Marc dropped his feet onto his desk with satisfying thuds and leaned way back in his chair, interlocking his fingers behind his unfortunately pink head of hair.
There was a story behind the hair, of course. There was a story behind each and every single one of the interns. But those would be told in time and this was not the time.
This was the time for smirking with satisfaction as he looked beyond the glass walls of his office into the pit of the Den of Gossip where his interns buzzed with life. Intern Pumpkin Head was reaching up on her tip toes to try to steal Intern Beauty's wireless mouse as he chattered away on the phone, jotting down information from presumably one of their many sources. Intern Beast was hard at work pretending to file paperwork but, in all actuality, seemed to be concentrating more on filing her nails. Several other interns were working on gathering together a lunch order while debating what shape would be the best to shift into in order to lug it all back and Intern P.I.T.A. was squinting at his computer while making very needed updates to the computer software.
And now even Keaton was back among their people. Marc could not have been any more thrilled. They should be together. They all belonged together. Here, in RhyDin, they were safe and able to live out in the open... relatively speaking, of course.
"You're going to want to see this," Intern Hot to Trot growled as she swept through his door and dropped a newspaper in his lap opened to a gossip column.
Marc gave a short bark of a laugh as he lifted it. "H.T.T., you know we don't give competition a second look here. We're always the first with the news. Nobody has better sources than us. There's plenty of room for as many gossip reporters as can fit in this town."
"Read it," she replied shortly and evenly.
So he did and the more he read, the more he scowled. When he was done with one, another was dropped before him. And then another. Eventually there were no more papers to drop into Marc's lap and he stared up at H.T.T. wide-eyed and shocked.
"He stole our style! Right down to the use of monikers in front of people's names! No worse than that! Right down to dropping those monikers into initials!" The flush that began to creep up Marc's neck onto his cheeks burned a color that clashed with his hair.
Intern Hot to Trot placed her hands on her hips and drew her lips into a thin, straight line. "We can't let this stand, Marc. We've got to fight fire with fire."
Marc's jaw set and he could feel those natural impulses of his race burning low, bubbling to the surface and silently calling the other interns to action. Tricksters. Charlatans. Rascals. Yes, they were indeed all that and much, much more.
Without having to say a word, silence fell over the Den. One set of eyes turned on him and then another. Smiles formed across their faces and Intern Pumpkin Head even clapped her chubby hands together with delight.
Their leader was calling. It was time to do what they did best.
There was a story behind the hair, of course. There was a story behind each and every single one of the interns. But those would be told in time and this was not the time.
This was the time for smirking with satisfaction as he looked beyond the glass walls of his office into the pit of the Den of Gossip where his interns buzzed with life. Intern Pumpkin Head was reaching up on her tip toes to try to steal Intern Beauty's wireless mouse as he chattered away on the phone, jotting down information from presumably one of their many sources. Intern Beast was hard at work pretending to file paperwork but, in all actuality, seemed to be concentrating more on filing her nails. Several other interns were working on gathering together a lunch order while debating what shape would be the best to shift into in order to lug it all back and Intern P.I.T.A. was squinting at his computer while making very needed updates to the computer software.
And now even Keaton was back among their people. Marc could not have been any more thrilled. They should be together. They all belonged together. Here, in RhyDin, they were safe and able to live out in the open... relatively speaking, of course.
"You're going to want to see this," Intern Hot to Trot growled as she swept through his door and dropped a newspaper in his lap opened to a gossip column.
Marc gave a short bark of a laugh as he lifted it. "H.T.T., you know we don't give competition a second look here. We're always the first with the news. Nobody has better sources than us. There's plenty of room for as many gossip reporters as can fit in this town."
"Read it," she replied shortly and evenly.
So he did and the more he read, the more he scowled. When he was done with one, another was dropped before him. And then another. Eventually there were no more papers to drop into Marc's lap and he stared up at H.T.T. wide-eyed and shocked.
"He stole our style! Right down to the use of monikers in front of people's names! No worse than that! Right down to dropping those monikers into initials!" The flush that began to creep up Marc's neck onto his cheeks burned a color that clashed with his hair.
Intern Hot to Trot placed her hands on her hips and drew her lips into a thin, straight line. "We can't let this stand, Marc. We've got to fight fire with fire."
Marc's jaw set and he could feel those natural impulses of his race burning low, bubbling to the surface and silently calling the other interns to action. Tricksters. Charlatans. Rascals. Yes, they were indeed all that and much, much more.
Without having to say a word, silence fell over the Den. One set of eyes turned on him and then another. Smiles formed across their faces and Intern Pumpkin Head even clapped her chubby hands together with delight.
Their leader was calling. It was time to do what they did best.