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"Everyone on this island is a ********' psychopath," he said. "Smart money is on either a puerile, gloating dominance display if we're lucky, or a degenerate act of psychological sadism if we aren't." He gingerly tried to move a brick, and paused when the tower shuddered. "Shut up," he added. "Distracting me is clearly cheating."

He replaced the brick and looked like he was going to be sick.

"See, I don't know," he said, trying to be nonchalant and actually succeeding as he placed another tile, "whether to be relieved that they didn't stick me in a golem for this one, or nervous." At least whatever happened to the golem wasn't permanent, psychological scars notwithstanding.

That sudden sharkish grin manifested at her when she made the tower wobble, but that wasn't what tripped him up now. It was, unfairly, a sudden boom overhead that made the room tremble just as he went to place his brick.

"This is such bullshit," he whispered, shoulders loosening a bit as the tower steadied.

"Stacking the odds against us," he said grimly. "Just like real life."

He started to pick up another brick, and waited for the air to settle.

You're doing very well, said Fiona soothingly. He snorted before he realized Peyton wouldn't be able to hear what had brought that on, and made his move decisively to cover the fumble.

He wasn't doing so badly himself, relaxing a bit. Sometimes his hands weren't traitorous, and maybe today was going to be one of those days. So this was all down to structural integrity.

He took an obnoxiously long time before he finally made his move, but when he did the tower held.

"I feel like my blood pressure's up twenty points," he groused.

"Did you know," he said conversationally, "that the first doctor to ever perform a heart catheterization," (and apparently mention of blood pressure had brought this little fact to mind, and maybe having something like this to talk about helped him focus) "did it to himself. Everyone was sure you'd die if you did it, and he was sure you wouldn't. He cut open his arm, ran the tube halfway down, and then walked downstairs to the X-ray department and ran it the rest of the way into his heart with a fluoroscope. They gave him a Nobel prize." He extracted a brick as he spoke in level, distracted words, as quiet as always, and waited for the alarming wobble to cease. "They fired him, though," he added, as he replaced it.

"J. B. S. Haldane," he continued tranquilly, distracted, "was his own test subject for the effects of extreme underwater pressure on divers and submarines. He crushed his vertebrae and repeatedly ruptured his eardrum. He said it was OK," the brick was extracted neatly, with nary a wobble, "because it typically healed up, and if it didn't, you could blow cigarette smoke through it and impress people at social functions."

Success. "I bring this up because I am trying to convince myself there's wisdom in being one's own guinea pig. We still don't know what happens when this thing collapses."

"Now it's your turn," he said. "Impress me with something interesting. Wait until I'm done with this turn, though," he added, as he carefully maneuvered out a brick, winced hard when the room trembled again, and then balanced it on top.