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Twinbrook news had never been the best at staying up to date. He was reduced to reading about the flood for the third time that week.
Despite it being night time, he felt like keeping a decent amount of shelter between himself and the townsfolk. However, the best he could manage was some poolhouse/garage combination.
Adjusting the horse mask he was told to wear, sounds could be heard outside. Listening intently now, he tried to pick out the exact tone of their voice.
“Ow! I am not jumping out of a fourth story window ever again…” He looked up to see his superior rubbing their lower back. Inexplicably, their head was wrenched in the opposite direction that it was supposed to be.
Getting to his feet, he watched as they took hold of themselves, and righted their head into the correct position. A few sways and cracks, and it looked back to normal.
“Oh, good! You finally made it. Given we only have until the 28th to get everything in place, I wasn’t willing to wait.”
“What are you looking at there, boy?” Dennis caught sight of his son while putting his guitar away.
Shark peered over his shoulder, now quite red-faced. He turned to sit on something he was writing in, trying to hide it.
“Nothing! Nothing important. Well, nothing you need to bother yourself with.” He waved his hand away, trying to keep his father from trying to take a peek.
“Gonna keep it a secret, eh? Well, go right ahead.” He then looked into the window and used his reflection as a mirror. “If you don’t mind, I am once again going to be staying the night at Miss Blaise’s.”
Shark looked curiously at his father. “You’ve been going over there a lot lately. Any reason why?”
Instead of a verbal response, Dennis slowly turned his head and flashed an impressive shit-eating grin. Shark’s eyes widened at the implication.
“Ugh! This place smells like anger, farts, and rotten mangoes.” He watched as they ransacked the lower floor of the mansion. For whatever reason, they insisted on smelling some of the finery.
“Master, could you maybe get back to the task at hand?”
This earned him a plate thrown towards his head. “What did I tell you about using that term, Horse-face?”
He remembered clearly: “I think it was ‘Don’t call me that, you sack of rancid horse shit! This isn’t Doctor Who!’.”
“Precisely. Now, here’s what I want you to do…”
Upon reaching the front door to the house, Sinbad practically collapsed. He lay there on the floor, remembering how unusually insufferable one of the families had been today.
“If that Mr. Castor ordered me to remake his wife’s baked salmon again…” He grit his teeth and raised his arms in a strangling motion. Hearing footsteps, he looked over to see a far more welcoming sight.
“Rough day at work, Sinbad?” Seeing a half-naked Shark got Sinbad to sit up and better admire the view.
There was already drool coming out of the side of his mouth. “Yeah, but I forgot what all happened now.” He reached out and gently tugged at the pants Shark was wearing. He then felt himself being pulled back to his feet.
Shark held him close, most likely (and correctly) assuming he needed a hug. He began working his fingers in circles on Sinbad’s back.
“Well, whatever all happened, it’s over now. And if I remember right, you have a day off tomorrow?”
Sinbad had already been worked into a state of quiet bliss. All he did was nod, before just resting his head on Shark’s shoulder.
He didn’t get time to enjoy that, though. Now Shark was pulling away, and leading him towards their room.