---
Fizz froze mid-twirl, one leg out, eyes wide and guilty. "I would never," he said, then set the leg down like a cat returning a stolen ham.
They took a break. Fizz declared it "snack o'clock" and ate a cookie in four thoughtful bites. John drank water, rolled his shoulders, and let the ache move through to the other side.
Back to work. Fizz added a little heat to his water with a small fire kiss. Steam rose. Old grease sighed and let go faster. "See?" Fizz said, proud. "Hot water is just water with ambition."
"Less heat on the bolts," John warned. "Do not make them soft."
"I am a professional," Fizz said, offended, and then bumped the lantern into his own ear.
"This is the worst ballroom," he told the room. "Ten out of ten, never dance here."
Time passed in slow squares. The tin lantern crawled along the wall as Fizz moved it. The chalk numbers on the sections became smudges on John's sleeves. The little void ate a thousand tiny things no one missed.
