The guests broke into an uproarious laughter, drowning out Ross's grumbling stomach. Smiff, sitting at the head of the table, continued to regale them with tales of his various research projects and the obvious mistakes his 'lab assistants' Ross and Trott made.
"Honestly, though!" Smiff continued through the stifled chuckles of his guests, "I turned around and saw Trott and Ross standing on the top edge of the smeltery, Ross with his thumbs up his ass and Trott peering into the vat, and shouted at them 'what the fuck are you two up to?' It startled Ross so bad that he jumped in!" Again, the guests' laughter filled the room. "Trott said that he dropped his pickaxe into the forge and was trying to convince Ross to get it out. So I ran over, started cooling off the forge and emptying it to get Ross out of the molten metal, when Trott looks back into the vat and goes 'I think I see it!' I look in and see this crescent shape floating on top of the lava, and I turn to Trott and say 'no you stupid walrus, that's his rib!'"
The guests lost it. Kim hid her face in her arms on the table, Nilesy was cradling his stomach, and Duncan was slamming his fist on the table wildly. The shrill sound of shattered glass turned the teary gaze of the attendants to Duncan's grotesque, purple discolored fist. Dazed, he picked up his fist and began slowly pulling out the shards of glass embedded in his corrupt flesh.
"Duncan! Look what you've done!" Kim muttered between giggles. "I'm sorry, Smiff, he hasn't quite gotten used to them just yet."
The host simply shook his head and began blotting the stained table cloth with his napkin, both turning a strange purple. "It's perfectly fine, Kim. I'll have my servant bring out another one." He soothed, grinning as he turned to face Ross. "Wolf?" He beckoned, gesturing to the tablecloth with a nod of his head. The unkempt observer stepped out from the shadows of the room, wearing a white dress shirt that seemed far too small and black dress pants covered in patches of various fabrics. "Go grab a table cloth from the linen closet, if you could." Ross simply stared at his owner. Smiff sighed and rolled his eyes, "I'm sorry about this, he still isn't even housebroken" he remarked to his guests before turning back to address his servant after gathering up the stained tablecloth. "Ross?" He grinned at the grimacing beast before tossing the balled up cloth at him. "Fetch."
Ross growled softly to himself as their laughter echoed from the dining room, through the halls, and to the open linen closet where he was tearing folded clothes off the shelves. Towels, wash rags, dish rags, pillow cases, bed sheets, all being thrown to the floor in impotent anger. Suddenly, the man slammed his fist against the wooden shelf and winced, leaning his forehead against it. He shut his eyes and took a moment to calm down, damned if he was going to let Smiff get to him this time. Not much had changed about Smiff's personality; it was merely heightened, not altered. He had always been a sarcastic twat to him and Trott, purposely undermining their efforts just for a laugh. Smiff pushing him into the smeltery to retrieve the dropped tools was entirely normal for him prior to his addiction, so it came as no surprise that the flux would turn his friend into this.
And yet, he still felt betrayed. He and Trott had many conversations about Smiff as his habit grew more and more obvious. However, their plans came much too late, and the damage was done. Ross had no choice but to serve his old friend, but he'd be damned if he let Smiff embarrass him, especially in front of old rivals.
The armistice between the Hats and the 'Flux Buddies,' as Duncan and Kim had become colloquially known, was a shaky and temporary cease fire at best. Both sides had been worn down to the bones time and time again, nuke and nuke again. Smiff orchestrated the truce, an idea that seemed perfectly reasonable at the time. Only now did Ross see his true intentions, and why he was so willing to all but surrender to them. Trott and Ross saw it as him turning over a new leaf, an idea that now seems too naïve and foolish even for them.
At that point, Smiff's corruption had spread from his stomach and chest and was starting to peek over the collar of his fine, blue suit. Duncan's right arm had swollen purple completely, and the flux was starting to creep its way up his neck and cheek as well. Most likely under the guidance of Kim, who was already entirely half corrupted by that point, Duncan's rate of transformation surpassed that of Hannah's and Nilesy's, who were in the business of manufacturing the flux wine, let alone Smiff's who only handled it on occasion. However, after the truce, the corruption quickly spread up Smiff's face, branching out through his veins just below his eyes, and down his arms and legs, stopping at his elbows and knees. The flux corruption did something for Smiff, gave him some power that Trott and Ross would never be able to take away, but neither of them could figure out what.
Ross's concentration on his memories was shattered by Smiff's voice prancing down the hallways. "Oh werewolf, I believe I requested a new table cloth!" Ross shook himself back to reality and grabbed the folded linen, stepping out of the closet. Ross opened his mouth to shout a reply as he made his way back down the hall, but thought better of it. He silently returned to the dining room and began laying out the table cloth for the attendants. As he smoothed it out, stretching over the table, the wolf felt a warm hand stroke the nape of his neck.
"Such fine fur…" Kim whispered to herself, stroking his coarse, black hairs. Instinctively, the beast growled at her harshly and bore his teeth. In a flash, the servant was slammed into the wall and fell to the floor. Dazed, he looked up at Smiff standing above him, rubbing the back of his hand where he smacked his pet.
"It's quite alright, Kim, his bark is much worse than his bite."