A Booklight Story by Grey (grey@greyandblack.com)
Knives hadn't planned on speaking to his subordinate - he had better things to do than play with untermensch. Still, something made him turn back as he breezed by, something he'd seen out of the corner of his eye...
Legato was sitting at the table reading, with a paperback in one hand and a bag of potato chips in the other. This was nothing out of the ordinary, as he'd probably borrowed Knives' copy of "Thus Spoke Zarathustra" again. Last time, the fool had gone through with a red pen and circled all the bits about sin, sending Knives into a week-long funk that ended with a day-long torture session.
This time, Legato didn't seem to be taking notes, which was a reassuring sign. Even so, there was something strange about the scene, something that gave Knives pause. He considered the scene carefully - metal table and chair, bag of chips with some sort of idiotic slogan on the front, booklight... wait.
Knives strode forward, cowing his servant as he plucked the portable light from the table. He turned it over and over in his hands, running his thumb over the little plastic shade.
"Legato, where did you get this?"
"I found it, Master, when I was following Vash the Stampede." A beat, then, "Eternal suffering to Vash the Stampede!"
"Yes, right, eternal suffering," Knives muttered distractedly. "Do you know what this is shaped like?"
"Of course, Master," Legato simpered. "It's a penis booklight."
Knives glanced at the light again, and then at his servant - light, Legato, the light again. At length, he placed the light back on the table gingerly, and then went on his way once more.
"Filthy human," he spat, wiping his hand off on his pant leg.