A distraction from paperwork would be appreciated! (Myk)

[Robert Pratt]

Apparently, 2 years of meditation does not a clear desk make. In fact, as Robert walked into The Sanctuary office he wasn't entirely sure where is desk actually was. He'd already seen Belle, and had a massive cuddle from her followed by a shove and a punch to the arm that he was sure would have bruised had he been human still. She'd explained that she'd done all she could, and that Lizzie had been doing her part too, but that some things just needed his attention and his alone. Apparently, these things were vast in number and frequency, and had almost filled the entire floor space and surface of his office up to about chest height.

"Well, ****!"

Everything in him wanted to just back away slowly, throw in a lit match, close the door, and pretend it wasn't there. However he knew that wasn't really possible, so in he went and headed for the furthest point from the door before sinking down behind all of the papers to start....... somewhere.

[Myk]

When the Telepath had heard that Robert was back he had been a little too excited. Rutherford had actually complained that Myk’s girlish scream had exploded his eardrums – despite not actually having eardrums on account of being a black wisp. But, Myk had ignored the Wraith because he was too happy to hear any complaints about Robert being a bad influence, and yet, Myk was also a little bit sceptical of Robert’s return in the first place. After all, it’s not every day that somebody disappears from your life, does an exceedingly good impression of being dead, and then… digs themselves out of their grave and returns like a handsome ghoul. Myk half expected Robert to smell like the earth, have worms in his hair, and chips of wood under his nails. That was his imagination working on overtime though, and nothing more, because Robert was back and back to normal quicker than Myk’s mind could even summon such a fanciful image. Busy as ever, the Shadow had retreated to The Sanctuary almost immediately after saying hello, and got to work on being his usual charitable self. Robert would have a lot of work waiting for him no doubt, work that no white-haired clown should interrupt if said clown was a good friend… But, aren’t friends supposed to understand when you need a distraction too, a bit of a break? The papers could wait!

Maybe it was because he was feeling sheepish, maybe it was because he wanted to avoid anyone who wasn’t Robert, or maybe it was because he liked the anonymity – well whatever it was, Myk chose to cloak himself in darkness before he entered The Sanctuary. He was careful to wait until some young mortals were leaving before he’d slipped inside – there was no point in giving everyone a fright by opening the door himself, creating a scene right out of Paranormal Activity. It already felt like a horror movie inside the Telepath’s head with a thousand voices talking all at once, and he didn’t fancy sharing the pain. Being in The Sanctuary often had that effect on Myk, though he didn’t know why. It was just one of the mysteries of being him, he supposed. Maybe one day he would get some clarity on it, but, it was a difficult one to investigate. Right now, he had a mission to focus on, which involved sneaking past the Human activity and finding Robert’s office. Myk had been there a handful of times – though only once or twice with Robert’s knowing about it. Sneaking inside the office this time, without anyone noticing, would be a challenge. He couldn’t use the same technique unless Belle or one of the other clerks would go inside.

Myk paused by the door, his ears tuned to the sound of someone at work on the other side, though he couldn’t tell who. Apparently the Telepath was a bit rusty in the stalking department and couldn’t identify a man by the way they moved any longer. That was a little disconcerting, but, it was understandable. He was a busy little psychopath recently – busy doing nothing. Besides, this was partly Robert’s fault for not being around! You can’t stalk a person who’s not around… Anyway. Myk’s original plan was to sneak inside the office – somehow – and watch Robert for a while before revealing himself. He couldn’t be sure that Robert was actually inside, however. There was a risk that if Myk dropped his camouflage after he entered the room, he would potentially scare some poor soul to death. The door opening by itself would be troubling enough without some white-haired weirdo performing a magical reappearance. At least he’d gone subtle on the outfit tonight with jeans and a shirt, so, there was that.

Dressed in black and shadows, Myk decided to hell with it and slowly cranked the handle. The slow, even pressure made the metal groan low and insistently and when Myk felt the latch unhook itself, he pushed the door open with a soft, smooth force. The door maybe opened about ten inches before it hit a pile of paperwork, stopping with a jolt. Pewter eyes narrowed when that wooden frame would go no further, but he was sure that he could slip his slim form through the gap. You didn’t have to be a contortionist in this scenario, but it helped. Myk side-stepped through the gap, casually closed the door behind him, then pressed his back up against it. What he found on the other side of that panel of wood surprised him – had The Sanctuary become a printing house instead of a shelter? Myk made a whistle of astonishment, announcing himself further if the door opening thing hadn’t been that alarming. Still, he was invisible for a few seconds more and so was Robert, as a matter of fact. It took a little manoeuvring around columns of stacked paper for Myk to find the man.

“My friend, you either need a holiday or you need to never, ever take one like… ever again.” Myk smiled at the one seated, working his way through the papers. “It’s a good thing you’re immortal, no?”

[Robert Pratt]

He seemed to have made more of a mess than had been in here when he'd started. When he'd got here, everything had been pretty much stacked in neat piles that Belle had been tending to, nurturing, and growing it appeared. However he'd got in there and one stack of papers had fallen over and knocked a second, so the piles were now splayed out over the floor down the side of the coffee table. Meanwhile, the piles he was working on were fanned out around him as he tried towork out what could be binned and then arranging the rest in order of importance. However, when the door creaked slowly open, his head snapped up and he leant to one side to peek around and between the stacks that were hiding him. When no-one appeared to enter, he raised an eyebrow, watching as it slowly closed itself again. He'd been around vampires long enough to know that someone had come in cloaked in shadows, but he had no idea who.

He opened his mouth to demand the person show themselves and state the purpose of their hidden visit, but the whistle cut him off. As another pile of papers fell over, his eyes moved from the door to it, and finally something beganto materialise that made him grin. It was Myk, the weird little man who liked to follow him around, spy on him, and Robert suspected had a crush on him. He'd not seen him in donkey's years - more than he'd not seen anyone else - and it was good to see that he was still alive. Though, that wasn't much of a surprise as he was a lurker that one, never getting involved in anything and just sitting on the sidelines being ignored generally. He chuckled and nodded at the comment, splaying his arms wide to encompass all the papers and nodded.

"Great welcome home gift eh? And yes, don't know how I'd get everything done I need to if I weren't immortal. That part at least, is a blessing. But how have you been? Well? What have you been up to? Fill me in on what I've missed in this wonderful city of ours."

[Myk]

Despite the fact that it appeared as though the paper sheets were rebelling, returning to their original forms as tall columns and soft carpeting, Myk ignored the veritable forest around him and set his pewter eyes on Robert. If Myk was one to gamble – and he was, actually – he would bet that the shade of blue in those orbs was bright due to surprise, but also fondness. That revelation made the Telepath’s smile larger than he immediately realised, and when he did realise he was grinning like a love-struck buffoon, he dropped the emotion entirely providing a blank, doll-like stare. Myk’s arms went behind his back automatically then, his hands laced together with cold, numb fingers. He stood quietly and stiffly – as white and vacant as those papers around him – watching lips form patterns as Robert spoke. And apparently Robert was chanting a spell that allowed the lifeless dolls of the world to become real boys again because, after a few long seconds, Myk blinked and remembered that he could move, react, and converse. Still, the subject was a little daunting – had Robert not realised after all this time that Myk didn’t like to speak about himself? Perhaps a subtle reminder was in order…

“I could fill you in, but… Well, that depends, doesn’t it?” the Telepath declared, his eyes displacing momentarily from those omniscient blues. “On how much you’ve missed exactly? I’m not that kind of psychic, unfortunately.”

And he could have left it there, he supposed. Myk wasn’t exactly incapable of being coy, and as it happened, he was rather fond of being evasive and difficult. It seemed somewhat inappropriate in this instance, however. Robert probably wouldn’t play along anyhow and the one likely to end up frustrated was Myk. So, the Telepath sighed and found the edge of the desk with his backside – not sitting on it and disturbing the piles of paperwork, just leaning against it. By now, his arms had come around and folded about his chest. Many would say that the man’s body language was indicative of discomfort, that he was feeling defensive or insecure, and they would be right. Myk didn’t feel as relaxed as he probably should have in the presence of a friend, as a matter of fact, Myk felt more comfortable around complete strangers. Maybe it was because he cared about Robert which made him worry about inflicting any sort of damage on the man, as he invariably could without intent at all. Frankly, that was 90% of the Telepath’s problem – he hurt those he would never wish to lay a finger of harm upon…

“Assuming you’ve been ignorant of our wonderful city for as long as I believe you have, I would say you’ve missed a lot of nothing,” Myk said, his voice carrying that melancholic, melodic tune to it. “Save the Masquerade falling apart and new monsters appearing nightly with nobody doing a thing about it – too busy flirting and drinking and dancing away the length of their immortality to see the clock ticking away… And yes, I do see the irony that I would say such things with a condemning tone, but then, I’m not exactly discounting my efforts in the matter. I don’t do a damn thing either… I suppose it’s become a trend not to give a single **** about anyone but yourself.”

And when he finally stopped speaking, he shrugged his shoulders.