Work Text:
SMASH
It seems like the Editor doesn't even notice the noise at first. He continues writing with his frilly little feather pen, barely listening to the sound of his goons getting beat to death outside of his office as he jots something down. Only when his door is effortlessly thrown off the hinges does he pay the slightest bit attention to what's happening around him.
Polyblank is standing in a gremlin-like position, face scrunched up in a scowl. The Editor merely blinks at him, continuing on with his writing as he speaks.
"What is it now ?"
The agent stumbles into the room, high on Missionoyl, as usual, signing rapidly at him.
"I need to take a thing. From you. The Director said it's somethin', like, square.... or something."
The Editor delicately places his pen down, leaning back in his chair and wiping off his horn-rimmed glasses before staring at Polyblank with a 'seriously ?' expression. He gestures around the room to the many square-shaped items, shrugging.
"You tell me, Polyblank. Also, while we're on the topic of squares, do you mind paying for that window you broke out in the hall ? At this rate, we won't be able to afford groceries this week. You've got to quit breaking things."
Polyblank waves his hands about, leaning back on his left leg and frowning at the gentleman behind the desk.
"You own a multi-million dollar company. We can afford groceries, Ed."
"I spend it all on weapons and such. It's not cheap to be the antagonist. Now, what was it you were sent for ? A square ?"
Polyblank shakes his head, holding his hands out in front of him. He closes his eyes, trying desperately to remember what the hell the Director had told him to come get.
The Editor sighs, allowing his boyfriend a few minutes. Glancing out the window, he remembers it's Thursday, and Polyblank is probably expecting lasagna when he gets home. The Editor makes a mental shopping list for sauce ingredients.
"It was...... Coughware. You know, the illegal one. Shaped like a square, and you stole it, and I have to get it."
Now it's the Editor's turn to puzzle over what that could be. He hasn't stolen Coughware in a while. There is, once again, a long pause as he ponders this request.
"Are you sure it was Coughware ? I just sent a few goons out for Sneezeware..... unless they took the wrong one...."
The Editor holds up finger up to Polyblank, who finally releases himself from the strange, crouched stance he'd been doing and stays put as the former walks out of the room. There's silence, and then a bit of yelling, and then some crashing, and a comical cat's yowl before The Editor storms back in, carrying a square piece of Coughware.
"Here you are, Poly. It seems my goons had taken the wrong material. I expect to see you back in a few days for the Sneezeware I will get around to stealing."
Polyblank gratefully accepts the Coughware, saluting The Editor as he turns to leave. The Editor sits himself back down before stopping Polyblank as he was about to walk out.
"I expect that window replacement money soon. Also, it'd be swell if you could pick up lasagna pasta and sauce on the way home. It's Thursday."
Polyblank sticks the middle finger up behind him as he exits. The Editor knows he will have to replace those windows himself. But luckily, Polyblank wouldn't dare miss out on Lasagna Thursday.