[Certainly so. Grimm did not often hear those clicks unless something was going on. He had remarked they were cute one day (they were!) and naturally the Pale King avoided doing it around him afterwards. But it was a sound that Grimm associated him with, the clicks of machines and the grind of buzz saws and pure white. The Troupe Master was 'louder' in color and sound but the Pale King held a sort of attraction that was difficult to resist.

Like moths to the flame but for once Grimm was the moth that would inevitably be consumed.

Joints creek and pop as the Troupe Master moves so he is actually in the correct position. He naturally cannot do anything about the ceiling's height and still has to bend down but at least he is not looking at everything upside down.]

You are emoting far more then usual. [A more serious tone, a sign Grimm is no longer joking.] I like to think I know you well enough to see the signs when something is on your mind, dear Wyrm.

[It's not physical. Injuries were difficult to judge, given the Pale King's inability to express pain, and there were no signs that he had not eaten or slept for a long time.

So only one other thing remained. Penny for your thoughts, Pale King?]