Dreary eyes stared up at the clock. Maxwell hadn't gotten any sleep this night, and it was beginning to feel like the longest night of his life. In fact, he was starting to lose motivation. This scared him -- he thought he would never be considering just giving up and going to sleep.

His arm swept across his forehead, wiping the sweat off. Hours of work, and all he had to show for it was a leg. While it was better than nothing, at this rate, Nova wouldn't be finished in the near future. Letting out a soft sigh, Max adjusted his lamp. The light reflected off the scattered, broken metal and into his eyes. Squinting, Max picked up a few gears from his table. He heard the door open, a rush of wind making him shiver. Behind the door was none other than the girl who destroyed Nova. She was timid, nervous, and no doubt terrifed, but she felt that she needed to help out the inventor. It only seemed fair.

Maxwell didn't even need to turn around to figure out who it was. She was the only person who even had the audacity to visit him, after he's clearly stated several times he doesn't want to be bothered by anyone. He gently placed down the gears, letting his fingers slide off of them. He turned his head so he could peer over his shoulders, sending a deathly glare towards the door. The girl tried her best to smile, but the gesture wasn't returned.

"What do you want?" he hissed, clenching his fists at the end of the table.

"I want to help," she pouted. 

"I thought I told you --"

 Maxwell was far too frustrated to even think of finishing the sentence.

The End

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