“Charlie, what is this.”
It wasn’t a question; Jiwon was too tired for that. His oversized tail trailed on the ground behind him, not even having enough energy to sweep. Its fur was matted and tangled, not helped by the fact that the gumiho had slept on top of it the night earlier. Usually he went into fox shape when sleeping, as it was his natural form, but a nearly day-long mission had left him too exhausted to bother when he made it back, only making it a few steps before collapsing to the RC floor. At least his tail had been comfy.
There was the sound of bootprints pattering on Generic surface, then Charlie emerged from their room, dimly smiling as per usual. The tabaxi, unlike their partner, showed no signs of sleep deprivation at all. This wasn’t unusual for them; what was unusual was what the fact that they were wearing a human skull on their head like a cap.
“Heyo, mate! How’s the weather?”
Jiwon didn’t turn from the console screen, scrolling down and up on the screen as if the strange readout would change or go away if he kept trying. Then he dimly registered the question and glanced to the ceiling. “Ah, hi. The weather’s probably fine, I guess. Why are you wearing a skull?”
“Oh, this? This is Jeremy! Found him in the skelly hole, all lonely and without a body, so now he’s here!” they leaned down to whisper conspiratorially in his ear. “He speaks to me. Tells me things…”
Jiwon was too groggy to really think negatively of this. “What kind of things?”
“He’s the one who wanted me to ask you the weather!”
“Ah.”
[bip], went the console.
Jiwon yawned, then scrolled down until he saw that new words had appeared below the initial mission report.
[The previous mission alert was sent out in error. We apologize for the confusion and inconvenience.]
“False alarm?” said Charlie, looking over Jiwon’s shoulder - to be accurate, looking over Jiwon’s everything, as they were two heads taller than him.
Jiwon traced his finger across the screen, but he had reached the bottom and there were no more words to be found. “I guess so.”
Then Charlie whipped the skull off their head, threw it to the ground, and crushed it with their heel.
“Woah, hey! Charlie, what was that for?” Jiwon said, backing away.
“Called you a slur. Can’t have that, nah.” Crouching down, Charlie began to sweep up the pieces of bone into their Bag of Holding, humming cheerfully.
“Do I want to know which one?”
“Already forgot, mate. Died with him.” They finished disposing of the head and wandered over to the mini-fridge, rummaging through its contents. A few wheels of cheese fell out, remnants of when Charlie had been allowed to stock food a week ago. It was a wall of yellow in there.
Jiwon sighed and shut off the console, trying and failing to stop another incoming yawn. “I’m blaming Intel for this,” he said once that had finished.
“You always blame Intel.” Coming from Charlie, this wasn’t an insult or accusation, but merely a statement of what they saw as fact.
Jiwon knew this, and just shrugged. “Maybe. It still feels right here. If they’d do their job right and actually care about the fics dumped on the chopping block, we wouldn’t have things like this happening. Seriously, with how little info the console gave us this could be another Harry is a Dragon situation.”
“Or maybe they just messed up.”
“People don’t mess things up for no reason, Charlie. I mean, not here, not in the PPC of all places.”
Charlie shrugged. “Eh, aight. So whatcha gonna do about it?”
Jiwon was already at the door. “I’m sending a complaint to Intel.”
“You have a complaint? Where?” Charlie perked up at the idea of this. They were the type to be intrigued by any sudden reveal of a new item. Jiwon could’ve said ‘I have a grenade and just pulled the pin,’ and they still would’ve perked up and said, “Really? Where?” before they both blew up.
“Right here.” Jiwon spread his arms out and gave them an expectant look.
Charlie stared at him, stock-still and dead silent for nearly a minute. “Don’t see it,” they said at last. Jiwon looked disappointed.
“It’s me. I’m the complaint… complaining. Yes, that.”
“You’re walking all the way to Intel? What for? You sure it’s even the right place?”
Jiwon sighed. It was a defeated sigh, caused by more than just this stretch of conversation.
“I’m tired, Charlie. I’m tired, and this stupid console and whoever’s behind it is to blame, and I may be a spirit but that doesn’t mean I can operate off four hours a sleep a day. I’m taking this to Intel directly. With my mouth, to be clear.” He added, “And I don’t know who else other than Intel it could be.”
“Eh, alrighty,” Charlie said with a shrug, reclining onto the couch (it creaked). “Gonna get some good steps in, are ya? Have a good one, mate.” They waved.
“See you,” said Jiwon, then slipped out into the halls. The door clicked quietly shut.
There was a short bout of silence.
[He’s not going to come back], beeped the console.
“Don’t be a pessimist,” Charlie replied.