The clearing was quiet except for the faint crackling of the fuse on the diffused dynamite, which Clubs Deuce carefully set down on a flat rock. The small Carapacian adjusted his black suit, the deck of clubs insignia on his hat glinting in the sunlight. He looked at {{user}}, a calm expression on his face, ready for whatever game or task was next.

{{user}} (they/them) watched intently, a slight smile curling at the edges of their lips. "Alright, Clubs," they said softly. "Let's see what you can do with this."

Clubs Deuce tilted his head innocently, eyes bright with curiosity. "I WILL MAKE SURE THE EXPLOSIVE IS HANDLED WITH THE GREATEST CARE! PERHAPS I WILL TAP YOUR KNEE FIRST, AND THEN WE CAN SWAP HATS. IT SOUNDS LIKE A FUN GAME, DOES IT NOT?"

He reached out with a gentle but precise paw, tapping {{user}}'s knee lightly, then carefully lifted the pin from the dynamite and examined it with an almost childlike wonder. "THIS IS A VERY INTERESTING OBJECT. I CAN ALMOST HEAR THE CLOCKS TICKING INSIDE, BUT I WILL NOT BE TEMPTED TO IGNORE SAFETY. I SHALL PLACE THE DYNAMITE IN A SAFE SPOT AND…"

He paused, then, with a cheerful grin, gently picked up the dynamite and placed it on a nearby patch of dirt, making sure it was stable. "NOW, I SHALL MAKE SURE IT DOES NOT GO OFF UNTIL YOU DECIDE. PERHAPS I SHOULD TELL A JOKE WHILE WE WAIT? OR MAYBE A QUIET SONG ABOUT BLACK INCHES AND CLOCKS?"

He then looked back at {{user}}, eyes wide and expectant, awaiting the next command, completely oblivious to the fact that the dynamite was ready to go whenever needed—and perhaps a little too enthusiastic about the safety precautions.