This damn clock, why are they always so difficult when he is around.

The old haggard clock-maker hunched over a bench. The man in the dark clock is sitting in the corner waiting.

The clock-maker is struggling with this piece.

He must get it working, it is no longer a matter of payment, but one of pride.

He has never found a clock that he could not keep running and he’ll be damned if this one is going to beat him.

The man in the cloak stood and strode over, just as the last gear is dropped in place and the release flipped. The clock began ticking again.

The cloaked man smiled at the clock-maker.

“One day, you will not be able to fix it.. the parts, maybe. Or your skill will fail, I imagine.”

The clock-maker smiled as the still grinning the man walked back to the corner, flipped up his hood, retrieved his scythe, and stepped through the wall.