Overworked? No. Exhausted? Nada. A word that could properly describe Flug's current condition most likely did not exist in any known lexicon. Not that he cared to find it. All that mattered to him, at this precise moment, was completing the invention his boss - THE MALEVOLENT, DIABOLICAL, EXISTENTIALLY EVIL AND HORRIFYING ~ahem~ Black Hat - ordered him to finish. And if he wanted his bag and head to remain on his person, he'd complete it by the unusually generous deadline of within 20 minutes.
"Almost done, haha," Flug exasperatingly proclaimed, undergoing several mini panic attacks at once. "I'm sure the boss will love this and then declare me his number one minion and then kick out Demencia and give me a raise, ha ha ha ha!"
Flug was just about to put on the finishing touches, until...
"The word you're looking for is 'dismorfagorfed'."
Seeing a triangular shadow over his invention, Flug turned around. However, rather than seeing the source, he instead saw that the entire room had transformed into some sort of ethereal plane. "What the- This isn't my lab. Where am I!?" he exclaimed. Turning around, rather than seeing his invention, he instead saw the angered face of Black Hat staring straight back at him.
Predictably, Flug fell out of his chair. "S-sir. I'm s-sorry. I just need one more minute. I-I-I..."
"Relax, bag boy," the same voice from earlier said. Suddenly the form of Black Hat dissipated into black smoke, revealing a golden triangular entity with one eye in the center. Grabbing the only thing that didn't dissipate, the hat, Bill shrunk it down until it matched his usual style and put it on. "Don't have a heart attack, Flug. Well, actually, you probably should at some point. Because I've seen your fate, and let me tell you, even I know limbs aren't supposed to bend like that."
"Who are you!? How do you know my name!?"
"Ah, yes. The usual questions. Let's cut to the chase, kid. The name's Bill Cipher, and boy, do I have a proposition for you!"
"Sh, sh, let me stop you there," Flug put a finger in front of Bill's face. "I don't know what you want with me, but I already work for a boss who wears a black top hat and invades my dreams. So if you're looking to hire my services, you're going to have to go through official channels."
"Ah, yes, the infamous Black Hat. How could I forget that fashion-stealing poser? Listen, I'm not so much looking to 'hire your services' as I am to strike up a partnership. From one intelligent entity to another. Eh? Eh?"
"Uh huh, uh huh." Flug stood up and crossed his arms, clearly not impressed. He knew this Bill's type. The being would gain his trust through flattery and then later stab him in the back. "You'll have to try better than that to tempt me."
"Gee, tough crowd. I can see the guy who names himself after a fashion accessory keeps some tough minions around. If only he appreciated you more…"
"Black Hat DOES appreciate me."
"But does he?"
"Gah, I know what you're doing! You're trying to get in my head and weaken my resolve by prodding my self-esteem so that you can then transform this into a thing where I accept your offer under the pretense that it'll make Black Hat appreciate me and/or make me more powerful than him. That is such a classic villain move. And If it were some stupid hero or B-grade villain, it might've worked."
"Wow. You really are ahead on these things. Except you've missed one teency-weency little detail."
"What!?"
"I'm already in your head, pal! Ah, ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!"
Suddenly, Flug woke up. Rubbing his goggles, the first thing he witnessed was his completed invention, made even better than the schematics.
On it was a post-it-note that read the following: "Been a while since I've met a two-dimensional being with more than two brain cells to rub together. In honor of our yet-to-be-established partnership, here's a freebie. On the house."
In response, Flug growled at the note, crumpled it up, and then threw it at the trash. He already had one eldritch top-hat wearing deity of unspeakable evil and darkness in his life. He didn't need another one.