The game credited them with “Perfect Concord.” Finn whooped and dropped his controller into his lap; Maya laughed until she coughed. The cinematic showed the two clockmaker siblings reconciling beneath the tree, time mended by their shared story.

They lingered, replaying a bonus level unlocked by completing the DLC, a tiny garden of memories where they could place little mementos: a photograph of the sink-flooding incident, a pressed flower from a hike, a movie stub. They arranged them with gentle teasing; Finn added a ridiculous pixelated crown to the sink photo, and Maya pretended to be offended. The game let them swap these keepsakes back and forth—an inventory of the small, ridiculous, precious things that made them them.