Julian’s mouth shifts slightly.
“I have not looked at it long enough yet.”
Theo seems to approve of that answer.
Julian points toward the wheel.
“What do you think is happening when it stops?”
Theo leans down until his face is almost level with the model. He does not answer immediately. Instead, he turns the wheel slowly and watches the string tighten.
“I think it gets too tight.”
“Why?”
Theo turns it again.
“Because this part pulls before that part moves.”
Julian reaches toward the model, then stops.
“Can I?”
Theo nods.
Julian touches the edge of the platform and moves it carefully.
“What if this side is catching before the weight shifts?”
Theo watches closely.
“So it is not the string?”
“It could still be part of it.”
Theo frowns.
“That is annoying.”
Julian gives a quiet laugh.
“Usually.”
Theo reaches for one of the plastic connectors and turns it between his fingers before replacing it in a different position. Julian does not correct him or reach over to fix it himself. He waits.
I watch them from the sofa. There is something strange about seeing Julian this way. Not because he looks out of place on my living room floor, but because he does not.
Theo tries the wheel again. The platform rises another inch before catching.
Theo looks at Julian. “Better.”
“Better.”
“Not fixed.”
“No.”
Theo takes the model apart at the corner he has been studying and rearranges two pieces. Julian watches him with an expression I recognize immediately. That same focused stillness. The same patience before action.