[ Cid nods, taking the words for what they are... an offer to let him back away from this edge. He doesn't say anything in response, just puts a hand on Viktor's shoulder briefly — a silent thanks, not just for this, but for the kindness.

He picks up the Orchestrion roll, tucks it into the machine, and starts it himself with a brush of his fingers and a scattering of levin.

The music starts. There are no words, just the sounds of various instruments picking their way through a familiar tune. He steps back, leaning his hip against a workbench, his arms folded across his chest. His expression is more puzzled than anything. ]

I shouldn't have this. [ He says, after a long moment. ] I left this Orchestrion roll for Midadol. I...

[ Midadol.

All at once, the memories flood back. His gaze snaps to the parts still spread out on the table. ] ...She was ten when she built that. [ The original was bigger, but that hardly seems to matter now. The words seem to come out of him in a rush, like an anecdote he's repeated a thousand times. ] She stole all of the parts, drove everyone mad for weeks trying to find the culprit, then she got me out of bed to see it in the middle of the night. I was so... [ The sound that comes out of him could be called a laugh if there wasn't so much pain in it. ] Proud of her. My brilliant girl.

[ He puts a hand over his mouth, blinking away the blurriness of tears. ]