Work Text:
Charles was having a perfectly content, blissfully average Tuesday afternoon; although the newspapers had been delivered late today and he hadn't had an opportunity to scour them. Oh well, it wasn't as if the Manager had any form of social life, he could read them this evening.
CCTV showed that the band were only just emerging and heading in search of breakfast. At the massive dining table, Toki had a copy of one of the newspapers that had just arrived; purely open for the purpose of the wordsearch in the puzzle page. Opposite him, Skwisgaar glanced up from his skull coffee mug to comment... and stared; all blood draining from his face.
"Nej! Nej! Nej! Nej! Nej!" he yelled, snatching the newspaper from under the rhythm guitarist's favourite blue crayon.
"Skwisgaar! Gives backs to me da newspaper! I just finded the longest words in da list! And it was beings backwards! I nots even knows whats it means!" the younger man cried, clambering onto the table to get his puzzle back, one knee in a stack of pancakes.
"No times for dat! We needs to goes sees Lawyer-Man rights now! Rights dis moments!" the Swede shouted, dragging Toki the rest of the way over the table (thankfully it was always polished to to a high shine and he slid across the surface easily).
"Heeeeeeeeeey Dood! What's crawled ahp yer ass and died? Ets too early fer this shit." Pickles moaned, debating between three different prescription bottles.
"I nots goings *anywhere* wit you if you sticking t'ings up yous butt and it dies there!" Toki said, horrified, "Which meaning dat it was beings alive when it goes ups you butts so dat it coulds laters be deads!"
"I not putting t'ings up mine butt... whats da fucks?" the blonde replied, momentarily forgetting why he was previously so impassioned.
"Cans I havings mine wordsearch backs now? In da papers you stealing?" the younger guitarist prompted.
"Nej! Tokis! We needs to go sees Lawyer-Mans right now. Comes on!" Skwisgaar snapped, grabbing Toki by the hand and dragging him up to Charles's office.
"Don'ts touches me wit hands dat havings been putting live t'ings up yous butt so dat dey dies!" the younger man cried, trying to break the surprisingly strong grip.
"Uh, What just happened?" Nathan asked, sipping an espresso shot from a minute cup that was lost in the large black-nailed hand.
"Gotta be shome wierd Schandinavian thing. Did Toki schrew with all of the pancakesh?" Murderface said, looking down the table.
-----
"Good afternoon gentlemen, what brings about this unexpected visit--"
"Pickles saying Skwisgaar putting living t'ings up hims butt--"
"Tokis, we nots here to talks about dats, you dildo! Dis ams being an emergency!"
"--And dey actually *dies* ups his butt!"
"Toki, what Skwisgaar choses to do in his own time behind closed doors, however bizzare, is his business.--"
"For fucks sakes! I nots puttings not'ing up mine ass!"
"--But Pickle said dat you dids!"
"Nobodies listens! I nots putting t'ings up mine butt, and not'ing dies!"
"Gentlemen, I do have several meetings to attend this afternoon..."
"--And he takes mine wordsearch aways! And nows I not sures ifs I can remembers where da longest words was!"
"Skwisgaar, give Toki back his wordsearch please, it isn't nice to take other people's things without asking." Charles said, taking off his glasses and pinching the bridge of his nose.
"Nej! Here, you needs to looks at dis, right now!" Skwisgaar said, throwing the newspaper down onto Charles's desk. Immediately, Toki ran around the desk and continued with his puzzle over their manager's shoulder.
There was silence for a moment as Charles read and then re-read the article. He lifted the handset of his desk phone to his ear and dialled the appropriate extension for the Gibson R&D department in the dungeon: "Precisely. Why. Was. I. Not. Informed. Of. This. Development. Sooner?"
"Pickle only tells me abouts da ass death t'ing dis morning - I tellings you straights away!" Toki grumbled, searching for the ten-letter word that didn't have any remarkable letter combinations to make it obvious.
"Tokis. Dis am serious!" The Swede snapped, exasperated as Charles moved into the videoconference room.
"Ja, it is being serious! You takes mine wordsearches and sticks t'ings ups you butt dat dies!"
"Tokis, dat just stupids t'ing dat Pickle say! We is havings much biggings problems rights now!"
"Ja, I brokes mine favourite blue crayon when you drags me ups here." Toki whimpered - holding up the two pieces.
"Tokis. Listens to me. Gibsons mights being going bankrupt. Dat meanings no more guitars by dem." Skwisgaar sighed, sitting in Charles's chair and putting his head between his knees, trying to calm his mounting panic.
"Whats?" the Norwegian breathed, sinking down to the floor, his knees giving out from under him. Immediately Klokateers dashed into the office with the silver blankets usually wrapped around marathon runners as they crossed the finish line; carefully swaddling the shocked guitarists.
"Don't worry, Gentlemen, I'm taking care of it." Charles reassured from the doorframe to the conference room, pausing his call to Nashville.
"Whatever it takings, does it, Charlies. Whatever it takings." Skwisgaar said, his words ending on a sob.