Syte Scraps (Unfinished WIPs)

Vulf always did a good job.

Maybe he'd overcharge for his work, maybe he'd be an awfully cocky bastard about it. But he always got the job done. He held that fact as a source of pride. He was more than happy to admit that he was a sleaze, that he was obviously untrustworthy. But he got results, and nobody could deny that. And he loved it- as much as people despised him, they had to admit that he knew what he was doing.

In his many lines of work, mistakes were bound to pop up. He was only inhuman, after all. But it wasn't often that he'd messed up so severely that his managers demanded to have a talk with him. 

The thought of no-showing the meeting was mildly appealing to him. But he didn't want another reason to piss them off.

[...]

Vulf didn't return to Xander's place that night, or the day after. Xander eventually went to meet him at his office.

Vulf looked rough: his hair was a mess, his shirt wrinkled and creased in a way that Xander would disapprove of. It was obvious he hadn't slept, hadn't bothered to let his overclocked device cool down for even a few moments. His antennae twitched as he recalled the reprimanding he had received for his poorly-done job. He perked up at the sight of Xander ducking into the doorway. As quickly as he lit up, however, he seemed to wilt again.

“Make it quick,” Vulf muttered, too lethargic to bother being mean about it. “I've got a meeting in five.”

“I'm alright with five,” Xander assured, taking a seat at the desk that was typically reserved for clients.”What all did they say to you, if you don't mind me asking?”

Xander had wanted to ease into the conversation. But if Vulf said she had five minutes, she knew she had five minutes. Vulf wasn't above kicking it out mid-sentence, it had to be quick. Still, Vulf's grimace at the blunt reminder tugged at the peacock's heartstrings.

“They're not happy,” was Vulf's simple response. He had no desire to elaborate on what he'd been told, the mere act of recalling what they'd said causing him to grimace.

Xander tried to assuage Vulf's worries- he was no stranger to getting in trouble, himself.

“Forget them. They've always got a problem with something.”

“With you, maybe. But I do what I'm told.”

Xander's feathers bristled at the comment, and she took a few moments to compose herself.

“I never took you as the domesticated type.”

It was a mean comment- he regretted saying it the moment it came out of her mouth. Vulf averted his eyes, fur bristling as a growl escaped his gritted teeth. Xander tried to save face.

“You know I didn't mean it like that. But, really, one mistake, with your track record? They're lucky to have you–”

“Shut the fuck up, Alex.”

For once, Xander did as he was told, falling silent in surprise.

[...]

That was a disaster.

Vulf placed his furred tail onto the desk, a barrier between himself and the table he very much wanted to bash his head against. He instead put his head in his hands, allowing himself the briefest comfort of burying his face into the tail's thick fur.

And brief it was- only a few moments passed before his antennae picked up the sound of the door creaking open once again. And then, careful footsteps, stopping at the sight of him.

“I'm awake,” Vulf grumbled, not bothering to move or make himself in any way presentable. “Whaddya want.”

“...I can come back later. It's fine, really.”

Vulf lifted his head at the voice, quickly straightening himself out. Keaton stood behind the desk, looking very uncomfortable at having caught Vulf in this state.

“Ah, there's my favorite superstar!” Vulf exclaimed, a forced toothy grin spreading across his face.

“You don't have to do all that.”

“...Alright, yeah. Thanks, kid.”

Vulf slumped again, as if the brief effort he'd made had sapped the last of his energy. He ran his fingers through the fur of his tail absentmindedly.