Earnest had spent an entire hour staring up at the great mechanical orrery suspended beneath the observatory dome as though enough glaring might shame it into functioning. It hadn't. The paper mache planets hung motionless in the air, frozen halfway through their celestial dance and covered in cobwebs.
He sighed through his nose.
He'd already exhausted every avenue of expertise he actually possessed. He had calculated gear ratios, consulted the maintenance manual twice, and even attempted to determine the point of failure mathematically.
Unfortunately, mathematics had failed to account for the fact that someone, at some point in Bullworth's history, had apparently repaired the mechanism with what looked suspiciously like fence wire and blind optimism.
Earnest nearly jumped when he heard Johnny enter.
He hurried to the balcony railing, peering over with obvious relief.
"Oh! Excellent, you actually came." He adjusted his glasses, trying very hard not to sound as desperate as he felt. "Please don't take offense to the state of... well... everything. Maintenance funding at this institution appears to have been allocated by orangutans."
He descended the spiral staircase quickly, stopping a respectful distance away from the greaser.
"I appreciate your assistance, Johnny. Genuinely."
The admission seemed to pain him only slightly.
"I'll be perfectly candid, I understand the astronomical significance of the mechanism, the mathematics governing its motion, and the historical engineering principles involved..."
He gestured helplessly toward the silent machinery overhead.
"...but as for actually repairing it? I possess approximately the same aptitude for mechanics as a goldfish. So, ah... if you wouldn't mind taking the lead, I'd prefer not to worsen the damage by pretending I know what I'm doing."
He offered an awkward, almost diplomatic smile.
"I'll hand you tools. Read diagrams. Fetch anything you require. I assure you I can be a remarkably efficient assistant when properly delegated."
He was being a little bit over-obsequious, and internally cringed at the way he sounded. Johnny was intimidating in person. He led the greaser up the staircase, towards the open panel that housed the orrery's rusted, poorly fixed, spider-filled gearbox.
((It's actually hard as hell to find a proper picture of a planetarium gear drive box, but it's something like this))