Work Text:
Jack Fain wasn't a popular character inside Joey Drew Studios.
Now, Norman Polk had nothing against Jack. He used to go down to the sewers sometimes to bring the lyricist a cup of coffee and chat.
Mr. Jack Fain was a pleasant fellow, but a lesser known one inside the studio. Norman had a reputation for being nosy and a sleuth, Sammy Lawrence had a reputation for being constantly irritable, and Shawn Flynn and Wally Franks have reputations as resident pranksters. But Jack had no reputation. He came to the studio at the same time Sammy did (earlier than everyone except Wally), went down to the sewers, and you'd be lucky to see him once or twice before the end of the day.
Because of Jack hiding in the sewers all the time, working away, it came as no surprise that he didn't have a widespread reputation. No one thought about him much.
Which meant no one other than Norman Polk, Wally Franks, Shawn Flynn (who knew of Jack from Wally), and Sammy Lawrence noticed Jack's disappearance.
Most workers didn't take it as a big deal. Search the sewers again. He has got to be down there, they'd say.
Oh, Sammy Lawrence tore up the sewers and the entire studio looking for the hat-wearing lyricist. He got the entire Music Department shut down for three days, just to make sure Jack wasn't actually there, to Mr. Joey Drew's annoyance.
The search came up with nothing. Someone reported Jack's disappearance to the cops. It got around to the press because of Jack and Sammy's past, and everything went back to normal.
As normal as it could get inside Joey Drew Studios.
The only real consequences of the whole mess was that Sammy was more irritable and hid in his “sanctuary” more, Thomas Connor would always look more guilty when he came down to the Music Department to fix those pipes, and Wally had a sadder vibe to him.
But those were the only consequences. It didn't affect anyone's work. Jack himself wasn't important enough to do that. Sammy could make lyrics if he had to, and some somewhat lyric-savvy band members would make some as overtime.
Mr. Drew offered Sammy time off to grieve, but he refused, so everyone got right back to work.
Things went on.
At least, they did until today.
No one could find Sammy today, and everyone knew damn well that he clocked in. The entire band saw him. Norman saw him.
He wasn't in that sanctuary of his (Wally knew how to get in, but he wouldn't tell anyone how), he wasn't in his office; he wasn't down in Mr. Drew's office for a meeting, and he wasn't in the break room.
People were fearing the worst. Sammy Lawrence up and disappeared, as that lyricist did months ago.
Unlike with Jack, people didn't tear up the studio looking for him.
No one in the studio was close enough to know where Sammy would go.
No one had any critical thinking skills in times it mattered too, apparently, because Norman thought it was pretty obvious where Sammy was.
The last place anyone saw Jack. Where everyone assumed he'd been those first few hours before Sammy got everything shut down.
The sewers.
It was confirmed when Norman, shoes and part of his pants stained with sewage and ink, made it to Jack's office. A small space carved into the wall with a wooden chair, a wooden desk with a metal bucket under it, a violin, one of Jack's many mugs, an unopened can of bacon soup, and a bunch of unfinished compositions.
Currently, the office also contained Sammy Lawrence, who sat on the floor. Leaving everything untouched.
Mr. Drew had wanted to repurpose said office. Let a GENT member take it over. But Sammy refused to let him. Threatened that if he didn't leave it all untouched, he'd quit on the spot.
Sammy was taking his own words to heart, not touching everything. Not moving anything, even an inch.
Sammy hadn't noticed him yet. It was obvious Sammy hadn't because he still sat there, head hidden in his knees, hair ink-stained and let down.
Norman didn't hear any sobs. Didn't see no tears hit the floor.
Sammy Lawrence was never much of a crier.
Norman forced a cough, causing Sammy to look up way faster than what could be comfortable.
Sammy had bags under his eyes, darker than ever.
"What have I told you about creeping around, Norman," Sammy said, deadpan. He put none of his usual energy into it.
"I wasn't creepin' around. I came down here to find ya. Everyone's startin' to think you died,"
An ill thing to say, if Sammy's weak glare said anything.
"Tell them I'm fine and to get back to work. I assume they're smart enough to figure out what to do without me holding their hand. They're adults."
Norman took a mental note about the implications of that. Adults needed someone to hold their hand too, sometimes. Did Sammy ever have someone to hold his?
If he did, that someone was the missing Jack Fain, and Norman knew better than to bring any of that up.
"If you needed a break to mourn, you could have told one of us, Sammy Lawrence. No one's judgin' or tattlin'," Norman said.
Sammy avoided looking at him, instead looking down at the wooden planks.
He subtly nodded, though. Which was more than Norman expected, and it clarified that Sammy listened.
"... I know. Now get back to work."
That was Sammy's way of saying this conversation was done and to leave in the least rude way he could muster.
Sammy may be weird, but he wasn't the type to flake on his work. He'd be back up soon. Norman didn't see a reason to stick around. Especially if Sammy didn't want him to.
He had a good guess why Sammy was down here. He had confirmation that Sammy was alive, and he'd gotten a bit more analyzing done.
So, he stepped off the platform. Glancing back at Sammy one more time before trudging back through the sewers. Thinking about what he'd tell his co-workers other than "Sammy's mourning" the entire way up, well aware he wouldn't appreciate it, even though he couldn't be judged.