The wide, luminescent yellow eyes stared intently at the screen, the pursed, half smiling face bathed in the bright, pale light. Staring intently at the screen, the mudokon paused, wincing a little at the glare from the monitor as his hands slowed faintly in their blur over the keyboard, nails hovering over the keys as his gold eyes swept over the screen. Twisting slightly in the warm comfort of the swiveling chair, he paused, one hand over the screen… checking it one more time, he turned back, his face breaking out into a pure, childlike smile of joy. "Sir! Your stock just rose four points!"
"What? Excellent… that’s some good news… even in this hellish time." The figure didn’t turn around. Face falling, the mudokon gazed worriedly at the figure, the slump of the shoulders; looking weary, almost… defeated. Placing a splay toed foot against the computer desk he was seated at, he tenses- gliding gracefully, he pushes off, wheeling smoothly across the featureless floor. The wheels grind slightly as he rolls to a stop, eyes on the hunched, slumping form of his master.
The burnished coppery glow of the glukkon’s eyes don’t leave the massive screen before him. Text and statistics flow across it, a small pointer shimmying this way and that across the screen. Resting stiffly on his elbows in the peculiar chair designed for him, he leans forward, the sound of heavy, pounding typing coming muffled from beneath the desk. Not many glukkons liked typing, but Mainard had always pledged a preference over dictation any day.
Insides twisting with sorrow, the mudokon rises, the chair inching back under the pressure of his back stretched foot as he slips forward, his eyes never leaving the silhouette of his master’s long, tired face. An ear flicked slowly… a nervous habit his master had picked up long ago…
The long, tight form of the glukkon tenses, shaking slightly as the mudokon’s hand finds his shoulder beneath the soft gray cloth. Caressing the shoulder of his suit slowly, he leans closer, his eyes wide and unhappy as he stares into his master’s face. Voice tinged with loving concern, he stares deep into his masters warm, reddish eyes, and asks "Master… how long has it been since you last slept?"
Coughing slightly, the glukkon flicked an ear. "Oh… recently enough." Turning his head away, he kept typing.
The mudokon’s voice was soft, concerned. "How long sir?"
The glukkon merely continued typing, not looking at him, not meeting his gaze.
The bluish green hand ran over his shoulder comfortingly. "How long?"
Coughing once again in embarrassed gruffness, the answer comes out a mumbled garble. "Oh… a day or so… or two… Odds I don’t know! Too long and not long enough…" Both handfeet slam onto the hidden keyboard, a splash of garbled words appearing across the screen as the glukkon shifted, turning to favor his pet with an exasperated, amused look.
The mudokon shifted, contrite. "Sir, I-"
"Wren. When we’re alone, you can call me Mainard hear?"
Smiling, the mudokon nodded slightly. "Okay…"
Smiling quirkily, Mainard looked Wren over once, raising an eyebrow. "And what of you? of your sleep?"
"Oh no sir… don’t worry about me. I’m fine…"
"Always the little martyr… so what’s up."
"Nothing much… the ever continuing stock battle between Prexicorp and Cyrux industries continues…"
"Whose up?"
"Cyrux."
Mainard’s face wrinkled up in disgust. "Damn, hope that bastitch had taken a hit… Odds I hate his products… unreliable and cheap as hell…"
Wren nodded softly, looking his master over. "Sir can I get you an espresso?"
Mainard paused thoughtfully. "No, no need…"
Wren smiled. If his master wasn’t dousing himself with caffeine and worse, it meant he might be considering going to sleep…
"Anything else?"
Recalling to the present, Wren shifted a little, uncomfortable. Voice even, he shook himself mentally, saying in a cool voice. "Well… we’ve taken samples from around the factory. Among the workers…"
Knowing what was coming, Mainard sighed. "How high is the contamination levels…"
"About 4 percent… that’s well exceeding the limit sir."
"I… see."
Staring at his knees, Wren said calmly "I’ll order a cleansing sir…"
Wren lifted an eyebrow, looking at the screen. "Only those two and a half percent or higher… no need to lose the entire work force…"
"Sir… that’s still a good thirty or forty workers…" Eyes wide and staring into space, Wren paused in thought… and finally nodded. "I’ll get right on it sir…"
As Wren wheeled back to his desk, Mainard smiled slightly, his eyes glowing soft. "It never ceases to amaze me how calmly you can do that. They’re your people."
Wren didn’t look up from his typing. "Everything dies sir… even me:"
Mainard nodded. "Yes… even me."
Wren froze, spinning around in his chair. "Oh no sir! Don’t say such a thing! You’ll outlive everyone in this factory three times over! Don’t say things like that sir…" Looking positively miserable at the thought, Wren sagged in his chair, his eyes wide. Staring at his master pitifully, he shook a little. Mainard had to restrain a faint giggle at the sight as he gruffly swung around, his hands returning once more to the keys.
Smiling quirkily, Mainard paused a little, his ears flattening at a thought. "What of our ‘guests?’"
Wren glanced at a screen briefly, idly running his eyes over the flashing pictures and flowing text. "Um… looks like… nothing happening sir. Whoops, looks like that assistant of his is outside talking to the guard…"
"Arguing? Fighting?"
"Nope… looks pretty calm right now." Twisting in his chair, Wren glances over at his master. "Sir? It isn’t normal for a slig to have another slig as his assistant… why does he have one?"
Mainard twisted up his features, staring at the screen in perplexed bewilderment. "How the heck should I know? Rumors fly thicker than petroleum with that freak…"
Nodding soberly, Wren finished up with the command functions, his hands flying over the screen.
"Anything else you can think of to tell me?"
"…nope… looks pretty calm for once…"
"Good."
Wren looked up hopefully, scarcely hoping to believe…
"I think it’s time for me to go to bed…"
"Oh YAY!"
Mainard grunted in surprise as the hands clamped around his neck, Wren’s feet off the floor and dangling as he grinned joyfully, pressing his cheek into the glukkon’s shirt. Raising one eyebrow, Mainard tilted his head a little, looking down at the enthusiastic, childlike figure hanging from his neck. Flashing his master an embarrassed smile, Wren let go, slipping to the floor and wrapping one hand around Mainard’s bent elbow.
"Come on sir! Over here."
Half dragging the amused glukkon behind him, Wren slipped towards the voluminous cushions of a couch, set against the wall. Forcibly swinging his amused master ahead of him with a grin across his face, Wren bent a little, easing the taller figure to the couch.
A yawn took Mainard’s jaw as he paused, one hand swiveling awkwardly to undo a few of the lower buttons on his suit. Wren helped, fingers fumbling with the clasps. Stretching out a little, the glukkon spread his arms, relishing in the loose feel and the soft cushions beneath his shoulders.
"Good night Wren…"
"Good night Master…"
As Wren settled sleepily onto the floor in front of his master’s couch, Mainard sighed softly, slowly relaxing for the first time in several long, worrisome days… as he curled onto his side, eyes closed and mouth cracked open, one long arm slipped out of his suit, dangling over the edge, one handfoot resting gently and comfortingly on the small, bony shoulder of his friend…
I really need an Icon pic
