>>5524092>In a palace several miles away.Admin Weston storms into the room, his normally calm face beet red. "Master with all due respect.”
He stops, a low growl emitting from his side. Next to the doorway, a large white pokemon lay curled on a table, its body hunched over ready to pounce. Given how close the beast was, even if he reached for his pokeballs, the beast could gut his throat before he could even muster a defense.
Completely unconcerned, a withered old man sat at a table, sipping a red wine and dabbing at his lips with a handkerchief. “Really now, with ALL due respect? Given our ranks, and your predicament, I think your tone is quite lacking the respect I am due.” The man grins, long fanged teeth that do not belong to any human glistening in the candle light. “Or am I incorrect.”
Weston gulps. “Of course not sure… forgive me. I have put so much into this project that-”
“That you lose sight of yourself in your passion. It is understandable, and in fact forgivable.” The man leans over his plate of food, a reddish meat covered in slices of oranges. “But, it is better to nip problems in the bud before they become habits.” He smiles.
Weston returns the smile warily. “Thank you sir, but, can you please, elaborate on your thinking behind this.” He draws out a sheet of paper. Emblazoned on the parchment in black ink is a acceptance letter to the Rose Academy prison guards. “I did not apply.”
“No you did not, but you are the one concerned about the Laundry, and I consider that volunteership to address the issue.” The man cuts a slice of the meat, sauce pooling around it as the meat gushes juice. “Hmm.” He tastes the meat and frowns. “Are Goldeens really so, pedestrian a flavor? I will need to inform my butler.”
Weston bows his head, the mans coat flickering with the wind. “But sir, be that as it may, my job is to be your personal assistant, your muscle. You yourself said that the heiress was a low priority target. Why not one of the grunts, or eliminators instead?”
“Times change, and timetables do too.” The man spits the meat into his napkin, tossing the plate aside where it crashes into seven pieces. The cat leaps from the table, lapping at the ill prepared meat. “I have been informed of several, convergences around that prison. I was hoping our little Laundry would be operating in a overfunded jail, and our target could be tempted and bribed our way, and if not, rot in a bubble.” The man frowns. “But there are far too many hands in the pot, and that Princess is liable to become someone elses pawn.” He sips his wine. “Or worse, her own woman.”
Weston adjusts his glasses. “And it is best to address problems early…”
The tooth man smiles. “Precisely. Oh and Weston.” He raises a glass. “To your new career. Fet yourself a glass from the cabinet. You start tomorrow.”