The Girl Who Spits Up Jewels

It was the sound of the water that woke Crewe, Pi.

Face up. I was falling asleep and for a moment I didn't know where I was - but I look at the machining room at night and Sputnik and I remember that I was in the middle of producing it. I remember drying the clay to the point where I put it in the furnace, but when they said "take a break" and I was stuck in my chair, I seemed to fall asleep.

Are you awake?

Sputnik in the seat across the street is frying the work from a bowl that draws water. I guess I was chilling the burned pieces. It was probably the sound that caused the crew.

Crewe stepped out and peered into his hand.

"Did you do it? Silver, are you ready?

"Damn you, if you're sleepy, go back to your room and get some sleep."

"I'm not sleepy anymore. Silver, are you ready?"

I could easily have imagined that he would have a frightened look on his face, so I didn't ask. Instead, see what the work featured in the cloth towel looks like. Neat, I peeked expecting something with sparkling beautiful silverwork, but it was supposed to be silver. That was white and shineless against expectations.

Ooh, thinking, Sputnik stood up sighing at her posture.

"Tomorrow, you're lacking. … the rest is done if you polish it"

And from the drawer of the shelf, I come back with some things like a large toothbrush and some cloth. He gave one of the brushes to Crewe, then placed the piece in front of her, which had become like a white rabbit.

But polishing is. Is it okay with the toothbrushing procedure? But if you rub it too hard, you can't scratch it or break it at its worst - all sorts of anxieties are past and you can't touch it poorly. Crewe saw Sputnik trying to ask what was appropriate, then.

"... aah"

Sputnik shrugged.

The voice seems tired somewhere and the eyes looking at the picked up ring are bitterly distorted for some reason. Was there anything inconvenient? By my side, the ring looked beautifully baked though.

"What's wrong?"

"No, it's nothing. Anyway, rub it, 'cause it's gonna be silver."

Sputnik rubbed "like this" to show when he brushed his work. That gesture is rougher than I thought. They don't break even with a somewhat messy treatment. imitate it and brush it with a brush that was once clay. and eventually a dull silver peek from under the white.

Be happy and raise your voice unexpectedly.

"Silver."

"That's silver clay. Beautifully polished."

The face of the dried roasted ravioli shrunk slightly more than when it was clay. Still, before firing, thanks to the carving of the eyes, nose and mouth into the dried product, it is more 'apparent' than it was when it was a jellyfish with two legs. I was glad to get closer to the slightly inappropriate and contemplative shape, and Krew laughed, eheh.

- Eventually, when Crewe was able to polish more than half the charm.

Sputnik, who was putting the ring in the light, said it was as pompous as I remembered.

"I'm going to be closed tomorrow afternoon"

Let's just say force majeure has stopped my hand.

Even when we talked about this, his eyes were looking straight at the ring.

"Right."

I forgot because of it, but I didn't have to bother reminding you. I think I hit him like that, but it's the wrong thing to do with him. Remember the emotions you can't do to tightening chest pain and look down. What Sputnik would say to her like that.

"So, I thought I'd give you some time."

The bent face rose naturally.

Stare at Sputnik. I finally realized that he was looking at the ring now, not concentrating, but like a big father-in-law not to look at Crewe. Without turning to her, with a less discouraging voice, continue pale.

"I guess it would be best to return it there if I had a local area, but I can't do that either... for a few days, somewhere safe. If only you were from the Jewellery Chamber."

"It's not good."

I didn't think I needed to hear it until the end.

Block, cut and throw away. And, finally, he turned this way. It must be an illusion to feel that the ashes are darker than usual. Even if it wasn't an illusion, there was no reason to pull all this off.

Don't wait for him to say something, it overlaps even more.

"I don't know, did you think I'd say I was good? That's more surprising."

"I thought it would be..."

If I wanted to get him out of here somewhere, I was willing to resist even on the pillars of the store. but they didn't have to be so intent. He grinned all the time as he polished the ring with a paper-shaped jar (yasled), giving up that persuasion from the beginning.

"I didn't think my poor daughter would allow such accommodation from the beginning. So instead, I thought I'd ask you to make one promise."

"Promise?"

Surprisingly, repeat. What the hell am I supposed to let myself do - think so, I shouldn't have put a half-way force into my hand while I was holding the piece.

Shortly afterwards, in my hand, I felt bad.

I don't want to admit it. I hate to admit it - but at the same time, I think it sounded strange. Fear, when you do your gaze at hand, there is a deep, black muscle near the base of the ear of the rabbit.

"Oh."

When I let go of my hand, my right ear, burst off.

The raised voice turned out to be terribly sad. I can't believe the silver broke. I didn't mean to grip it so hard, but I look at Sputnik thinking. He was laughing bitterly.

"Too bad. Wasn't the firing halfway through or the thickness constant... now that's a common failure"

"Failure"

Sooner or later, your lips will have strength. To such a crew, Sputnik grinned shards.

"Don't snap."

"Because."

I'd rather not worry about it than talk about it. But he just laughs.

"You're not the only one who makes fun of me. Look at that."

I wonder what you would say to look at. I manage to get my face up, even though it's a bad one. What he was pointing this way was the back of his own hand.

Crewe muttered, that, because he saw the little finger.

Sitting there was that ring that had just gone silver earlier. - But. It was supposed to go down to the base of his, the conspicuously long finger of the verse, the pinky finger, which had stopped over the second joint. For him to use, the size is too small.

Blink unexpectedly. He seemed uninterested in her reactions and so on, and when he pulled it out of his own fingers he began to brush it again.

"The Failure" shines beautifully like a mirror in his hands with the friction of a

"After a while I did it, I got the wrong percentage of contractions. Well, that's common."

"What are you going to do, it"

"I don't have a choice, I'll sell it at the store for discarded value. I just have to rebuild what's for me. You just hope someone buys it.... yes, we need to find a stone to fit in this"

I wonder if there was any good stock. Sputnik got up when he put the ring on his desk, turned his back on this one, and walked over to the stoned shelf.

- At that time.

It's just an idea that I wanted to try to do that. Not that I had any desire to be, but I would never have been depressed if I hadn't. So Crewe was special then, never that he expected anything from it.

Still a little concerned.

When Crewe stood up in the chair, he reached out and drew the ring toward himself for each cloth he laid. With the addition or subtraction of light, the colours reflected on the mirror surface move slowly. When I pulled closer, I also understood the fine design. Beautiful called a failure, it shines well in the warm lights of the ocean lamps, whatever the glossy slight difference depending on the part because it is in the middle of polishing.

Lift the ring and watermark it to the light. And I'll insert it into my left middle finger.

Then.

"... wah"

Coincidentally, it fitted perfectly into her fingers, as it was addressed to.

It's not too tight, it's not too loose, and it's as big as it was for Crewe from the beginning. The design, which used many curves, was terribly delicate and still seemed to flourish on her thin middle finger without the stone.

"Nice."

Place your free right hand on your cheek. An exclamation sigh leaked with words.

Sputnik, who listened to the whine, looks back at it like he said something, with the drawer supported. But he also seemed to have guessed why, given that Crewe was spreading his own hand in a way that surprised him, and that there was an example ring on her finger at the end of her gaze. I say as I was impressed, taking out one small box.

"Heh. That suits you well."

I don't know if that's about the size or the compatibility of Crewe with the ring though. Either way, her mind was already set.

Pull your hand against his chest with the ring in place, point it at him, and tell him.

"Me, this, I'll buy"

"You?

Surprise, Sputnik's eyelid rises slightly.

But if it's for sale, it's definitely in someone's hands. What the hell is the problem there if the buyer of it happens to be an employee of the store? Crewe nodded deeply.

"Yes, how much will you sell it for"

"Right..."

When Sputnik closed the shelf, he held the small box in one hand, put his arms together, looked up at the dim ceiling and roared. He blurted for a while that he hadn't even decided on the price, the cost of the materials, the design fee, and - as a result, what did he come up with, he laughed and shook with a mockery.

And the 'cost' of the ring that looks to Krew and tells him.

"Fine. My luxury is fine."

"What?"

I was momentarily delayed in understanding because the words returned were completely unexpected.

Even though it is a failure, the material is sterling silver and the design is also fine. Just because it didn't fit his fingers, it is a fine ornament that has nothing to do with itself. So I was prepared that if I were to sell it, I would be a substitute that could give me that much value.

And yet, luxury is fine, I can't believe it.

I take his face seriously back, but he didn't seem to be joking. But later on, I can't wait to be told, "That's a lie," etc. Repeat just in case.

"Is that okay? Can I really have it?"

"I don't mind. Look, which stone is better. Take what you like."

Go around the desk and come next to her left. A small box offered at the same time as any unmistakable reply contained several jewels the size of which just fitted into this stone frame. The colors are all bright in the eyes, green in blue, red, and yellow, and varied.

One of them was a clear red stone.

"... this"

It was nothing else that attracted me to it. Because it looked a lot like the earrings stone that Crewe loved to use. One ear earrings, once given to me by Sputnik.

I looked at Sputnik, pointing at that red stone.

"This stone, it looks like my earrings"

"Yeah?... Ah, right. That stone is the same as that one, Garnet."

I knew it, I was convinced. The design of this ring, I think, is somewhere similar to that one. Naturally, it's all made by him.

Similar atmospheric rings and earrings, if aligned, would surely be nice.

"I like this"

"Right. Then lend me a little."

And the palm is offered. Crewe removed the ring and placed it on top of it. I remember some remnants of fame, but soon they'll come back to me again. Sputnik takes the box and the ring and returns to the seat where he sat until earlier. "Let's just finish him off," he restarted polishing.

Rare, unconnected eyes that reflect small rings picked on boneless fingers. If you looked at yourself with that eye, how happy - and so on and so on and so on and so boring, his work goes on and on. Eventually, when the whole thing had a uniform mirror, she attached her chosen red to the empty stone clasp. Tidy the whole thing with a cloth containing chemicals in the finish to see how it gets closer to the light.

And Sputnik smiled contentedly.

"Done"

Crewe desperately contained the urge to take the ring away from his hand.

In his hands, silver nestled to protect a grain of red. It was just clay until earlier. That's it! If you describe the beauty, the emotion, what will it convey? Every word that comes to mind seems stale somewhere, and I learn to turn back on my lack of vocabulary. I try to shake my arms big enough to represent that I can't represent, but that also only helped to the extent that it made him laugh.

"Um, uh,"

"What are you rambling about?"

"Because, because, it's amazing. The ring, it's amazing. It's beautiful."

I resent myself for only throwing up such clichés. But the thoughts and thoughts seem to have been properly drawn from this man, who has a bad personality but is smart.

The evidence made my voice a little soft saying things.

"Thank you, decorator.... Here, hand it out"

"Yes. Yes."

Nod, put the same left hand on the offered left hand. His hand held Krew's hand lightly and his heart bounced about the feeling. Sputnik, on the other hand, who is used to buying, selling and handling rings, gently approaches her thin fingers with a picked ring in her right hand, without moving. And eventually, her fingertips touch the ring...

But that, in the last minute.

Somehow, my hand with his ring stopped.

I wonder what's wrong. Look at the ring and wait, but after all this time, your fingertips won't twist the ring. Looking up at Sputnik in surprise, he wasn't looking at her. The expression has no joy or discomfort, and the eyes are out of focus. Hi, they're thinking of something.

"Mr. Sputnik?

"I'll give you this ring. So."

Calling his name, he finally opened his mouth.

It's just that the thing is terribly heavy. his hand holding the ring, slightly away from Crewe, he said.

"... jump out in front of me. Stop that."

And exhaled deeply, like a heartbroken.

"That's not enough, no matter how many hearts you have."

I couldn't remember right away what you meant.

I've stood in front of him many times, both at work and in private matters, but I guess that's not what he's trying to say. Does popping up mean surprise - think that far and finally tie in with past memories? What he's saying is yesterday, when Crewe stood in front of the magic girl? To shelter him from the magic girl, who was hurt by the magic girl's attack.

And that's also what he called the promise he made earlier? I can see the mood exalted by the ring, calming down.

- Then when he finds himself in that situation again. Do I tell you to watch him get hurt in silence in front of you?

"But"

"You know."

So protested, but stopped because his voice, which blocked him, was slow and deep and calm. No anger, no scolding, just something you can afford to preach a natural fact. In it, only the same confidence as usual is filled.

"I'm not gonna die no matter what. You're the one who stuck with me. That might not kill you if you get piled into your heart, but still, if your heart stops at the boulder, you'll die. You want to kill me?

That's not true. Shaking his head wide left and right, he nodded all the time to get my will.

Bring her the ring you picked on her right hand, again. Silver, polished as a mirror, returned the light, as if laughing at her worries. Like I said, what are you up to?

"Then trust me. I'm just a little caught off guard in the meantime, no second time. There's never going to be anything to make you anxious anymore, and I'm not going to die no matter what. So never again, don't imitate anything like popping up in front of an enemy. If that's what you can swear, I'll give you this. - Or what? Can't I trust you? Am I weak enough to live without your protection?"

Someone who is dull, appropriate, sloppy, and doesn't know where the real thing is. But again and again, it is this man who has saved her, comforted her, and made her stand here now, and again, no other.

How can such a thing be that this man is weak on the shore of arrogance, unsatisfactory, and more confident and concerned than anyone else?

"That's not true."

"I would."

Sputnik's hand, which supports her left hand, presses into force, just in case.

And he asked, whispering.

"Then can you swear?"

There are too many things missing to believe in all of this guy who doesn't have good behavior, behavior, or personality. But only his strength is the unquestionable truth.

So Crewe nodded deeply. Nodded, answered.

"I swear."

- But.

I wonder why. He didn't seem satisfied with the answer.

Frowning, pulling lips, creating a strange look where discomfort and bitter laughter have coincided. I let my gaze wander restlessly like I said something, and the decisions I made as a result,

"No. Let's not"

"What?"

Unexpectedly, there was a barbaric voice. Does that mean stop giving me the ring, or what? I think back to my own words and actions as to whether I had done something out of line with his mind, but I honestly just admitted to Sputnik's decision. Then why?

I turn my head desperately as I gaze at my left hand, which remains supported.

but in conclusion, that seemed like a useless effort. Sputnik stroked her head, pompous, with his hand still picking the ring.

"I won't do that again. Can you promise me that?

And again, repeat the same thing as earlier.

I'm not sure what I 'stopped' from doing, but the question itself doesn't even seem to make sense behind it. So surprisingly, Crewe nodded and answered, as he had done earlier.

"Yes."

"Fine then. - Thank you for your purchase."

Then this time, the earlier reluctance was as light as a lie, and he put it in her finger.

Garnet rings that are not too scarce for design or size. Sputnik moved his left hand slightly to look around at her fingers and ring and let go when he made sure there was no deficiency. With the warmth away, Crewe learned some loneliness, but he doesn't seem to be interested in that ring anymore, bumping up from the chair and saying, "Well, I caught my guard the first time, but not the second time," etc. I didn't even know what you were talking about.

But what the hell did he hesitate to do?

Sputnik is opening the shelves and pulling out some tools again. Wanting to know his sincerity, staring at him, he noticed his gaze. Keep the hand you put in the shelf, he just turned his face this way.

When he meets Crewe, he distorts his cheeks just a little, smiles softly, and.

I said the answer to her question.

"To a child like you, 'The Ring of Oath' is still early"