The next day....
You follow V to the supply closet. Your head jerks as you glance up at the broom laying on one of the top shelves. You glance back, hearing the sound of a few giggling drones behind you. With an annoyed sigh, you roll your eyes.
"Should have seen that coming..." you muttered
"Mmhm." V hummed.
You reach up for the broom, only for it to fall on your head. The drones, again, laugh.
"Hey guys!" A familiar, yet, cheerful voice rings out. You and V turn around.
N is passing by, carrying a tray with steaming hot oatmeal, A glass of water, and some medicine. You and V assume he's taking it to Tessa.
"What's all the laughter about?" N asked.
One of the drones leaned against the stair rail. "J told a really funny joke!"
N looks at J. "J? Well, I didn't know you could be funny!"
J puts a hand on her hip. "Oh, yeah. I'm hilarious."
Yeah. Very hilarious.
"Hello, N," you say hesitantly.
N looks back, and with his free hand, he waves. "Oh, hi, L! Good morning, V!"
V gives N a small wave in return. "Good morning, N," she says softly before turning back to the supply closet.
N pauses for a moment, adjusting the tray in his hands. "You two doing okay?"
V nods. "Mmhm. Just getting started with the morning cleaning."
You shrug. "As okay as I can be, I guess."
N tilts his head, studying you for a moment. His visor flickers slightly, but he doesn't push the topic. "Well, if either of you need anything, just let me know, okay?"
You give N a thumbs up. "Tell Tessa V and I hope she gets better."
N grins. "Will do!"
N carefully balances the tray as he continues down the hall, his footsteps fading. You glance at V, who is already focused on organizing the remaining cleaning supplies. She works with practiced efficiency, moving each item with care.
You idly tap your fingers on the broom before sighing. "Guess we should get started, huh?"
V hums in agreement. "Mmhm."
"I guess... I guess I'll see you again whenever we cross paths?" You say awkwardly.
V tilts her head, A small smile on her face. "You say that like one of us is going to a faraway place."
You shift awkwardly. "I mean, you never know," you mumble. "Maybe J will send me off to space next time."
V lets out a small chuckle. "That would be quite the adventure."
You glance back toward the hallway where N disappeared, then sigh. "Well, back to work."
V nods, already dusting off a nearby shelf.
You make your way to the main hall. When did this mess happen?
...
No time to think on that. The only thing you should be worried about is getting shut down because you aren't doing your job.
You grip the broom tightly and sigh. Might as well get started before J or someone else finds an excuse to yell at you.
As you begin sweeping, you can hear the distant chatter of drones going about their tasks. The air is filled with the occasional hum of servos and the light clinking of glassware from the bar area. The place is always moving, even when things seem slow.
You make steady progress, pushing dust and debris into a neat pile. Then-of course-J struts in, arms crossed, an all-too-familiar smirk on her face.
"Y/N, I gotta say, you never fail to be entertaining," she muses, watching you with amusement.
You glance at her but keep sweeping. "And you never fail to be annoying," you mutter under your breath.
J gasps dramatically, placing a hand on her chest. "How rude! And here I was about to offer my wisdom!"
You pause. "...Which is?"
J leans in slightly. "You're sweeping wrong."
You blink. "What? How do you even-"
She snatches the broom from your hands before you can react. Then, with a flourish, she starts sweeping in exaggerated, theatrical motions.
"See?" J says, grinning. "You have to put style into it! Grace! Elegance! Otherwise, you're just-"
Mid-spin, she accidentally whacks the broom against the leg of a chair, sending it clattering to the floor.
A brief silence follows.
V, who had been passing by with a rag in hand, stops and tilts her head. "J... are you sure you're doing it right?"
J quickly straightens up, dropping the broom back into your hands. "Obviously. I was just demonstrating what not to do."
You stifle a laugh, shaking your head. "Sure, J. Whatever you say."
J huffs, adjusting her maid crown. "You're welcome for the lesson, Loser." And with that, she marches off, leaving you and V exchanging amused glances.
With a sigh, you return to sweeping. You suppose it's just another normal day.
In the distance, you hear James shouting and insulting the other drones. You smirk to yourself.
How's it feel being called a worthless drone, eh?
You keep sweeping, but you can’t help the smug satisfaction creeping in. For once, you aren’t the one being yelled at. Someone else is on the receiving end of James’ usual tirade.
The shouting grows louder, the sharp edge of James’ voice cutting through the hall. "Useless! I ask for one simple thing, and you can’t even do that right?"
A drone stammers out an apology, but James doesn’t seem interested. The sound of something shattering echoes through the space—maybe a glass, maybe a plate.
You pause, glancing toward the source of the commotion.
James is standing near the dining room entrance, towering over two drones. One of them is holding a tray, the other kneeling down to clean up the mess.
"Pathetic," James sneers. "If you’re not going to be useful, I might as well scrap you."
Your smirk falters.
You know what it's like to be on the receiving end of that rage. To be treated as if you’re nothing.
Except, the difference was, they're imperfections were always their failures. Your imperfections were, well, everything. But mostly your twitches.
You hear James' footsteps approach and you continue sweeping, refusing to meet his gaze. Forcing yourself to not lock up, or worse yet accidentally slap him.
James’ steps slow as he nears, his presence looming behind you. You keep your eyes on the floor, focusing on the broom. Just sweeping. Just doing your job. Don’t give him a reason.
A sharp exhale. “At least one of you knows how to work,” James mutters, his voice dripping with disdain.
You don’t respond. You know better than to take that as praise.
He lingers for a moment, as if waiting for something—maybe for you to slip up, to stammer out some pathetic acknowledgment. But you won’t give him that satisfaction.
Eventually, James scoffs and moves on, his footsteps heavy as he strides away.
You finally let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.
Across the hall, the two drones are still cleaning up the mess, working in nervous silence. You consider helping them for a brief second. But then you shake your head and keep sweeping.
Best to keep your head down. Best to keep moving.
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