As Poppy walked through his doorway, Wink couldn't help but feel nervous. He didn't exactly know why- it was just a bowl of stew, after all- but he wanted to make sure he gave her the best.
While Poppy was busy taking her seat, he quickly took the lid off the cauldron and added in a couple more spoonfuls of cream and a pinch of salt. He ladled the stew, now sufficiently creamy and savory, into two bowls and carefully carried them over. As he sat down, he plopped his down in front of him, but eased hers toward her gently, as if expecting it to blow up in her face at any second.
Poppy looked down at the bowl and then at him, her eyes scrunched a little.
"How do I eat this...stew?"
He pushed a knife and spoon over to her.
"Sorry, forgot the utensils. Here- just use the knife to pick out the good bits-" he gently closed her fingers around the knife and made it spear a chunk of potato, "and once you can't find anymore good bits, you can use the spoon over there," he pointed to the proper utensil, "to drink the runny stuff. Or you can do what I do and just slurp it down." He picked up his bowl and did exactly that, causing a weak smile to flutter to her face.
"So pick out the good bits..." she speared another one, this time a chunk of chicken, and delicately, carefully, put it between her lips and took it off the knife.
clang
The knife dropped to the table, startling Wink and shooting a pang of worry through him.
"I'm- I'm awful sorry, Poppy, I know it's not that g-"
He stopped mid-sentence as he saw her face, streaming tears with an expression of not sadness, but-
She took another bite, this time much less hesitantly, and chewed and swallowed that one, too, her tears now spilling into her bowl. Faster and faster now, she ate every bite of the stew and when it was finished, she simply stared at it, still silently crying as the flavor of the dish lingered and slowly faded, like the caress of a love she'd never know.
That settled things.
Wink sat up in his chair, leaned over the table, and held her free hand. He waited patiently until she wiped her eyes and focused on his.
"Poppy, I don't want this to be the last thing we do." He licked his lips and resisted the urge to dart his eyes away. This was hard, probably the hardest thing he'd even done. "I want you to come over every day like this, not just to help me with farm work, but..." she gazed at him, unshed tears hanging in her eyes like iridescent pearls, "I enjoy talkin' with you. I enjoy bein' with you, and-"
Just say it, say you've gone and done it, you've fallen head over heels for her, and-
"- and so I was really hopin' you'd come with me to the Inventor's Fair tomorrow."
Coward.
She wiped the last of the moisture from her eyes and nodded, then got up and ran over to him, wrapping her arms around him in a massive hug.
"Take me away from it all," she whispered without words as she shook with silent sobs, "and tell me what we're doing."
Wink wanted to tell her right then, he wanted to be her knight, wanted to scoop her up in his arms and bring her somewhere safe, slay the dragon that haunted the halls of her imagination-
But he was just as clueless as her.
And so he did the next best thing.
He let her in.
The next morning was a blur of frantic activity as Wink sped through his daily chores- he needed enough time to bathe, wash his Sunday Finest, and get as snazzy as possible. It was the day of the Inventor's Fair, and he wanted to make sure Poppy had the time of her life.
As he got ready for the day, his thoughts turned to the things he had planned. He'd not gone to the fair since his mother used to take him, but he knew where the regulars were at and what each of them sold, and he wanted to take her to every one.
After that happened, he would take the small amount of money he'd carefully saved and bring her to the food stalls, where they sold candied fruit and nuts and massive shanks of beef. He especially looked forwards to the latter- it felt like a century since he'd tasted red meat.
His early morning chores done and his body cleaned and stuffed into an ill-fitting suit, he made his way down to Ole Beth's pen and waited for Poppy to show up.
Right on cue, as soon as he carefully leaned against the fence post, Poppy came down the road, full speed ahead as always, and skipped to a stop in front of him, only lightly panting.
"I'm here," she said. Her cheeks were rosy, her skin, normally pale, virtually glowing as she caught her breath. "Sorry I don't have anything nicer to wear, father doesn't see the need in a change of wardrobe." Wink shook himself from his reverie and rubbed the back of his neck.
"You look pretty 'nough," he half-coughed. He both hoped and didn't hope she heard him.
She did.
Machines and men. Intermingling, yet separate- communicating, but not fraternizing.
In the distance, a female voice calls out, and a child runs after it, only to see something that will haunt him for the rest of his life.
A cruel irony, that the setting of his greatest nightmare becomes the setting of the one thing that can save him.
"Wink?"
Wink shook himself and refocused his eyes. "Y-yes, Poppy?"
She looked at him with more than a little concern, but then smiled it away and pointed at a nearby stall, where a man was selling wind-up songbirds. A couple of them were already flying about his head, no doubt to advertise their abilities. Tinny chirps emanated from their throats at regular intervals, reminding him of the cat Poppy brought.
"Ah, yes, that's Tomathy. He specializes in small flying things, like songbirds and insects. you wanna take a look?"
She nodded excitedly, and he took hold of her hand, guiding her over to the small crowd of people already gathering around his stall.
This comprised most of their morning- Poppy would see something new, ask about it, and he'd tell her what he knew, or perhaps they'd both simply watch in wonder as the shopkeepers' intricate creations flew or sang or even held conversations with them, and despite himself, Wink began to relax and even started enjoying the sights and sounds of the fair.
This isn't so bad, he thought as they visited yet another stall, this one selling mechanical dogs you could teach tricks to, maybe this can be OK.
Before long, half the day had gone by, and Wink's stomach growled loudly, causing Poppy to burst into a fit of giggles. He pulled out his coin purse and raised his eyebrows, nodding at a nearby firepit housing the largest spit of sizzling beef he'd ever seen. He felt himself smile at what her reaction would be.
"You know, Wink, I think that's the first time I've ever seen you smile," Poppy said as she accepted her portion. They made their way to one of the rough-hewn tables scattered throughout the plaza and sat down.
"Really?" Wink was surprised at this. "I guess I've just felt happy lately." He smiled again, surprised at how quickly the action had become easy again. It felt strange, but he decided he wouldn't mind doing it more often.
Harsh voices, dripping with command and thinly-veiled malice.
"Wink,"
They'd started to walk away with him, his mother thrown to the side like an afterthought.
"Hey, Wink, isn't that one of father's mechanical-"
And yet...
He stood up and began to walk towards them, wondering, teasing. perhaps they'll see me, perhaps they'll remember and show me where they've kept him all this time
The men marched towards him. It was something he'd wanted his whole life, to be recognized for his work, to show all the naysayers and dead weight, his wife, his child...he was something special, and they would all know it soon enough.
They approached him with distinct coldness, his status as a burden confirmed by their mild annoyance at the task before them. Perhaps a few of them had emotions, perhaps even families, but years of performing this trifle for the ones left by the wayside left them nigh-indifferent.
"Wink?" The female voice was faint, searching for him in the vast sea of people. It was younger, more scared than he remembered. Some vicious, dark part of him was glad. see how you like it.
"Are you Mr. Hardly?" There were more words following this, but his heartbeats drowned the rest out.
"I guess so, now."
"Wink! Where are you? Help me!" That female voice now, closer than before. For a brief moment, he emerged, gasping, just long enough.
"Your father's body has been found. He wanted you to have this." A small object was shoved into his hands, and they turned away, their chore finished. Wink opened the tattered paper.
"Wink! There you are!" Poppy crashed into him, trapping him with her arms. He gasped, his mind stuck between her and the past. He looked down at the object, then back at her. Tears were streaking down her face, and she was sobbing, loudly and desperately.
"My father wants me back at the house," she sobbed, shoving a piece of paper in his face, "and he's angry, see? Oh wink, you have to help put him in his place! He's- he's going to make me do chores again, and lock me in my room..."
Wink gazed down at this child and allowed one final smile to drift across his features.
"Don't worry. We'll get things sorted out."
He wrapped his father's legacy back up, put it in his back pocket for later, and took hold of her hand as gently as he could force himself to, pulling her along as he picked his way through the crowd.
I'm on my way, father. I'll catch up with you soon.