#no wait give him a red balloon with that clown getup

[einwish]

🌀

one word writing prompts | drabble: [ foolish ]

Another day, another bag of tricks.

Kyubey paws at the bright yellow ball on the ground–one of those ones you hide under cups and spin around–before picking his way over the littered floor to where Maxwell is sitting at his desk.

He jumps onto the table with no fanfare, ignoring the man’s indignant shriek when he leaves dusty prints on the piles of paperwork scattered over its surface. After the usual slew of insults settle down to disgruntled muttering, Kyubey finally takes the chance to speak. 

§ I heard that you were thinking of re-opening the theater. §

The man’s reaction is diverting to watch as always. There is a physical recoil, checked in place before it turns into a full retreat. Suspicious eyes fixate on him as Maxwell asks (demands), Who told you that?!

§ You were muttering to yourself, § Kyubey replies back. § I have ears, you know. Four of them, in fact. §

Next come an inevitable barrage of words, not the least of which accuse him of unlawful stalking and other trounced-up claims. Kyubey swishes his tail for every time the man’s heartbeat increases until the bluster, once again, dies down to a dim din.

His eyes sweep over the papers on the desk, which outlines everything from estimated structural damage to insurance rates, rebuilding costs, and photographs. For all its…unusual properties, daily life in Hive City was also mind-numbingly mundane. It isn’t long before Maxwell notices his gaze and sweeps the entire mass of documents off to the side and under a pile of magician handkerchiefs, well out of the Incubator’s sight.

Kyubey remains unaffected. § Is it going to be a one-man show again? § he asks instead. § You were offering to pull me out of a hat. For the record, I’m still interested. §

Well, I’m not! 

And there comes another flood of words. The snippy rejection, Kyubey decides, comes more out of irritation than genuine distaste. For all that the man dislikes, insinuates, and distrusts about him, Maxwell has yet to officially kick Kyubey out of his life. The Incubator waits patiently for his turn to speak again, observing Maxwell’s generous range of expressions in the meantime.

§ Why don’t you go into the clown business instead? § he asks next. § You’re a natural at making those idiotic expressions. §

The irate man picks up a top hat and plops it over Kyubey, effectively blocking him from sight except for his fluffy tail. Nonplussed, Kyubey decides to take a nap right inside.

It’s not until he feels a weight on his tail that he wakes up again. He uses a paw to lift up the hat and spots Maxwell inexplicably using his tail as a makeshift pillow. The man is thoroughly unconscious, a pencil and a paper full of scribbles lying next to his right hand. Kyubey uses his ears to pick up the paper and examine its contents.

It looks like some sort of budget calculation…

After a while, the Incubator picks up the pencil as well to scribble something on the paper before he teleports from sight. The sudden disappearance of his ‘pillow’ leaves Maxwell’s head to knock soundly against the table, waking him up.

The next time he checks his paper, it’s to see a written message scrawled haphazardly over his numbers.

—You should check your math, I found 4 mistakes. 

Next to the words lie a single dusty pawprint.