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Mumbo sighs, head leaning back against the barely cool stone exterior of the farm, even though he knows very well it has erased all progress of becoming AFK.
He can't bring himself to mind, not yet, not with the heat of the nether brushing against his face and making his suit feel itchy, warm and tight. On the nether roof, it is marginally cooler than below, but any relief it offers is negated by the lack of wind.
Without the gusts of air stirred by shifting lava vents and the mixing of heat from lava lakes and the cooler crevices of the nether, there is nothing to wick away his sweat - nothing to offer any form of relief from the sweltering heat.
It is too still here, with practically nothing to disturb the solemn lonely feeling that comes with the Nether roof - the lack of all colors, all landmarks swallowed by grey fog making every stay a little uncomfortable.
Despite the fact that if he were to go AFK, it would all melt away - that he could disappear into his headspace, and zone out for hours at a time - Mumbo taps his fingers to one knee, drumming out the beat of Wonderwall. It doesn't help the boredom, but it does alleviate some of the stiff, stillness here.
A particularly loud ghast screeches in the distance, cut off as it is dragged into the overworld by glimmering purple. It will be dead in seconds.
Mumbo starts to hum - the chorus of wonderwall building from the beat he’d tapped out, only, he can't quite recall how it goes (the instrumental version can only do so much) so it loops a little on itself.
His suit jacket feels itchy, and with a sigh Mumbo pulls it off, reattaching his elytra out of habit when he’s left in his dress shirt.
The removed layer does help a little with the stifling heat, but now he’s left with a jacket he cannot set down - the nether roof is rather dusty, and while it may not get blown away he is too proud of his wardrobe to risk losing a piece.
After fumbling a little, Mumbo ties the sleeves around his waist, looking down - the AFK resets again - and messing with it. He ties it too tightly on the first go around, and it practically falls off the second attempt. Draping it over his shoulders is an uncomfortable weight, and finally, with a little grumbling, he stands and walks over to his shulker and tosses the black jacket in with less care than he typically would.
Right. No more distractions.
… Or maybe just one. Something to tame his mind, to give him something to think about while waiting for his mind to fog over.
Mumbo checks his communicator.
It’s a dull day on the server, it seems - the most exciting thing being that Ren was somehow blown up by a goat, which was replied to by Doc with a simple “lol” and “got your stuff”.
He smiles a little, and spends a minute trying to think of a clever response, before finally sending “Goat for MCC.”
And then, because there’s nothing more to read, and because he’s bored and optimistic, Mumbo checks the timer he set for himself.
3:45:57
He groans, head thunking again as he drops it back. It felt so much longer - really, this is what AFK’ing was for, passing dull moments while thinking. Or, in Grian's case, hovering just at the phase of mindfulness and blankness, and observing how others acted around those who are completely out of it.
It just doesn’t help that the one thing that is considered universal - more than sleeping, more than breathing, because both can be affected by hybrid traits and personal mechanics - is the one thing he is absolutely pants at.
His foot is tapping, Wonderwall once again, and he can’t help it - but he glares down at the limb anyways, forcing it to still.
Of course, that doesn’t feel great either. He feels like he has… bees, except the bees are in the shape of the stupid song he’d put in front of his base, and really he should have chosen something a little less catchy.
Focus. Ignore the urge to move. Ignore the need to hum.
Mumbo clicks his communicator off, shoves it in his pocket, and after twenty seconds of sitting decidedly still, shoves it into a different place before taking it out, and tucking it underneath his thigh, because the way it was resting in his pocket suddenly felt wrong.
Focus.
He makes it two minutes and thirty-seven seconds (counted, because it was better to count down than to try and distract his mind, and then get distracted by how long it was taking, and then move because he needed to check the time) before a bead of sweat trickles down his back and he flinches.
“Pants,” Mumbo hisses, and swipes at his skin - except, it’s in that sweet spot that you can’t quite reach, and he squirms for a moment before finally catching it with his shirt, which is a little gross, but the usually-stiff fabric is soft with perspiration anyway, and-
Gross, actually. It’s just gross. He’s going to have to shower when he gets home, and throw these clothes in the washer, and-
He’s thinking too much about it, because now his pant leg is angled weirdly, and it’s like an itch that can’t be scratched. Or, you can scratch the itch, but its awareness, its discomfort, just moves to a different source, and his bangs are too long, aren’t they, because they’re getting in his eyes. Mumbo pushes them back, and resets the AFK, and swears.
Focus. He can focus. It’s only five minutes, and then he’ll be so out of it that it’ll take his communicator ringing to break him out of it, and-
Focus.
One minute.
Two minutes.
Three minutes. Mumbo’s internal countdown stutters over the time, and it gets too fast, and then too slow, and he’s not sure if he’s behind or ahead of the actual time, but he manages to count to four minutes…
Bzzt!
On reflex, Mumbo glances down, hand shifting to pick up his comm–
And he groans, loudly, before picking it up anyways.
Grian: Hey Mumbo
Grian: Want to prank Scar?
Mumbo glances up to the ghast farm and grimaces.
Well. It’s not like his attempt was working, anyways.
MumboJumbo: Sure, let me grab a shower first?
Grian: Ok
Grian: Let’s meet in 30 at the G-train.
Mumbo hefts himself up with more gusto than he’d ever given relaxing, and glares at the farm like it’s
its
fault that he couldn’t relax. Then, he grabs his shulker, and leaves the Nether as fast as possible.
(Mumbo did not, however, remember to turn off his timer - which goes off right as Grian and he are sneaking away from Scar, who catches them in the act, and completely ruins Grian’s prank. Grian vows to get Mumbo back for it. Overall, it is a rather unfortunate cherry to Mumbo’s already unfortunate attempt to AFK.)
(It does, however, incentivize him to beg Tango to AFK for him later, and that only costs a few diamonds in turn, along with a couple stacks of Ghast tears. The relief Mumbo feels at the idea of never having to sit in the Nether for hours on end, doing nothing, is well worth the price.)