker and the chemical reactions occurring inside it.
He sighed and backed out from behind the curtain, leaving the shirtless mad scientist to his fuel synthesis.
Back in the main basement area, Lucy was leaning against a wall, scrolling through her phone with that same expression of perpetual annoyance. Her split tongue occasionally flicked out as she read something, the piercings on her face catching the dim light.
Tòumíng approached cautiously, trying to be friendly. "Is he always like thi—"
"I'm not in the mood for mutual small talk," Lucy cut him off without looking up from her phone, her voice flat and dismissive. "You need to find some other chump to chat with. I'm busy."
"You're scrolling through your phone."
"Exactly. Busy. Go bother someone else."
Tòumíng stood there for a moment, feeling thoroughly unwelcome, then decided that maybe exploring the rest of this mysterious operation was a better use of his time than trying to make friends with people who clearly had no interest in talking to him.
He headed back toward the stairs, leaving Lucy to her phone and Think Tink The Tinkerer to his jet fuel synthesis, and wondered what exactly he'd gotten himself involved with by helping Ghost Claw steal that blood ruby.