The reaction in the wood is immediate. Rather than exploding, the wood splits along the circuitlike lines, opening up like a fault in the earth and with a smell exactly like hot eucalyptus.

Epsilon doesn't make a sound, but his vine retracts with a speed that almost renders it invisible, just for a second--his features run through expressions almost as quickly. Alarm is replaced by confusion and pain, panic and something that might be anger but is truthfully just the question of whether he needs to defend himself.

These are seconds, instants in time, responded to instantaneously as Epsilon's AI-like perception and processing updates the situation every quarter-tick of the second hand. By the time he's holding his own vine against his chest, delicately clawed hands clutching the steaming fissures, he mostly just looks frightened for Faust.

"I'm sorry! I didn't realise I was going to scare you."

He speaks with a distinct Australian accent and an apologetic tone.