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 Posted: Sat May 28, 2011 8:35 am
Paintball had been.... exhausting, really. And not as fruitful as he would have hoped, but he had made it out of there with all his parts in tact, so that was a victory as far as the Igor was concerned.
It was the weekend, and Christof was content to huddle in his room, reading the book Miss Amrita had given him, when suddenly his hand started to itch. Badly. He shut the book, lifting his right hand to tug off the glove, ready to give it a scratch when the unmistakable glow radiated from those curling lines twisting down his fingers and edging it's way to his wrist. Hmmm... Master... needed him?
There wasn't a surprise, but he felt a bit of glee as he dropped everything to hurry out and towards the Demon Dorms.
Hopefully Barth wasn't going to lecture him about his.... temper tantrum... in N.A.P. club days ago. The sloth was too lazy for that, right? Right.
Warily, he peaked in the window, eyes narrowed at the state things had already decomposed to within the dorm. He sighed. That's probably why he was called over.
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Posted: Sat May 28, 2011 9:06 am
All of Christof's thoughts on the subject were, in fact, accurate.
Barth was in his chair, not sleeping, but waiting.
"My room is a mess," he said, tone neutral.
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Posted: Sat May 28, 2011 9:07 am
The hunchback wobbled, face flushing before glancing down at the who-knew-how-old laundry under his feet. With a sigh, he nodded, diligently stooping to begin gathering it up.
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Posted: Sat May 28, 2011 9:20 am
The itching, surprisingly, was not effected by the laundry. If anything, it seemed more urgent, as if irritated by the distraction.
Barth continued, "I need you to clean and organize the laboratory equipment. Anything that could be vaguely construed as equipment. Tools, containers, odds and ends, mechanisms. Find room, make cabinents if you have to. If it can be polished, polish it. Sort all the piles. Immaculate, is the end result I'm looking for. I don't care how long it takes. ...You aren't to do anything else, for anyone else until it's done."
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Posted: Sat May 28, 2011 9:26 am
That, though, took the Hunchback by surprise. Usually Barth's orders were along the lines of "Oh er... shall I move my feet?" as he bustled about doing all of this of his own accord. And... not for anyone else until it was done? He glanced around. Barth must have done a bit of experimenting on his own, bits and pieces lay... everywhere. And the blueprint pile had begun to migrate from one end of the room to the other in a scattered sort of disarray.
He scratched at the mark on his hand again after plopping the load of laundry into it's hamper (after moving a few books on top of it out of the way). And nodded slowly, an eyebrow raising.
Alright, maybe he was a bit sore about the Paintball thing. It could be worse. At least it wasn't a flogging.
Obediently, he moved on to the workbench, carefully arranging the hand tools to put back on the peg-board he had installed himself months ago.
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Posted: Sun May 29, 2011 2:50 pm
Barth tried his best to be chilly and neither friendly nor companionable while Christof worked. The fact of the matter was that flogging involved a lot of lifting things and he did not have a flogger in his employ. Having Christof flog himself was not Contractual.
Cleaning would not be so bad as a punishment, except Christof liked cleaning. Cleaning lab equipment, Barth worried, might translate less into I am displeased and more into we're going to do some laboratorying, which was technically true but also at opposite odds with his intentions. Traditional igorly punishments were more along the lines of sit in this small closet and twiddle your thumbs.
Barth hoped that Christof would get the hint anyway.
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Posted: Sun May 29, 2011 3:04 pm
Honestly... it wasn't much of a punishment at all. Christof was practically humming as he cleared the way. In almost no time at all (by Barth standards) the workbench gleamed, the tools hung in their proper spots on the pegboard and sparkled, glassware he had unearth glimmered, and soon the clutter that had edged its way into the work area of the room began to melt away like snow making way for spring.
He was actually humming when he did finally locate the vacuum cleaner, untangled the cord, and began to make his way around the plush carpet.
Perhaps the closet would have been a better option, as far as lessons learned was concerned.
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Posted: Sun May 29, 2011 3:35 pm
Barth didn't speak up to stop Christof from clearing the non-laboratory things, although his mark flared up if he lingered too long on them. The vacuuming, for whatever reason, seemed like a safe use of Ordered time.
Afterwards, with the entire room decluttered and shined, the Mark made a satisfied hiss, and was again only decorative and inert.
Barth, who had been waiting in his chair the entire time, only said, "...Next time you decide to do something like you did at the club meeting, leave Lilith out of it, hm?"
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Posted: Sun May 29, 2011 4:02 pm
Christof's moment of pride was soon shut down as he sagged a bit at Barth's tone. He shifted, tapping his fingertips together as he turned to face his slothly Master, before raising his hands in a quick series of gestures:
Sorry-Angry-Wasn't-Thinking
He couldn't remember the sequence for "It won't happen again"... perhaps it was good not to make empty promises, judging by his track record. He sagged further, like only an Igor could slouch.
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Posted: Sun May 29, 2011 4:06 pm
Barth turned over in his chair, confused.
"Angry? You weren't err, trying to help?"
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Posted: Sun May 29, 2011 4:09 pm
Christof shifted, hands trembling as he gingerly moved to sit nearby on the couch, at least until the next order came.
Hands raised again for the quick signs he hoped Barth could follow.
Mistress-Angry. Fight. Upset. Want-to-help. I-talk-with-her-before-game. Better-now. I-think. Sorry.
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Posted: Sun May 29, 2011 5:02 pm
"...Riley told you to do that? She didn't err, I mean she wasn't involved with the armor business too, was she?"
A little sabotaging between demons was, he supposed, to be expected. But both incidents had been on the less than subtle side.
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Posted: Sun May 29, 2011 5:04 pm
Christof's brows furrowed as he tried to comprehend where Barth had come to that conclusion from before flushing and shaking his head frantically.
NO. (He gesticulated this with fervor.) Mistress-angry-with-me. Was-upset. Needed-to-help-nap-club. His eyes dropped, face flushing even more. Seemed-good-idea-at-time.
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Posted: Sun May 29, 2011 9:11 pm
"So it was your idea," Barth clarified. Well, that was alright then. Sort of.
"...Get the typewriter out. You need to type up the paperwork for the new Contract."
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Posted: Sun May 29, 2011 9:23 pm
Relieved that that seemed to be the end to it, the Igor happily rose to find the device, hefting it over to the coffee table to set it up with a fresh form obediently. This was becoming a very familiar task in his repertoire for the Sloth.
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