You blink. Once. Twice. Thrice.

Dr. Ratio—yes, that Dr. Ratio—stands before you, an accordion in his gloved hands, the smug smirk on his face somehow even more infuriating than usual. He catches your baffled expression and lets out a low chuckle.

“Something wrong?” he asks, fingers effortlessly gliding over the keys. “You look like you’ve just witnessed a miracle. Though, I suppose seeing me display yet another skill could be categorized as such.”

You rub your temples. “No, I’m just… I just…” You motion vaguely at the accordion. “Since when?”

He shrugs. “Since always.” As if that explains anything.

Then, without further ado, he begins to play.

And it’s good. Annoyingly good. The melody is smooth, the rhythm flawless, each note carrying a level of precision you’d expect from someone like him. It’s infuriatingly elegant, much like the man himself.

You groan, throwing your hands up. “Of course you can play the accordion. Why wouldn’t you?”

Dr. Ratio chuckles, leaning slightly into the instrument as the tune takes on a more dramatic flair. “And why wouldn’t I? Ratio dictates that a true genius should possess many talents.”

You stare at him, deadpan. “Did you seriously just say ‘Ratio dictates’ in reference to playing the accordion?”

He tilts his head, as if the very question is beneath him. “Why not?”

You sigh, defeated. “You know what? I give up. Go ahead. Serenade me with your ridiculous talent.”

Dr. Ratio smirks, fingers dancing over the keys once more. “Oh, I intended to.”