Fictober Prompt 7: "That could have gone better."

Mission Critical Details

Hollis abruptly stopped typing. She rested her fingers on the keys, looking at Truman out of the corner of her eye. With a click of her tongue, she continued typing, her face illuminated by the light of her computer.

Truman sheepishly ran his fingers through his beard. He stood in her office like a kid about to receive a punishment from the vice principal. He shuffled his feet, curling his toes in his slippers. Wiping his damp brow with his long sleeve, Truman sighed.

She stopped again. Drumming her fingers on her desk, she gave Truman her full attention, her brows furrowed, as she said, "Run that part by me again."

"Must I?" he asked in a pathetic manner that would have sounded endearing to anyone but Hollis.

"You must. My report for the log about your kidnapping has to be accurate. No details missed, no details overlooked." The corner of her lip curled upward. "So, like I said, run that part by me again."

Truman's face grew hot. A red flush colored his cheeks. He gestured at her computer, gritting his molars. "You can read over what you just transcribed."

"I missed some of it since you rushed through it practically in one breath," she answered with a smile. "So, one more time. Run that part by me again, and let me warn you that I won't repeat myself for the fourth time."

He couldn't argue with her. Hollis was making a detailed report on the Maligula incident, and he couldn't withhold any information. His kidnapping had been a crucial component of her return; it was the starting factor that set off a chain of events no seer could have foreseen.

He sighed and looked her dead in the eyes. "Well, to go over it again, that obsequious little lickspittle had been incessantly chatting with me before I left headquarters. He took his sweet time sorting through packages other agents hadn't picked up when I only wanted a gift I ordered for Lili." He waited for Hollis to finish typing. "It was close to midnight when I finally left with it. I was exhausted. It was a long day in the office dealing with this budget problem, as you know."

"Oh, do I," Hollis snorted, lifting her gaze to the ceiling.

He puffed out a chuckle. "When I got home, I went right to bed. I didn't check any voicemails or other forms of communication. I didn't even take off my uniform." He tugged at his robe, which still had the faint odor of drool by his collar. He supposed the outfit going three days without a proper wash would do that to the thick fabric.

Hollis paused. She arched an eyebrow at him. "You did have that washed, though, right? I mean, recently. As in, today."

He waved off her concern. "Yes, yes, I did, but you know how these uniforms get even with a good cleaning. Sometimes, the smell lingers in the cloth."

"Which is why I don't wear it."

Truman raised his eyebrows and smirked. "Smart choice." He cleared his throat, and Hollis resumed typing. "Anyway, it must have been even later in the evening when the actual kidnapping happened. In the middle of the night, I woke up sensing someone in my room. I didn't have time to recognize them when pepper hit my face, and I sneezed out my brain," he explained, and he slapped his hands on his sides. "Other than that, I can't remember much of anything. Well, except for telling my daughter to stay away from the Rhombus of Ruin."

She questioned him as she stared at her screen, typing without looking. "And the one who kidnapped you was…?"

"The obsequious little lickspittle, otherwise known as Nick Johnsmith, otherwise known as Gristol Malik." Truman scowled, the chipper voice of that stooge ringing in his head like a bad case of tinnitus. Everyone had loved Nick. He had sung everyone's praises and kept the mailroom orderly and thriving. Truman hated him beyond rationality and sought any reason to fire him, but Nick was squeaky clean in mannerisms and efficiency. "If I had just dismissed him like I wanted to, Hollis, then none of this would have happened."

"Well, weighing the pros and cons here, we'd be sued for unlawful termination and put the Psychonauts in an even deeper financial hole," she replied, pressing her period key with more force than needed. She pushed back from her desk and crossed her legs. Lacing her fingers together, she set them on her knee and said, "Truman, you and I both know that could have gone better. I feel like this entire situation was avoidable if you had just installed some form of security system at your place like I suggested."

"Oh, I know, but I never thought a Grand Head like myself would find himself kidnapped," he muttered, rubbing his temples. Aches and pains existed all around his brain from days of inactivity. Although the physician in the medical bay gave him a clean bill of health, he still felt fatigued. He slumped into the rounded seat across from Hollis' desk, Hollis' eyes widening as he groaned.

"I'm fine," he insisted when she started to rise. "Just exhausted."

She smirked, leaning into her armrest. "Oh, are you? Then, you should watch out if you decide to take a nap in your office later today. Someone from the mailroom might steal your brain again."

Truman tossed his head up and laughed from the pit of his stomach. He held his brow, leaning far back in his seat, and he felt himself slide down. Pressing his slippers to the floor, he pushed himself upright and said, "Hey, I don't nap in my office."

"You absolutely do!" she exclaimed, grinning and shaking her finger. "You call it a meditation session, but I know when someone's faking it. You're not Milla, Truman. No amount of pretending can fool me." She reclined back in her seat and brushed her fingers through her thick curls. "After all, I'm a doctor."

"An esteemed one, too," Truman said, nodding to himself out of respect for her.

Hollis returned to her work. She collected her paperwork off her desk and neatly organized them. "But speaking of sleep, you should rest. You've spent a long time being out of your body."

He brightened. Any opportunity to skip work was like a treasure, and he'd be a fool to let it slip between his fingers. "Don't mind if I do," he chirped, hobbling to his feet. Tightening his cloth belt, he noticed Hollis staring at his robe. "What?"

"Make sure you don't fall asleep in that."

"Why?"

"Because you're going to drool all over it again and make it smell even worse," she said, and he burst into a wild laughing fit that reverberated off the walls of her office.