Chapter Text
Sir Pentious hated molting. He hated the fact that there was no rhyme or reason to when it started. Hated the fact that he had to stop everything and hide until it was over. Hated how it made his skin itch and covered all of his eyes, rendering him completely blind and helpless.
It forced him to rely on his minions to tend to his needs as he sent them out to fetch him whatever would help speed up the process the fastest.
Though, Pentious did have to admit to one singular benefit to this occasional torture: it was the one and only time he was completely, one hundred percent blind.
Every eye was covered by the thin membrane-like shell of himself, giving him the one thing he craved since his arrival to Hell- a break.
At least one eye was always open somewhere on his body- taking in information about his surroundings and keeping his mind awake, even as he slept. His molts were the only times he could get any true and proper sleep. Despite the unfortunate necessity of the act itself, Sir Pentious made the most of it.
Thankfully, the other hotel residents were so busy with their own issues, none of them realized how dull and almost white Pentious’s scales were. They didn’t notice when he would occasionally run into things, nor did they pay attention to the significance of Frank leading him by the hand so long as he kept his chin up as he always had.
It was actually Frank’s idea, believe it or not. The little egg had come in the clutch several decades before either of them even knew the hotel existed. It gave them plenty of time to work out a system of silent communication by way of squeezing each other’s hands like telegraphing.
The pair had become so good at it that their conversations were quick and unnoticeable unless one were paying their full attention to their practically conjoined hands. To start, a single squeeze was all one needed to get the other’s attention. To shorten some sentences, if either were asking a simple question, one squeeze meant yes, two for no, and three for maybe. One long squeeze was a cry for help.
Pentious’s hand ached as he squeezed his little minion’s hand for nearly a full minute now.
Just because Pen couldn’t see, didn’t mean he couldn’t hear. And hear he did as Frank rambled on to- Ms. Morningstar, was it? He couldn’t tell. All the colors and shapes blurred together beneath those damned caps, and he wasn’t paying too much attention to them when his whole body felt like he was being eaten alive by fire ants.
Pentious squeezes a little harder. Frank pats his hand in acknowledgment, as if Pentious was a child and Frank was silently asking him to be patient. Pentious hisses and growls under his breath at his stupid little minion, his tongue flicking in and out faster and faster the more his irritation grew.
“Thank you, Ms. Vaggie! It’s just for an hour!” Frank crows, finally tugging Pentious along as the two split ways.
Oh. Well. Not Ms. Morningstar then.
Pentious’s hand clenches in a rapid pattern, one that surprises himself that Frank was even remotely able to parse it enough to respond.
{What was that about?!}
{I asked Ms. Vaggie if we could use her bathtub!} Frank responds cheerfully.
{WHAT?!} Pentious wrings his hand harshly over Frank’s, and he could hear the little egg wince. Frank quickly answers the moment Pentious eases up enough to let him speak.
{I just thought that it would be better for you to have somewhere to lay down and soak in, like on the ship! Better than standing in the shower, right?} Frank pats Pentious’s hand a second time, but this one showcased just how pleased Frank was with himself for coming up with his ridiculous plan.
Pentious seethes as Frank continues to lead him forward to what was apparently going to be Ms. Morningstar’s and Vagatha’s own personal bath tub.
A long silence stretches between the two, and Pentious begins to wonder if Frank was taking the long way to get to the couple’s room on purpose, or if they were lost. Again.
{You better not have told her why.} Sir Pentious snarls.
{Nope! I told her you were having trouble with tight muscles and needed a hot bath to loosen up!} Frank positively beamed at the lie. It wasn’t… that… bad, actually. It was really a decent, believable lie.
Pentious did often complain about sore muscles, considering his body was nothing but. He also bemoaned about all the metal he lugged around, building his contraptions to the annoyance of Vagatha and disappointment of Ms. Morningstar.
Speak of the devil-
“Sir Pentious! Hi! What brings you up to my room? Is everything alright? Can I help you with anything?” Charlie rambles. Sir Pentious clears his throat, cutting her off and grabbing her attention.
Thank god! He wasn’t sure how much longer he could last; his scales were on FIRE!
“Ms. Vagatha has given me the approval to borrow your facilities for one full hour.” Pentious clips. He tried not to squirm too much- tried not to show his discomfort in front of her in the worry that she would see him as weak for it.
Instead, the princess gasps.
“Of course you can, Pentious! Do you want me to bring you anything? Snacks? A drink? Fresh towel?” The girl charges forward, steamrolling over any chance Pentious had of answering her.
“No, thank you,” Pentious snaps, “My minion here will take care of anything I need.” He hisses sharply. A pang of guilt settles into Pentious’s chest at the taken-aback gasp Charlie gave him for his callousness. She was being so nice allowing him to use her things, and he was being a jerk to her!
Fuck, he hoped she wasn’t too upset so he had a chance to explain later. Maybe he’d bake her some cookies as an apology…
Speaking of which-.
{BURNS!} Pentious crushes Frank’s hand in his with every squeeze, and the little egg jolts into motion. Frank practically sprints past Ms. Morningstar with a fleeting ‘thank you,’ dragging his boss into the bathroom and slamming the door behind them.