(Untitled)

[grey_matter]

There's a microscope beside him, a slide locked into place with some tissue sample or another, and papers strewn across the desk. The building is over half finished now. Grey, however, is asleep at the desk in his lab, having failed to actually make it to bed, as happens all too often.

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[ockette]

A door somewhere snicts shut. But the sound, and in fact the door, are not mundane things, to be found in the waking world. No. The sound echoes very quietly in Grey's dreams, followed, shortly, by the faintest hint of a child's giggle.

[grey_matter]

There's a boy of about five sitting cross-legged on the lawn in front of a rather nice looking house, a bottle of bubbles clasped in one hand and the wand in the other. He blows softly into the wand, sending a stream of bubbles flying out into the air, and watches as a soft breeze takes the iridescent orbs ever higher.

His transfixion with them is cut short, however, by the echoing sound of a door closing and what sounds like childish laughter. He turns to look in the direction it seems to be coming from.

[ockette]

Clair's awfully small for four, so it's a very little girl teetering on the edge of the house's porch, barefoot and dressed in pale gold, her hair an orange firebrand and her eyes unnaturally black, so deep there are stars in them. "Can I play?"

[grey_matter]

The boy seems oddly unperturbed by the fact that the girl has just exited what is his own house. He watches her a moment, apparently considering the request, and then grins. "Okay!"