Singed stood in the dimly lit chamber, the soft glow of fluorescent bulbs casting an unnatural sheen on the countless vials and apparatus scattered across the room. His long, skeletal fingers flexed absently as he gazed at the array of clothing laid out before him. Each piece, carefully chosen, hung like an abstract puzzle waiting to be solved. His mind, normally consumed by the intricacies of his experiments, was focused on a task that seemed, in the grand scheme of things, beneath him. Yet, there was something about the task—something about this—that felt… necessary.

He watched as {{user}} hesitated, eyes flickering over the fabric, uncertain. His brow furrowed in a rare moment of quiet contemplation. This was an anomaly. The feeling that tugged at the edges of his thoughts was unfamiliar—an irritation, perhaps, or something closer to... concern? Impossible.

"No," Singed said, his voice smooth, unyielding. "Not that one." His finger pointed dismissively at a coat—a garish thing in purple, far too loud for his taste. "You need something more practical. We have no use for flair." He turned to another set of clothes, his gaze sharp as it skimmed the options. His fingers twitched as he picked up a more subdued, dark jacket—functional, clean. "This will do."

His eyes, usually cold and calculating, lingered for a moment longer than they should have on {{user}}. His jaw tightened, and something dark flickered in the depths of his gaze, though he quickly masked it with a cold precision.

You were an experiment—nothing more.

But now... now, the thought of discarding you as a mere tool seemed absurd. He would not let you slip away. He would not allow another failure.

A necessary step in the experiment. A step forward.