The Hinge

Dennis's account of a Tuesday afternoon. 

[Stage notes included for context.]

[A demolition pile. Dennis is in it. He is covered in several kinds of dust and appears to be having the time of his life. Maude is standing at the clean edge of the pile in something that nobody will be able to adequately describe. She is not in the pile. This is wise. There was a significant structural event on the left side approximately seven minutes ago.]

So there was this spring.

Well — there was a lot of things first. There was a bracket that was almost exactly right for the thing I've been trying to fix, and a wheel off something I don't know what yet but it's going in the stash because you never know, and a bit of piping that's going to be very useful once I figure out useful for what. But the spring.

He holds up a spring. It is extremely rusty. He is delighted.]

See, the tension on it — I've got this idea for the merry-go-round, and if I can get this to a certain — [he makes a gesture that technically means something specific and sounds like it involves considerable velocity] — the rotational force alone, once you factor in the —

[Something catches the light.]

[Dennis stops.]

Hang on.

[He puts down the spring. He moves three things. He finds a box.]

[The box is small and dark and has been in the pile for some time. The velvet on the outside is mostly gone. It is not, on first inspection, interesting.]

[Dennis opens it anyway. He always opens things.]

[Inside the box is a ring. The ring contains a stone that catches the light the way certain things catch the light — completely, and in all directions at once, and with a sort of confidence about it. The ring is worth considerably more than Dennis will ever think to wonder about.]

                    [Dennis does not look at the ring.]

                                        [Dennis looks at the hinge.]

[The hinge is small. Half-hidden in what remains of the velvet lining. Tiny tubular sections, tight-fitted, hiding what they're capable of until you look properly. Most people would not look properly. Dennis is not most people.]

            But I know a hinge when I see one.

                        They're one of my favourite things.

[He opens and closes the box three times. Slowly. Watching the hinge work.]

[He opens and closes it a fourth time.]

[He opens and closes it a fifth time.]

See, the way it sits flush when it's closed — that's the tolerances on the barrel, right, the tiny tube bits, they have to be exactly — and then when it opens it's smooth, no catch, no — [he opens it again] — and it takes the weight of the lid without — this is a good hinge. This is a really good hinge. Someone made this properly. Someone cared about this hinge and then it ended up in a pile and I found it. That's — that's exactly how that goes, isn't it?

[He opens and closes it twice more.]

[He notices the ring.]

Oh. Yeah, there's that thing in it as well.

[He holds it up. The light does the thing. He turns it.]

[He turns it again.]

[He is quiet for a moment.]

...hm.

[Dennis looks at the ring. He looks at Maude. He looks at the ring. Something slow and certain moves across his face — not complicated, not dramatic, just the simple recognition of a creature who sees what things are and what they're for.]

[He is not thinking about what the ring costs. He has never once in his life thought about what something costs. He thinks about what things are worth. He thinks about what things do.]

[What this thing does is catch the light.]

[He knows someone else who catches the light.]

        Maude?

[He does not stand up. The hinge is in the lid of the box which he is holding. Standing up would complicate the hinge situation.]

[He is, therefore, on his knees in the rubble, looking up.]

                This. I think maybe I found something.

[He holds it up the small distance between them.]

                            You. Might like. I mean.

[Smaller.]

                                        ...possibly?

[Maude looks at it.]

"Oh, DENNIS."

[Dennis's shoulders go up.]

[This is involuntary. It is very fast. It is the specific response of a creature who has heard Oh Dennis his whole life and knows, without thinking, what it usually means. Oh Dennis has meant: put it down. Oh Dennis has meant: what did you do. Oh Dennis is the sound of being the one who gets things wrong.]

[His shoulders are up for approximately half a second.]

"It's BEAUTIFUL."

[His shoulders stop.]

                    I —

[He looks at the thing. He looks at her. He looks at the thing.]

                                    You — you like it?

[Maude takes the ring. She puts it on. The light immediately does the thing, because of course it does, because Maude and the thing were built to do the same thing and now they're in the same place.]

                                                [Thank you, Dennis. I love it. It's magnificent."

[Dennis grins. The full one.]

                                            Called it. I called it. She likes the twinkly thing.

[He is very pleased with himself.]

[He looks down.]

[He looks at the box.]

[He looks at the hinge.]

[He opens and closes it once more.]

                                                    Right. Good. That's — yeah. Good.

[He puts the ring box carefully in his stash of Incredibly Interesting Trashpile Treasures.]

[The hinge sits flush when closed. Opens smooth. No catch. Takes the weight of the lid perfectly.]

[He doesn't put that in the stash.]

[He puts it in his pocket.]

[There are some things you keep on you.]

[Emmet, who has been standing a little apart this whole time, says nothing. Solas, the duck in his pocket, is equally discreet.]

[Dennis is already looking for the spring.]

Technical note, filed for the record: the hinge is a barrel hinge, four-knuckle, brass, with a tight tolerance and a smooth action that suggests quality manufacture. Dennis does not know it is called a barrel hinge. He knows it is one of his favourite things. These are, in the end, the same piece of information.

— E