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Oh no. Small Mike ran down the hallway, barely avoiding all the other employees. Oh no, no, no. Tenna was in a foul mood today and, surprisingly, rightfully so. Everything had been going wrong since the morning: cameras not working, lights burning out, curtains falling, contestants late, all that jazz. It's been going on up until the afternoon and the whole studio was running ragged trying to fix all the technical difficulties. Of course, Tenna took it the hardest. He was the show's host, after all, and a very emotional one at that. It was already terrible as it was, but maybe it wouldn't have been so bad if the ratings didn't drop either. The viewer base of today was almost half less than average, which was probably what pushed Tenna past his breaking point.
Tenna's breaking point. Usually, it manifested in him screaming bloody murder and snapping at everyone who dared appear in his line of sight. Sometimes, he'd even knock some things over if he was feeling particularly hopeless. But today, it was worse. Way worse. Instead of causing absolute havoc in the entire studio, he had shut himself alone in the broom closet. For someone who didn't know Tenna, it might've sounded better than what is considered usual. But for the studio crew? They would've much rather been yelled at. The TV shutting himself down like this made him completely uncooperative, refusing to leave the small room. And that meant that the show absolutely could NOT go on. A show without a host? A show without a host was like a movie without actors!
Hence Small Mike's rush and panic. He was already completely exhausted as he was; Jongler and Pluey were stuck at their out-of-costume shifts, so they didn't even get a moment to slip off and change places with Battat the whole entire day. He felt like his legs were going to go numb and disconnect from his body. He was panting like a dog, barely able to catch a breath through that tight mask he was wearing. Wearing his costume was absolutely nightmarish with how many layers it had, and in that moment, he was running as if the personification of death itself was chasing after him. As if he hadn't been running around the entire building for over seven hours now. He was sure his heart was going to explode after the adrenaline wore off with how fast it was beating. And if that wasn't going to be the case, he was, at the very least, going to throw up his nonexistent breakfast.
He silently thanked the Angel when he finally reached the door of the broom closet. He came to a screeching halt in front of it, putting his hands on his knees as he breathed heavily. His lungs were burning as if he was sick. He coughed a little before gulping, trying to pull himself together. Slumped, he lifted his hands from his legs and knocked on the door with as much strength as he could. "Th-... Tenna? You- huff... You in there, friend??" It was quiet for a moment, before: "... Go away..." a faint voice responded. Ah, damn it. That wasn't good. Small Mike grinned weakly, forcing on a more cheerful and charismatic tone. "Come on, buddy! You're not gonna let your ol' Mikey in?? Let me see ya, I just wanna talk!" he called out with false positivity. In reality, he felt absolutely pathetic and helpless. But what was he supposed to do?? "... There's nothing to talk about..." His grin twitched, faltering a little. "Well, there's always something to talk about with ME around! They don't call me "Motormouth Mike" for nothing!" It went quiet. Tenna didn't respond for some time. Battat gritted his teeth, clenching his fists. He felt the urge to kick the door and scream at Tenna, to tell him to get over himself and that he couldn't just- "What are you feeling."
His expression went blank in confusion. "Wh... Pardon??" he asked, bewildered. "... Are you feeling Pluey...? Or cowboy-ish...?" Battat pressed his lips into a thin line, suddenly feeling nervous and small. Way smaller than usual. "... Neither." he answered, more feebly than he meant to. He felt something go up his throat, and it wasn't nausea from running this time. Pluey or cowboy-ish. Two options. Would Tenna rather Jongler or Pluey in that moment? The thought made the Pippin feel awful for some reason. It caused the confidence he had as Mike to start leaving very quickly, and the silence was killing him from the inside. The quiet dragged out for what felt like eternity before the TV host spoke again. "... Come in..." Small Mike let out a soundless sigh of relief, like a weight had just been lifted off of his chest. He couldn't tell whether Tenna sounded disappointed or not, but the only thing that really mattered was that he had his approval. For now, anyway. He took in a short but deep breath in, before coughing again, accidentally choking on air. He cleared his throat when he was done suffocating and straightened up before reaching his hand towards the doorknob.
The door slowly creaked open to reveal Tenna, smaller than usual, with his screen black and on standby, curled up in the far left corner. Despite this, Battat was pleasantly surprised. He had expected the other to shrink down completely, but he was still much taller than him, just a bit smaller than usual. His mood couldn't have been SO bad then, right? He could work with that. "Hehey, boss...!" he chuckled nervously with his heart still pounding in his chest, walking in and closing the door behind him. His hand never left the doorknob, though. Everybody who has ever worked for Tenna knew that the line between sadness and anger was a VERY thin one in his case. And no one ever wanted to stick around for that. Especially not in a confined, secluded space. "How's, uh... How ya feeling? Any better?" Tenna didn't respond for a while before slowly shaking his TV head. Small Mike clicked his tongue and hissed briefly, his grin slightly faltering. "Yeah, didn't think so... Um..." he looked at a wall for a moment before turning his head back towards him. "D'ya want something to cheer you up? A cup of coffee? A snack? An antenna massage??" he questioned, trying to suggest as many possibilities as he could without overwhelming the other. The host didn't respond for an uncomfortable amount of time, sitting almost completely still. Battat could feel his hands getting sweaty underneath his gloves, his grip on the knob growing tighter. Normally, Tenna was painfully easy to read. But now that his screen was off and his body gave away nothing, the Pippin could feel his control over the situation slipping, and it made him feel like he was going to suffocate because of it. That, or because his lungs were still burning from exhaustion.
"... Come here." Tenna eventually spoke in a quiet, neutral tone. The other was caught off-guard, his expression going blank for a moment before he forced on a wide grin. It was fine. There was ONLY a 50% chance he was going to be used as a stress toy and squeezed until his ribcage would break and fall apart! He managed to gaslight himself into believing that the 1:2 odds weren't so tragic a long time ago. He hesitated for a moment before reluctantly letting go of the door handle and slowly approaching him. Tenna, however, seemed to have gotten a little impatient. He reached his arm out and wrapped it around the other, swiftly pulling him closer. The startled Darkner ended up being yanked against his chest and held in a firm embrace. Battat's brain short-circuited for a moment before it came back to life. So they were doing this now. Great. Well, at least he wasn't being squeezed to death. But the tight hold didn't help his sore limbs at all. He tried to shift to a more comfortable position, but he could barely move. Amazing. But it seemed as though Tenna was calming down, so he didn't dare to complain. He didn't want to set the other off and make his mood worse than what it already- wait, what was he doing.
Small Mike froze when he felt the TV's hand go under his suit, beneath his padded costume, and rest on his back. Was it an accident? Did his hand slip? But the host didn't even hesitate nor did he move his hand back. Battat felt his heart start beating faster. That was bad. That was REALLY bad. He was touching HIM. Not the costume, HIM. He began squirming restlessly, silently panicking. He wanted to say something but he couldn't choke anything out. He had to do SOMETHING! He couldn't let Tenna realize that he wasn't touching Mike, but someone in a Mike disguise! He couldn't have his boss catching on to the contrast between the soft and round costume, and the cold and boney body he was currently feeling! He recognized himself being held a bit tighter, clearly trying to get him to stop struggling, but he couldn't. He couldn't! He had to think of SOMETHING! To refuse, to move away, to-!
But he didn't even get to find his voice yet as two fingers carefully pressed against the space between his shoulder blades, gently digging in and rubbing the spot. Suddenly, it was as if a switch had been flipped. The Darkner's body was almost instantly relieved of most of the aching and strain, and so was his brain. All his worries had seemingly vanished the moment his limbs stopped hurting, and he couldn't stop himself from going limp in Tenna's embrace. His lungs finally stopped burning. If it wasn't for the unexpected sleepiness that overtook him, he would've been completely bewildered. He had no idea his body had a weak spot like that. Not one that felt so good. Was it something all the Pippins had, or was it just him?
He felt his eyelids get heavier despite himself. He couldn't find it in him to feel anxious about Tenna finding out he was in a costume anymore, not when he was being held so securely. The other's grip grew more affectionate, supporting the smaller Darkner under his legs and against his own chest. The two fingers never stopped massaging the spot and Battat found himself in a state between the real world and dreamland. He could barely tilt his head up to look at the host's head to find that his screen had turned back on, and was staring forward at nothing in particular. "... Boss...?" he mumbled drowsily. "Shhh..." Tenna gently shushed him. "Just let me have this..." he looked down at him and smiled slightly. "Let US have this." That reassurance was enough for the dice to doze off completely, fully slumping against him.
Seeing the other fall asleep, the TV leaned against the wall with a sigh, his tiny smirk faltering. He stared at a wall with a neutral expression for a moment before his hand started to wander. Careful not to wake the smaller one up, it went from his back to his neck, right underneath his head. His fake head. Tenna looked down. He hesitated for a moment. Should he...? His restraint didn't last long, though, and he gently lifted the costume piece up, revealing the sleeping Pippin's head. He smiled again, genuinely this time. He looked so small and innocent, just peacefully napping against his chest like that. If only Battat knew that Tenna knew. The host would've loved to tell him just how endearing he was, even more so than the other dice. If only he knew... But, if he knew, he would stop, wouldn't he? All three of them would. And then, he'd be all alone again. No Mike. No one to feel close with. Even if they weren't Mike, they were still the best thing he could get. And he had gotten used to it. He had gotten used to having them around, peeking underneath their masks whenever he could, subtly accommodating their unsaid, Darkner-specific needs. He liked the three of them for different reasons: the Zapper was awkwardly sweet, the Shadowguy was good at listening and comforting, and this one was just plain cute. All Pippins were cute, but he was especially adorable with all his energy and his little Mike obsession. Yeah, he'd seen the corkboard. And he thought it was just the most precious thing ever. He never got tired of reading through all the new, silly, and even outlandish theories.
He hated having to pretend like they were just another few employees when they were out of their costumes. He despised yelling at them and scolding them when all he wanted to do was to hold them in his arms and never let them go. He knew he had to keep up the act of not knowing about the entire scheme, but it was hard. That was why, whenever he could, he'd jump at the opportunity to get into a situation like this. Where he could just be with one of them in his embrace, without having to pretend he didn't know they weren't Mike. Like he didn't find them all endearing. He may have been too forward this time around though, but he was sure if he just played it off once the other woke up, everything would be fine. For now, he was just going to enjoy the time he had left before the next recording session.