"I'm taking a bath," Mako told Jamison. Under the curve of his muscular left arm was a small wicker basket filled with his relax day materials. Bath salts, high end body wash, shampoo, and conditioner; he spoiled himself when it came to his relax day. He also had the fluffiest towel he owned draped over his right shoulder.
"You want me to wash yer back?" asked Jamison. A gasp came from him and he closed the space between him and Mako. He grabbed ahold of Mako's tie, twisting it around his hand, and a pick blush appeared across his freckled cheeks. "Of maybe ya want me to wash yer body?" His tail wiggled suggestively behind his body, orange eyes full with lust, and his free hand pressed against Mako's stomach. "I know how to be rrrrrr-real thorough too…"
It took all the strength and willpower in Mako's body to not grab Jamison by the twiggy neck and snap it like a toothpick. He wouldn't be much of a servant if he had a broken neck. His right hand clasped around the entirety of Jamison's triangular head, giving it a tiny squeeze. Those orange eyes of his widened as fear replaced the lust almost immediately and he released the tie, causing it to slip slowly from his hold. Mako smirked. Though Jamison was some sort of god, at least the little shit knew who was in charge under this roof.
"I don't need your help," Mako responded then let go of his head. "I want you to hold down the fort while I'm taking my bath. And take any calls that come in."
Jamison cocked his head to the side and his ears flicked. "What's a calls?"
Right, rat god. He almost forgotten who and what he was dealing with. Mako motioned to the phone nearby on top of several year old phonebooks. It was an old model of phone, with a coiled cord connected to the receiver and hooked to the wall by a landline. He never like the fancy new phone; call him old-fashion. "This is a phone," he explained. "You make and answer calls with it. When it rings, you pick up the receiver. They talk then you talk. Got it?"
"Sounds easy enough," Jamison replied.
"Good," Mako said with a nod of his head. He started to head for the bathroom but stopped in his tracks before he opened the door. "And Jamison?" he added, eyes still on the door.
The servant stood at attention right when his name was called. "Yeah, Mister Rutledge?" he answered obediently.
"Don't fuck this up." Mako's order was rough like sandpaper and he disappeared into the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind him.
Jamison smiled from ear to ear and bounced on the tips of his toes. "I won't let you down, Mister Rutledge. I'll certainly win yer love 'n praise!" A frown replaced his smile in an instant and he halted in his excited hopping to scratch his chin in confusion. How was he going to do that? Holding down the fort? The familiar images of humans in suits of armor guarding castles and towns came to mind from back home. Was that what he meant?
He couldn't make heads or tails with the whole 'holding down the fort' thing. It was beginning to frustrate him. Jamison's eyes then fell upon the phone Mister Rutledge showed him earlier.
"So this is what humans use fer communication?" Jamison mumbled to himself. His fingertips touched the white plastic of the phone and his index finger traced down the length of the receiver. It was difficult to hide the smug grin on his face. "What an inferior species…" He picked up the receiver and put it up against his left ear. Maybe someone could help him out with understanding this 'holding down the fort'. Jamison summoned a small orange magic circle over the phone and it rang once before the person on the other side picked up.
"Moshi moshi," a male voice greeted.
"Hanzo!" Jamison said. "Just the dragon I wanna talk to!"
"Jamison? Thought you were dead." He sounded disappointed.
"It takes more than a few humans to drag this rat down!" Jamison countered. "I was wonderin' what you know 'bout holdin' down forts."
The air around the phone grew thick with tension and hostility but it did not detour Jamison. "Kill at the intruders whom step into your territory." Hanzo's monotonous voice leaked out the phone like toxic sludge. "Strike where they least expect it. Kill them with curses. Turn their bones into dust. Protect what is rightfully yours."
After that statement, Jamison hung up the phone with a satisfied smile on his face. The he remembered that Mister Rutledge didn't want him to kill anyone and his shoulders stumped in defeat. What was he going to do now? The rules in this world were too strict for him. A litter bit of murder here and there never hurt anyone. Another person came to mind who he could get advice from and he picked up the receiver again. This one would certainly work this time. The phone rang several times then the person on the other end picked up.
"'Ey Lu!" Jamison greeted with much fondness. "Haven't talked to ya in, what, forever?"
"Jamie? Is that you?" The male voice over the phone tenderly. "It's been ages! How are you?"
For the longest time, the two men caught up with each other. Jamison almost forgot what he originally called for, lost in memories of past events. It was when Lu brought up why he was calling that Jamison remembered. Jamison quickly relayed his problem to his friend.
"So this Rutledge character wants you to protect his territory without murdering people?" Lu concluded.
"Yeah! I mean, how am I 'pose to not kill people?" Jamison stated, displeased. "A God of Mayhem has to kill or why would they be a God in the first place?"
"Hmm. What you need are wards, Jamie."
"Wards?" Jamison repeated. "Ya mean the spells you usually use, right?"
"You got it. Wards keep bad things out without the messiness of murder." Lu informed. "They're easy to put up. Just place them in every entrance way for complete coverage of the territory."
Jamison was quick to make a mental note of everything his friend told him. Wards: place them in entrances; got it. Easy enough for even someone like him.
"And Jamie?"
Jamison perked up at the sound of his nickname being called. "Hmm?"
"Are you…happy with this Mister Rutledge? And living in the humans' world?" The way Lu said those words, Jamison could feel the uncertainty and the familiar sense of longing from over the phone. A soft sigh passed his lips and he closed his eyes. Waves of nostalgia came over him and the smell of tropic air wafted pass his nose for only a moment before fading back to the stuffy scent of the apartment.
With a slow nod and a tiny smile, Jamison answered, "I am." There wasn't a doubt in his mind that he made the right choice. To be in this world by Mister Rutledge's side; the thought brought a blush to Jamison's cheeks. This was where he truly belonged.
Clouds of hot steams bellowed out of the bathroom as the door was thrown open. Mako, with a towel wrapped tight below his belly and wet hair strands stuck to his face, stepped out into the chilled air of the apartment. All the aches and pains he felt before drained away with the warm bath water in the tub. As much as he wanted to stay and melt into the tub, Mako had to finish his bath. He didn't want to leave Jamison by himself for too long.
Another step into the room and Mako realized quickly that something was wrong. When Mako attempted to walk towards his bedroom, he found himself unable to move any further. No matter how much he tried to move, his legs refused to obey his commands. He was able to move the rest of his body, only his legs would not move.
"Jamison?" Mako called out. He knew that his new servant had to be behind the cause of his sudden paralysis.
The man popped up from the couch and draped his body over the back of the furniture. "Took ya long enough! Do all you humans take that long to just wash yerself? I just roll 'round in the dirt to get all the bugs out my fur. Why can't humans do that?"
"Is there a reason I can't move my legs?" Mako asked, ignoring everything Jamison had told him.
"'Cause I put up a bunch of Hold Person wards 'round the whole place!" replied Jamison as he waved his arms in the air. "You told me to hold down the fort without killin' anyone and I did! I put them everywhere so no one could just walk in 'n do whatever they want. Pretty good, right?"
Mako was irritated, yeah, but Jamison did do what he was supposed to do. Even if that meant he was unable to move for the moment. He followed his orders in his own way, the only way he knew how. "Yeah," Mako said with a tired nod. "You did. Good job."
Jamison gasped. His eyes grew large in shock, his cheeks went rosy, and his ears fluttered like a pair of bird's wings. With a gitty laugh, Jamison leapt off the couch, arms extended towards the larger man. Mako didn't make the effort to raise his hands and catch him. Hell, he braced himself for the twiggy man to crash into him and fall to the floor. He didn't collide with him. Instead, Jamison curled his long arms around Mako's muscular neck and let his body dangle while he nuzzled his cheek against Mako's lovingly. Chatters and clicks came from Jamison, loud and very vocal.
Mako wanted to rip him off, throw him to the floor, and demand him to remove the ward from hi. Though Mako never did it and he remained there with his arms at his sides, minimizing contact with the touchy-feely man. Like he needed to live some kind of fictional fantasy were he fell for his manic servant. That kind of romantic plot was better in the graphic novels and books he collected.