[not a ship]
Equius had started making the arm without Vriska asking. This was usually how projects for Vriska went; something bad would happen, and Equius would pick up the pieces for her, and Vriska wouldn't mention it even once.
He was used to this process. In fact, he really didn't mind it. Especially this time.
This time Vriska wasn't in a position to ask for anything.
"Hey."
"Hay."
The air was damp with despondency. Vriska's body dragged itself to Equius' work bench, where she perched herself up in the only empty space in front of him. Her legs pressed into her chest and she stared at Equius's hands as they fiddled away.
Her hand reached out and tapped on the stainless steel arm, "Is th8t for me?" her voice choked in her throat.
Equius glanced over his glasses. His chair creaked loudly as he relaxed his body, "Who else would it be for?"
Vriska rolled her eyes, but didn't push to argue. Instead she curled in on herself, away from the arm.
"I don't w8nt that."
"Vriska-"
"I don't w8nt to w8ar it, you shouldn't b8 m8king it at all."
The air grew thicker. Equius reset his position, going back to work on the arm anyway. The issue at hand wasn't if she deserved the arm or not, but if Equius still believed she wasn't as terrible as she had been presenting herself.
And he did; he had known her longer than everyone else, from the moment she settled into her hive to when she was running off to play with her friends for the last time. Equius felt, on some level, that he was the only one who still understood her.
He focused his attention on screwing a joint into place, glancing up only as Vriska let out a sigh and a string of incoherent rambling about Tavros. Equius didn't stop her; if she found comfort in complaint, then he wouldn't ruin that. The arm would be done soon anyway.
