Stella took a sip from her new mug. "G'wah!"
She flung the porcelain cylinder to the floor, spilling its contents on the teak wood.
Angon peaked his head through her office door. "You alright there?"
"Fuckin-- Did you change the temp on the machine?!" she sputtered from a burnt mouth, collecting the hot coffee off the floor.
"Yep, you got me," Angon teased, as he sipped from his own mug. The gold emblem of the Elven Synod flared against the light from the setting sun in the distance. "Fine detective work like that gets you the corner office."
With his free hand, Angon grabbed Stella's waste basket and held it closer her crumbled form on the floor. Stella looked up at her old boss and threw the soaked paper towels into the bin with a dull splat. "Thanks."
"Wanted to check in on you," Angon said, returning the bin to spot he found it. "How's your workload?"
Stella plopped into her high-back, leather seat. "What workload?" she replied, spreading her arms over an empty desk. "I've been calling contacts all week to see if anyone needs help. It's like..." Stella stopped to look out the window. From her desk in the corner office on the 56th floor, Stella had a uninterrupted view of all of New Amsterdam below 125th St. The all-glass facade was hideous from the outside, but in her office, there was no better view of her home.
"Yeah.. same feeling... only... my office is closer to the men's room," bragged Angon, as he sat in one of Stella's spare leather chairs.
"You are getting older, buddy," Stella smiled, eyes twinkling. "Are they afraid you'd have an "accident"?"
Angon stared his junior down, even as he continued to slurp is coffee. "I picked that office. Specifically. Best way to get the lay of the land. Anyway, I wanted to let you get the fancy one... The one you deserve, Stella."
Stella reluctantly smiled, "Angon, you didn't need to do that."
"Also, figured I be here in your office most of the time anyway!"
"You don't need to do that either."
Angon spit up his coffee onto his shirt. Stella reached out with a paper towel. "What is with this office? Its like a Bermuda triangle of spills."
"Yeah, blame the office," Stella snidely remarked. "Anything going on with you?"
"Gretchen's recital is tomorrow," blurted Angon through heavy dabs on his shirt.
"I RSVP'd! Loona texted me three months ago to save the date."
"Jesus! Gretchen wasn't even enrolled in the damn dance class then."
"Your wife thinks ahead, Angy."
Angon laughed, "Must have learned that from me." He dropped the paper towel into the bin beside him. The near dry adsorbent paper he threw in fell on the soaked mass at the bottom. Slowly but then with haste, the dry towel was exposed to the dark wet mass and was pulled into its darkness; no longer recognizable from what it once was.
"I meant work, though," said Stella. "They keep you busy on the other side of the floor?"
"I'm here, aren't I?" replied Angon, spreading his arms as Stella had earlier.
"Any chatter?" she inquired.
"No," he sipped the last of his coffee and gently slid the mug onto the coaster intentionally left out on Stella's desk. "Even near the gent's loo. Some of the quietist pissers on the planet."
"...Did you think it would be like this?" asked Stella.
Angon turned in his chair and reached back to quietly shut the door. Beside every office door on the floor was a button which activated the noise dampeners in the room, preventing any sound from exiting the walls, floor, or ceiling.
Angon pressed it and turned to face the former NYPD detective. "Can't say that I didn't expect this."
"Oh! Should I turn on the loud calypso music now?" Stella mocked. "Or should we just speak through a cipher? They can hear everything, Angon! They're Elves, for fuck's sake! That stupid button, the whole protocol, it is just theater."
Angon was not amused. "That doesn't mean you start calling out the actor in the middle of a performance! We are on their turf. They give us the button, we use the button."
Stella smirked. "...So they know we are talking about something sensitive..."
"And that they should listen."
"Well..." now understanding Angon's direction, Stella took the stage. "...given my lack of work at the moment... I have been calling some friends at TEMPLAR. Y'know, the place where we used to work?"
"Oh! yes! TEMPLAR! The International organization committed to ensuring peace between Elves, Vampires, Humans, and goblins, such as myself! How ARE they doing?" Angon said, hamming it up.
"Well..." Stella said, thinking about her next line. "...when we were transferred and promoted to the Elven Synod, y'know--"
"For stopping the greatest vampire every known and the dark elf that made him! Yes, I DO remember that!"
"Yes, well... our work at TEMPLAR got... pushed onto other teams--"
"Oh, dear!"
"And, well... now! Now, they are saddled with reams of paperwork we left behind..."
Angon stared at Stella waiting for her next line. She froze.
"So!" the goblin intervened. "Are you saying you feel bad that they have all OUR work to deal with and we are stuck here doing fuck all?!"
"Well..." Stella stalled. "Yes! I wish we could help them in some way."
"Or at least have WORK to do here!" Angon improvised.
"Uh, yeah!"
Suddenly, there was a loud knock at the door. Both Stella and Angon stared at the solid wood interlocuter.
"I thought the room was soundproof."
A patch of tiny gold stars appeared at the center of the wooden door. They began to spin, counterclockwise, reflecting the orange hue of the setting sun. The mass of stars grew and grew, spinning faster and faster. Angon rose to his feet as Stella stood up behind her desk. She had seen this before.
The spinning galaxy floated away from the door and gently hovered above the teak floorboards, slowly taking the shape of their boss.
"Lord Amuron! What do we owe--"
"Let me make this clear: You are here so I can keep my eyes on you both."
Stella and Angon were frozen in place, staring at the seven-foot tall, pale white figure in front of them. They did not expect their Friday to end like this.
"You both have a wonderful record of disobeying directives from TEMPLAR, which inured you to the late Viscount Bloedorst. Baron Bloodlust."
The Elf paused. His words coated their brains, slowing all thought, pulling all focus to him.
"But... the vampire is dead. You, both of you... are no longer at TEMPLAR. You serve me. And when I tell you do to ANYTHING.... you will do it..."
The elf began to dematerialize back into tiny gold stars. "Until then..." Lord Amuron spun himself in a ball of shimmering gold and slowly passed through the door he came in. "...you will wait... and do nothing."
The sun had set behind the horizon before Stella or Angon moved from their spot. The goblin turned to his human friend and said, "Maybe we were... too on the nose?"
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