“Oh, hey Quarters,” the Repairman said, nodding to the kid as he turned back to the Wall. “How’s it goi–” He stopped, looking back at him. “Something’s different…Did you get a haircut or something?”
“Uh, no? How can I get a haircut Inky I’m a ghost!” Quarters replied, tilting his head slightly. He leaned sideways to peer at the Wall behind Inky, and suddenly lit up and started dashing over, bouncing a bit on his toes as he got close.
“That looks fun! Hey can I help? I can hand you tools or something! I’m really bored over here and the guys don’t wanna play with me. Well maybe Mini would but I can’t find him. Ooooh what does that doohickey do?” he rambled excitedly, pointing to some contraption that defied definition.
“True…” the Repairman nodded, uncertainly. “I swear, there’s something different about you, though.”
He shrugged it off, and took a look at his workload.
“N-no, I’m fi– Oh, you could do that, I gue– Huh?”
The inkblot turned his eyes to see what Quarters was talking about. His gaze fell on what looked like a rounded metal “Y”.
“Oh, that’s a tuning fork,” he shrugged. “You can have it if you want.”
He picked it up and struck it against a nearby table. It resonated very satisfyingly.
“…It’s one of the few tools I haven’t found a use for…” he muttered, before handing it to the ghost.
Siblings-a-Fixin' 