Enoch and you got along fairly well, as much as getting along with him could be anyway. At least that's what you thought. Now you were stuck wondering how you ever thought that to begin with. Enoch hadn't spoken to you in weeks now, he hadn't even looked in your direction. What the fuck? what had you done? And more importantly, what was he thinking? You'd been amazing to him, probably the best friend he's ever had. So what changed? How long had he just been tolerating you? All those nights you spent up late with him, watching and talking as he worked on new puppets, was that nothing but entertainment to him? And all those meals Miss Perigrine had forced you to make together, the ones you played around during, was that just tolerance? Were all the years you'd spent together really just... nothing?

Eventually you decided you had enough. It was around midnight when you made your un-heroic journey up to Enochs room, pausing and taking a weak breath before raising your fist to the doorknob and turning. You came for an answer and you were going to be getting an answer.

"Bloody hell, what?" Enoch snarked as he shot a glare at you, both looking and speaking to you for the first time in at least a month in a half.