what is an arguably ridiculous use of a forge

It's almost closing time when a shadow is cast over Cedar's head. When it doesn’t move right away and he fails to grab the right wire with his forceps for the third time, he pipes up. "Ey, you're blockin' my light here." Electrical wires stick out from the console like spaghetti that hasn't spoken to its family in twenty years and wasn’t about to start now. It was hard enough differentiating green from blue with what little sunlight remained at this hour, and now some moron’s gone and made it a lot harder. This is delicate work, damnit. The best outcome is electrocuting himself. The worst is wiring it all wrong and the car exploding when they take it out for a test run, and whoever’s in his way still hasn’t moved. "Hello, I said—"

“Is that any way to talk to a guy you haven’t seen in months? I’m kinda hurt.”

There’s only one guy he knows with a voice like the offspring of an earthquake and a missile blast, and what a coincidence, it’s one that belongs to the only bastard crazy enough to try setting both off at the same time anyways. As far as anyone knows, he’s been unsuccessful at anything on a larger scale, but he continues to trigger small shockwaves in Cedar’s heart whenever he’s near. Even the estranged electrical wires stand straighter when he’s around.

In his excitement, Cedar forgets he’s hunched up to his waist over a car engine, and when he straightens up, he hits his head on a bearing. “Ouch! Ugh…”

An affectionate “idiot” is coupled with two big hands grabbing and lifting him by the waist.

“Heya, Uvo!” Cedar throws his arms around Uvogin’s shoulders and nestles his face into the crook to get his nose right into the thick of that awful stench, a lethal concoction of blood and sweat and home. It honestly reeks, and it’s the most addicting thing he’s ever inhaled. Didn’t he used to think the smell of gasoline was the best thing ever? Man, those were the days, when he was younger and dumber. Now he’s wisened up. Laughing, Cedar crinkles his nose and huffs a dangerous amount into his system, until he’s lightheaded, until he’s replaced all the oxygen in his blood with it, and his heart starts shaking right on cue, starting at a measly 7 point 0 on the Richter scale. If Uvogin kept holding him like this, it might hit a record 10 point 0 and he’d just explode at that point.

Uvogin’s hold on Cedar tightens as he lets the dirt and grease from Cedar’s clothes soak into his own. He likes those brown-black stains on his clothes more than he likes the look of blood spatter from a recent fight, and he likes it even more when the two are mixed. The fight he got into on the way back was boring, but this makes it worth it.

“What’re y’doin’ here? I thought The Boss didn’t want the car ‘til tomorrow, and no offense, but I didn’t expect him to send you to bring it back.”

“Tch, I ain’t the one driving that damn thing. Pakunoda’s fetching it tomorrow as planned.”

“Yeah?” Cedar grins against Uvogin’s skin. “So you’re here for something else then, huh.” This wouldn’t be the first time Uvogin showed up for some TLC. Even the best car needed an oil change now and then.

As much as Uvogin loves having his massive arms wrapped around this punk, and as dire his need for some good old-fashioned buffing, he’s gotta do something first. Setting Cedar down on the edge of the open hood, Uvogin pulls out a small box from his pocket. Call it settling the score—for all the times Cedar made a round trip for the Troupe, or made them a meal way back then, or fought alongside them despite not being a part of the Troupe—or call it sentiment, although it’s unlikely it’s anything more than having no use for belongings when he can just steal what he needs, and knowing that Cedar likes to collect useless things just so he can find a use for them later, it’ll be in better hands with him. 

When Cedar opens up the box and Uvogin watches his eyes widen in confusion, something in his chest beats amiss. It happens again when Cedar removes the ring from the slot to get a better look at it.

The first thing Cedar notices is the shine; silver, a good metal that tarnishes easily when mixed into an alloy with copper. The higher the percentage of purity, the less the chance of oxidizing, but the harder it is to work with, since it’s too soft to make jewelry out of. Of course, with a little bit of varnish anything can look like sterling silver, and can be sold as if it is, but finding anything like that around here that’s real is next to impossible, unless you’re stealing it from the mafia, and even then, Cedar’s tricked them into buying a great deal of accents for their gaudy cars, so the only thing that’s real is that they’re real dumb.

“Did you steal this?”

“Nope.”

It’s a double-ringed band with a diamond surrounded by accents that almost look like gears and the parts of an engine. The diamond lays nestled in an intricate tooth-shaped prong, with side rubies surrounding it and running around the band. The diamond catches the amber light of the sunset and reflects off an object encased within.

“Hey, what’s that in the stone?”

Uvogin crosses his arms. “Can’t you tell? That’s an eye from the Kurta clan.”

Oh shit, he’s right! There’s the pupil, and the iris glitters red with the facets of the diamond. “You guys messed around with them a while ago, didn’t you?”

“Don’t care enough to remember how long it’s been.”

“Kinda cool that it’s been preserved all this time. How’d you get it in the jewel like that?”

“Some dude with a weird Nen ability.”

Cedar is about to ask for more detail on that, because what would the utility of that ability even be (seriously, it’s like the guy was destined to be a jeweler!), but something about the way Uvogin is standing gives him pause. It’s not that he’s doing anything specifically. Uvogin’s an Enhancer, so his emotions are always clearly written on his face, except they’re not this time. He’s trying very hard to appear unfazed by this exchange, yet everything else about his body is tense, with his hairs standing on end and his muscles pulled taut. It’s impatience, which is normal for Uvogin, though it’s a weird kind of impatience that leaves something hanging in the air between them, like that moment after they’d kissed the first time and neither of them knew how to say why they did it, before the moment passed and they kept going. It was after that the both of them fumbled through the words, a hurried ‘I kinda like you’ and an equally hurried ‘Yeah, me too.’ 

He can’t help but grin at this.

Uvogin looks at him curiously.

“Gimme a sec.” Hopping off the car, Cedar runs off to the equipment room. He comes out with a face shield, goggles, and an old chisel and hand mandrel, and scurries into the work room, slamming the door shut behind him. What proceeds is a cacophony of clanging, banging, whirring, and dragging. What the hell is all that noise? Uvogin cracks his knuckles. This is really starting to piss him off.

Cedar returns covered in black dust, and holds out his prosthetic. “Ta-da!”

Uvogin squints. It takes him a moment to see a difference, but when he does, he grabs Cedar by the shirt and shakes him. “You idiot, did you go and forge that into your ring finger?”

Sputtering, Cedar’s cheeks flush bright red. “Shaddup! It’s so it doesn’t get lost, jerk! Besides, now y’gotta be more careful, ‘cause if y’break my arm again, y’might end up breakin’ the ring too!”

“Huh? You think a measly ring is going to stop me from beating the ever-loving crap out of you?”

“Maybe I just wanted to show you how important this is to me, ever thought about that?”

Uvogin laughs. “You’re stupider than I thought! I could get you ten rings just like it!”

Cedar’s face gets redder with the effort of not letting Uvogin’s smile infect him. “If it doesn’t mean anything to you, then why’d y’go and save the eye? You’re so full of shit, Uvo!” Damnit, he cracked.

“I just happened to have it. You’re the one attaching a meaning behind it.”

“I’m attachin’ meaning? You’re the one collectin’ all this junk, and for someone who claims he has no use for belongings, huh?”

Uvogin chuckles. The vibration of it stops Cedar’s heart. “Then what does that make you?”

“Are y’callin’ me a part o’the junk y’collect?” 

“You’re hearing things.”

What a goddamn buffoon. Ugh, it makes his heart ache. And there it goes, it’s at a whopping 12 point 0. He’s trembling from how much energy is thrumming in his veins, happiness warming him despite the sun setting a while ago. He doesn’t want to explode now, because if he does, then he won’t get to live in this moment, where Uvogin saved an eye that’s worth a billion Jeni just for him, and found someone with a specific Nen ability that would encase it in another jewel, and waited to give it to him, all while pretending this is merely another piece of junk that he’s tossing Cedar’s way even as he grew impatient waiting to hear Cedar’s thoughts on it.

Cedar hides his face against Uvogin’s chest. The bastard doesn’t deserve the satisfaction of seeing him smiling from ear to ear. “You really are a jerk.”

Uvogin wraps his arms around Cedar, pulling him closer. “Stop messing around, already.”

“Y’want something, y’come and get it.”

If that’s how the little punk wants to play it, then that can be easily arranged. Uvogin pins Cedar to the engine, a dangerous grin on his face. “I’ll make you regret that.”

Raising a brow, Cedar retorts back, “I doubt it.”

The only thought on Cedar’s mind after that is he’s glad the shop is closed for the night.