Quackity pinched his nose bridge as he flopped back down into his seat after escorting Wilbur out of Las Nevadas once again.

That man– zombie-man simply refused to listen, didn't he?

Quackity shook his head with disdain, maybe one day Wilbur would figure out how to be cooperative but it seemed today was not that day.

So he sighed, placing his elbows on his thick and sturdy dark wooden desk that was covered with random papers, probably a few of them being contracts that he had yet to even read, and a random book left open, it's pages offering Quackity nothing of interest as he closed it and put it to the side and fixed up his ink feather pen to make it look even neater.

Then as if Wilbur had never come in here, Quackity got back to work, picking up a packet of papers held together by a small silver staple that was close to falling out. He methodically eyed the contents of the front page and swiftly flipped to the other side, the still dull air matching his posture. Simply seated in the chair, gaze trained on papers and only moving his arms.

Quackity grew more and more robotic and repetitive with his motions, read and flip, read and flip until it was all he knew for a moment, all he could do as his mind got fuzzy, blocking anything else out in order to make way for the continuous read and flip.

But of course, Quackity couldn't do much without a distraction as a knock came from the door and Quackity sat up straight, mild disbelief already striking over him because there was really only one person it could be.

"Piss of Wilbur, didn't we just walk you home?"

But there was no response and Quackity was left with silence in the dark. Wait.

Quackity blinked, looking around his office and sure enough, the window didn't let any sun shine through, but rather the light that the moon was reflecting off of the sun.

Wow, so he must have gotten some good progress on work right?

Quackity nodded to himself, slowly pushing up out of his chair with a tired groan and a stretch as he fixed up his appearance to look more pissed than worn out as he walked to the door.

But upon opening it, there was nobody there. He was met with an empty hallway with a single flickering light that he told himself he would fix last month.

Odd.

Quackity swore somebody had knocked. More specifically, Wilbur had knocked. Quackity huffed in increasing annoyance and paranoia as he shuffled back to the window. Glancing out past the empty buildings and white sand, he could see a large blur of yellow-ish light pouring out from Wilbur's stupidly small house. Quackity squinted, ever skeptical of what he was seeing. But then a new opening of light grabbed Quackity's eyes, watching curiously as he realized it was Wilbur walking out of the house, not back inside.

Quackity cursed the darkness and the distance as he tried to guess what Wilbur was doing. Was it possible that this man had knocked on Quacktiy's door and ran quickly enough to his house and act like he was inside the whole time?

Possibly…

But as Quackity attempted to make out what he was seeing, he saw distant sparks of gold and orange in front of Wilbur's house and soon enough there was a fire- a campfire to be exact. Not one that spread out onto the trees and burned each twig and leaf. But a small, safe and simple fire made for the basic needs of warmth and food.

Again, odd.

Quackity then remembered that it would also be odd if Wilbur managed to run that quickly because of how he was when Quackity chased him. The man was about to collapse by the looks of it. Quackity hummed in thought, reluctantly coming to a singular conclusion that he wasn't amazingly excited about finding.

He imagined the knock on his door. Simple as that but now there's no Wilbur to blame.

Quackity shrugged, honestly, that was better. He'd rather have Wilbur out of his country as much as possible than continue to blame stuff on him. Plus, that would mean Wilbur wasn't causing as much trouble.

Quackity yawned as he leaned back to close the curtains properly, deciding that since he was hearing things and because it was nearly pitch black out, he would call it quits for the day.

So he cleaned up his desk a little bit, loosened up his shirt for comfort and walked out the door, turning off the lights and closing the door after him.

This was yet another basic process that Quackity went through a whole lot, shutting off all the lights in this building as he packed up for the day, closing any doors he saw open. The place echoed, the sound of each flick of the switch or turn of a handle or knob repeating numbingly in his ears before it was drowned out into mindless actions that soon had him standing outside of the casino.

He ignored the way the building looked at this time, engulfed by the shades of the night and absent of any life, void of a single light. That wasn't how Las Nevadas normally was, so he didn't give it any attention as he turned his back towards the building and made his way to the pent house, fancy white walls that he swore grew further apart each time he walked past them to his room, eyes flickering over to the bed as the ever present tiredness that weighed him down grew even more and he finally ended up giving in, unceremoniously crashing onto the sheets and drifting to sleep still suffocating in his work clothes.

Quackity woke up the next day with a fresh new supply of energy he used to convince himself to shower that morning, making him set of towards his office a little later than normal.

He tried to let that fact not get to him, tried to avoid draining himself with dissatisfaction. So he, for the first time, considered himself lucky when he got a glimpse of a certain tall figure sink into the shadows behind a shop because it served as a way out of his head and now something that wasn't himself to blame.

So, for once, Quackity smiled- although rather wickedly- as he strutted over, across the street, and right up to them with such confidence that he practically deflated once he got closer, Wilbur's name on the tip of his tongue that he bit when he realized it was not who he had guessed it was. Now, he was here, holding a warning hand out to some tall random guy with hair that was honestly too dark to be Wilbur, plus, there was a glaring absence of his white streak. No, this was just some random guy that was frozen under Quackity's gaze making him remember, oh yeah, he was the president.

Quackity blinked, stepping back from them with a polite and small smile. "My mistake," He said, ignoring the image of a smirking Wilbur that would one hundred-percent make fun of him for this. "I thought you were somebody else."

He didn't even wait for the other to speak before whirling around and walking out of there, and no, he was not embarrassed in the slightest. At least, that was what he told himself nearly four times until he busied his mind with the scenery of Las Nevadas until he reached the building he had set out for.

There, he prepared himself for yet another long, long day of reading papers and signing whenever there was a line for his name. Despite sleeping last night, Quackity yawned as he pushed open one of the doors, the low background buzz of workers filling the emptiness of his mind all the way to his office room, stumbling lazily with the key and eventually, he got the door open and sluggishly past through, the door clicking shut with a nudge of his shoe.

However, upon sitting down at his desk to see the stack of papers set there just for him, the lack of the white noise made it apparent that his mind was currently, unfortunately, and sadly blank. He reached for his pen, not even thinking about the action as he took it in his hand. He looked down at the first page, not even processing as his eyes focused on trying to read. He really was trying, he was trying to read the words rather than stare at them.

He just couldn't bring himself to, rather, his mind quickly took notice of the bottom drawer in his desk that wasn't fully closed. He opened it, not quite going over anything and simply pulling out a dark blue little notebook he hadn't seen in a while. And sure, he was supposed to be working right now, but flipping through the pages was all that really had his attention right now, even if it was full of nothing but random doodles he made whenever he was bored.

Against his normally disciplined nature that would always promote himself to be productive, Quackity brought the pen to the lines of the small notebook and let himself possibly, just maybe, relax as he started to draw whatever these lines and circles would soon form.

Did he like drawing? Well, yes, maybe. He typically didn't save time for it though, so it wasn't a surprise when he ended up scribbling over what he just drew as he declared it not good enough, he was a bit rusty.

But soon Quackity had forgotten about thw stack of papers on his desk as he doodled, compared it to his older ones, and continued. Someways through, he got up to get himself a cup of water- something he normally did after work.

Though, on his way back to the office, eyes focused on his plastic cup, he faintly registered the boots coming into his vision and then before he could look up he bumped into the culprit, Wilbur Soot.

He snapped his head up, watching as his water poured out of the cup onto the other, soaking up his ridiculous yellow sweater.

"Wilbur!" He practically scolded, holding his now empty cup with a tight grip as the taller man gasped, looking down at his chest. "What the fuck-"

Wilbur groaned, brows pinched. "Why'd you spill water on me?" He questioned accusingly, tone biting as he stepped back and he pulled the fabric away from his skin, stretching the sweater.

"You ran into me," Quackity said with a huff, matching the other's frustration. "And you shouldn't even be in here."

Wilbur didn't say anything, more so focused on himself as he grimaced, never just standing still like he was holding something that was on fire and he needed somewhere to put it down. Quackity frowned deeply, crossing his arms, "So what are you doing here?"

"Quackity I cannot believe you," Wilbur mumbled instead of answering, only looking up at Quackity for a second. "This is what kids would do."

Quackity held his breath, not letting his hands curl up into fists and only rolled his eyes. Technically, it was an accident but for some reason he couldn't admit to that. Plus, so what if Wilbur was mad at him? How many times had Quackity been mad at Wilbur? It was more than normal for the two of them to glare at each other, throw insults. Pouring water was a new thing, yes, but it wasn't on purpose and was, in Quackity's more than certain opinion, entirely Wilbur's fault.

So instead, Quackity scoffed at the way Wilbur squirmed, "Why the hell are you moving like that?"

Wilbur's face dropped with disinterest, early looking disappointed as he shot a harsh look, "Because this isn't exactly fucking comfortable, Quackity."

Quackity squinted, then, with a sigh, he tossed his cup into the nearest bin and still, Wilbur was there. "Well then I guess you should probably go home and change if it's bothering you so much."

Wilbur paused for a moment, eyes flickering as he gazed over the hallways and then, he made a low sound strangely close to a growl as he pushed past Quackity. "Fine, prick, I was coming here to have a civilized conversation with you," He grumbled sourly, "But I guess that will have to wait." He punctuated his sentence with a tight and fake smile, then, intentionally bumped Quackity's shoulder and walked away.

Quackity blinked, making sure to spin around and place his hands on his hips. "Don't even wait, I'm not going to let you in," He called, assuming Wilbur wouldn't listen to it anyway as he sighed quietly, and shuffled back to his office.

Mood ruined and mouth still dry with no motivation to change that fact, he slouched into his chair and forced any and all effort he had into finally reading the first page of many more and eventually, it was like second nature again. Read, flip, read, sign, flip, repeat.

But once again he must have lost track of time- well not actually of course, he just didn't care about time for a while until he was snapped back and was left to figure out how much time had passed. This time the interruption, exactly like before, was due to sudden knocking on his door, his brain not thinking anything through as he mildly called him in, tone dripping with the opposite of enthusiasm.

However, when the door opened Quackity fully awoke from the work process as he just barely saw Wilbur's trench coat. It was too late, though, and the only thing Quackity could do was shove his notebook off his desk as soon as he remembered it was there, slamming the drawer shut as Wilbur stalked in the doorway.

"I told you not to even bother coming back."

Quackity held back the urge to shift around as Wilbur eyed him, momentarily looking at the desk like he had just saw Quackity shove his notebook away and for some reason that he didn't know, Quackity found himself almost embarrassed. But not yet, he was a president and Wilbur was some dumb guy from the past that kept on pestering him in the present.

"You knew I wasn't going to abide by that, anyway," Wilbur said lazily, waving a hand around before tucking it back in his pocket and Quackity pressed his lips into a thin line, taking note of the new dark blue sweater Wilbur was wearing underneath his ridiculous and dumb coat.

Quackity grimaced, posture worsening as he sunk in his seat. "Just tell me what you're here to say so you can hurry up and leave."

"Oh. Okay then," Wilbur mumbled, flashing a small grin and then he was standing in the space between the door and Quackity's desk, brushing off his thighs with a short sigh. With his hands politely behind his back, he stood up straight and tall with a firm nod, "I want to be accepted."

Quackity spat out a confused laugh, face twisting, "You what?"

"Las Nevadas, I want-"

"Oh, I get it," Quackity said, eyes dimming with the realization as Wilbur's face dropped with annoyance, mouth shut as he shook his head slowly. "Wilbur we've already talked about this and frankly, I don't want to keep on repeating myself."

"See I knew you'd say that," Wilbur said with a dismissive point of his finger. "But hear me out now, Quackity," He started, turning to his side and glancing back at the seated man, "If you can manage to do that."

Quackity scowled, biting his tongue to prevent himself from proving Wilbur right and instead, he painfully ended up urging Wilbur to continue, the taller's eyes glinting with a smug smile.

"Good," He said dryly, tone flat until he switched up within a second as he faced Quackity, his fake friendly act back on as he spoke. "Look, I'm not asking to be a citizen," He assured, a bit of his curly hair falling over his forehead as he placed a hand across his chest. "Not at all."

"Wonderful, because I wouldn't let that happen."

"But," Wilbur picked back up instantly, holding up his pointer finger, then, after Quackity rolled his eyes, he clasped his hands together, one eyebrow quirked. "What about some sort of temporary access thing? We could work that out-"

Quackity groaned, pushing his chair away from the desk with a frustrated pinch of his brows. "No, no, Wilbur I-"

"Couldn't we?" Wilbur continued with his proposal, shrugging with his hands out as he questioned the other, taking one step over. "Come on, Big Q."

"Don't call me that," The shorter snapped, holding a hand out as if to wave Wilbur away like a fly, then, with a deep breath he tucked back into his desk and glared up at him. "Wilbur, do you remember what I told you when you first wanted to get into Las Nevadas?"

Wilbur hummed, looking at the wall above Quackity's head before meeting his gaze. "Remind me," He said and somehow, even that ticked off Quackity. This whole man's existence was a threat to this president's calm demeanor and he absolutely despised that fact.

So with a tight jaw and gritted teeth, Quackity tilted his chin up and planted firm hands at the edge of his desk. "I said you were unpredictable," He stated lowly, "And that I wouldn't have my nation subject to any of it."

"Ah yes," Wilbur said, head leaning back as he nodded with recognition with a snap of his fingers. "That." But of course Wilbur had a comment about it as he looked back at Quackity, the words hanging on the tip of his tongue and Quackity couldn't bring himself to stop him. "I remember, but honestly, I think those words are a little outdated, don't you?"

Quackity's lips parted, his expression showing nothing but disgust and resentment, still, Wilbur went on.

"You knew I was going to show up here anyway, right?" He asked and Quackity simply refused to respond in anyway as the string of his patience was tugged on. Still, Wilbur walked closer with a knowing look that he hated. "You know I occasionally stroll around Las Nevadas, you're very aware that I want to. In fact, Quackity, I think you expect it," He said, tone sharp yet strangely smooth as he leaned on the desk, eyes narrowing at Quackity with determination. "So how unpredictable am I really?"

Quackity set his hands in his lap, trying to maintain an indifferent expression and ignore the anger boiling up in him because by Prime did the man in front of him have some audacity. "It's a no, Soot."

Wilbur scoffed, the noise in the back of his throat. "Actually?"

"Actually," Quackity said firmly, eyebrows raised with a short nod as once again, his patience was being tested and he started to regret wasting all that time drawing because now he wasn't going to get much work done seeing as he was thinking about going home as soon as Wilbur left, probably because the man was so frustratingly exhausting. "Now get out."

Wilbur's eyes lingered, studying Quackity's face as the other mentally cursed himself for not spending his time wisely. Then, his eyes flickered and he looked somewhat confused, "What?"

Quackity blinked, snapping his head up. "What what?"

Wilbur nodded his head towards the desk. "You got something distracting you?"

Quackity stilled, of course Wilbur would be questioning some dumb shit like this. He was simply glaring at his notebook from where it sat in a drawer, totally reasonable and important things that were none of Wilbur's business. So he shook his head. "No."

"Liar."

"Trespasser," Quackity said in a grumpy mumble, ignoring the way Wilbur almost smiled at that. If Wilbur wanted to make fun of him, well, then he'd just be acting like a dumbass so yes, he ignored it and cleared his throat. "You may leave now.

Wilbur nodded but didn't move once. Instead he waited a moment, then another, and right as Quackity was about to snap at him again he stepped back with a wave. "Right then, see you later."

"Fuck no," Quackity said and it was rather optimistic for a guy like himself seeing as he would normally just frown whenever Wilbur said that because chances were Wilbur would sneak his way into Quackity's presence one way or another. Which bugged him, it infuriated him, and it drained him.

So yes, he did watch Wilbur walk all the way out of Las Nevadas through his office window before packing up and beelining for his penthouse.

He just had to make sure Wilbur actually left, of course.