Annoy

"Almost, Mr. E!" Toby chirped, followed by a wet, clicking sound as he popped a piece of gum. "Just making sure I get into the nooks. And the crannies. Can't forget the crannies." Snap.

Elias lived for silence. As a professional watchmaker, his world was measured in microns and the nearly imperceptible snick-snick of escapement wheels. He was currently in the final hour of restoring a 19th-century Breguet, a piece of mechanical poetry so delicate that a heavy sneeze could ruin a week's work. Then came the whistling. "Almost, Mr

Elias closed his eyes, counting to ten. A magnet on a mechanical watch was like a flamethrower in a library. "Just... go to lunch, Toby. For three hours." And the crannies

"Toby," Elias called out, his voice a low vibration of restrained irritation. "The solvent. Is it applied?" As a professional watchmaker, his world was measured

"No," Elias whispered, standing up. "It is the slow, methodical erosion of another person's sanity. It is a whistle that doesn't know its own tune. It is gum that sounds like a wet boot in a swamp. It is the destruction of a three-thousand-dollar hairspring."