[ credence would be so heartbroken if he knew. will be, when graves tells him that there's no helping him. his entire existence now hinges on being something more, on feeling like he's worth something, on having something outside of mary lou's iron grip on him. something, something, something. (nothing, nothing, nothing.)

but he doesn't know right now, only knows what graves promises, what keeps him going. he still startles slightly whenever graves appears like that, a flurry of movement and magic. it's fascinating. credence drops his hands to his sides, almost at his back, hiding them away. is it weak to let mary lou do this to him or good to behave? he still doesn't know.

graves has asked him a question. credence shakes his head, chewing on his lip and glancing away. ] No... Mister Graves, I need more time. None of them are showing any of the signs you told me to look for. I don't know why any of them would have wanted to hurt the newspaperman, either. None of them... ever came into contact with him. [ but graves knows that the barebones did. that his sisters did. that his youngest sister is the right age. that he called them freaks. graves doesn't know that he specifically said it to credence, that he'd shoved the word into his face, that his sister had quietly watched from behind him.

credence thinks about this quietly, his brows furrowed. he has to say it. he has to prove he's worth the time graves is putting into him. ] I'm sorry. Please, just a little more time. I'm trying my best. I might... I might have an idea but... I just need to make sure first. Let me watch them closely one more day.

[ mary lou's soup kitchen is not open again until day after tomorrow. how is he going to watch the child? ]