The little TweetBird blinks smugly. He'd flash an evil smile, if not for the limitations of having a totally rigid beak.

She glares at him. He drops another inch. "No." Another inch.

"You stop that this instant, mister," she threatens, getting up from the couch. "Or we're going to have a very, big problem."

Cog, indifferent to the suffering of mere mortals and their petty requests, turns his beak up with a smug air... And drops another inch.

Clock tries a something different. "Cog, old buddy, old pal..." she starts. Cog, sensing her thinly veiled attempt, lowers himself again.

"OK, seriously. Do you know how much work I pu-" He drops another inch. "...oh-kay, so clearly you do, and your a sadist."

Down to her last straw, Clock resorts to pleading. "Please, Cog. I've done so much for you, and this project is really import-"

Before she could finish, Cog stops flapping, and drops a half-foot straight onto the tip of her tower.

"AAAAAAAHCK NO STOP WHY WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT I CAN'T WATCH." She buries her face into the couch, preparing for her world to crumble.

Weirdly, the world-crumbling doesn't happen. "...Where's the kaboom?" she asks, still too scared to look.

"There's supposed to be an earth-shattering KABOOM!"

Steeling her nerves, she peeks up at Cog, and sees him preening, perched on the dominos like he weighed nothing at all.

"What."

"How?"

"How do you guys hurt so much when you divebomb into my face, and yet weigh, like, 15 atoms?"

She cocks her head to the left, which is the universal sign for "What the hay is going on here?".

After a while, she just shrugs. "Birds." she finally states, and leaves it at that. (No need to go solving ALL life's mysteries yet).

Drained from the brief yet stressful ordeal, she sidles up to her workbench, and lays her head down for a nap.

((Semi-afk. Mention if you want to wake Clock up))

Clockwork snores from under a pile of blankets, not looking to get up and face her day anytime soon.