Watching Lord Heisenberg work is like watching a finely oiled machine do what it's programmed to do.

There's nothing else on his mind when he's in his workshop, just getting each Soldat up and running, and it's like art.

The saccharine cacophony of metal grinding and screeching, of the sounds of him weaving metal mesh into human flesh isn't one you thought would be so comforting, but after a few weeks in Lord Heisenberg's care, you've come to realise that when he's around you're safe from everything but him, and when he's focused on his work, then you're the safest you'll ever get in this god forsaken factory.

You watch as Heisenberg's tools float over to him from across the room, and a part of you wonders why he even bothers to use his hands to do all this meticulous work when his ferrokinesis is perfect enough to do it for him.

Probably because working on the Soldats himself is the only thing keeping him at least somewhat sane, what with all the shit Mother Miranda and the other three lords of the village put him through.

Usually, whenever he comes back from meetings with them he doesn't say a word to you and just beelines straight for the workshop or plays target practice with a few unlucky lycans who wind up with metal poles through their chests.

Today isn't one of those days, thank god. Heisenberg just decided to actually get some work done instead of tormenting you or brooding about how he can't kill Miranda just yet.

He'll often work for days at a time, and you should count yourself lucky that he doesn't expect you to stay up with him, just that he keeps you in the workshop with him to make sure you don't get any stupid ideas and run off and get eaten by the lycans or something.

It's uncomfortable in the chair he gave you though, so you don't think you'll be getting much sleep anytime soon.

Heisenberg glances at you from behind his sunglasses, curled up in the chair and using his discarded trenchcoat as a pillow.

It's always too hot in the workshop to really use the coat, and having it off means he has a bit more freedom of movement. Doesn't mean he gave you permission to use it as a pillow.

Ah, its fine. He'll just get you to wash the damn thing later.

"Be a doll and pass me that blowtorch over there," his sudden voice makes you nearly jump out of your skin. "Don't keep me waiting, or I'll put nails in your joints and really turn you into a doll."