[Patrick Vykkers]

Praetyre could tell from Slap's facial expression that he felt somewhat pained discussing his muteness. He subsequently remembered his languages teacher in university, then slapped himself on the forehead like he had just caused a riot after an unintentional double entendre while working on a patient needing to be airblown. He could remember his old teacher telling him about the difference between mumbling and language. They were controlled by different nodes in the brain, and when disused could atrophy. Even if Slap hired the best language tutor in the business, who would cost more in a month than his laptop's power bills in a year, he would need surgery to reactivate or replace that part of his brain.

Praetyre then listened to Slap's monologue and replied;
"Well my friend, if we're going to be sharing war stories, I have quite a few. But seeing as I have to save our Mudokon friend upstairs, I'll just give you my shortest one.

10 years ago, when I worked at Slog Hut 403, there was this Slig, Arrack, who was real into dancing. And by really into it, I mean enough to scare the Valet. He spent all of his free time practicing dancing, listening to music and.."
Praetyre leaned closer..
"Asking the boss for... oh Odd, this is hilarious... a dance girdle! He was a little weird, true, but he was one of the nicest guys you could ever meet. But one day, he lost his balance and fell into a vat of new GE chemicals we were going to feed to the Slogs. They ended up nearly devouring him, and he got the front of his face caught in the disposer while running. I had to literally remove the entire front layer of his skin, and then, due to this idiot and drunken superior of mine, was badly taken care of and got a massive infection. When we popped it, there was so much blood and pus on the floor, it made the anaemic Chronicler visiting the place tear his own stomach out. Fortunately he survived, but the sheer experience of this has greatly deformed him. Under court order, he has to wear a 6 centimetre thick plasteel mask within 50 metres of anyone except his dermatologist, his family, or registered medical officials, even when sleeping. Believe me, I've seen him, and you don't want to see him. I had to take medicine just to prevent myself from vomiting on his lovely carpet. Poor guy. By the way, I don't know where the toilets are."
Praetyre turned away to the Mudokon, hoping no one was put off by his story if they accidentally heard it.
"Ok buddy, let's go."
Praetyre headed out of the cafeteria, and traced back his steps until reaching the stairway hub.