Some Invitations Came In…

Tyalangan

The Host enters her office, ready for another day of voyeuristic observation of her wards. She nods towards Stanley and the show-runner as she heads to her desk. The stapler looks a little shaken; she supposes that he has just experienced Daphne at her most excited. That can scare even the stoutest of men. The show-runner is waggling out a mating dance as it works on transcripts. Tyalangan hopes those two can figure out what Stanley wants.

Settling into her desk chair, the Host scans for her wards. Craig and Tegan are both stalking the amenities floor, the former for his “payment” to those ratfinks, the latter for Tina’s shop to be disappointed by. Winter heads up to the Winter Room, loose plans already forming for tonight’s date. The others are still downstairs, working together on how to tackle their individual challenges. It warms the sea elf’s heart to see those kids start to cohere to each other; they may save their world yet.

Initial check-in done, it is now time for network paperwork, at least until a fire starts somewhere. Of course, Stanley left some things on her desk that will serve as a pleasant distraction. Some mail from the HH.

The first letters are screaming Arabella, one much thicker (to her) than the other (which is addressed to Mona). Tyalangan opens her letter. It’s an invitation, which is quite well written and well received:

Ah, formal invitations to Andy’s wedding. How very classy of Arabella. Then, she flips through the accompanying paperwork. She knows me well, huh?

“Arabella, I will send a formal RSVP back in a bit, but I will comply with your demands. Andy deserves it.”

Double checking that the other Arabella letter is an invitation for Mona, the Host plans to handle it for the Mistress. She was panicking about weddings, so I should give Arabella a response in Mona’s stead.

The final piece of mail is much… grungier looking. Like someone forgot about the envelope and threw it in the wash. Still, the letter inside is legible:

“Yo, Sam. I’ll be there. No need to mandate it. Sounds like a blast.”

Sam is totally going to act like my usual clothes aren’t comfortable enough, though I can do and have done that list of activities in them before. I am going to need an appropriately teasing backup outfit, huh? Well, that can be arranged.

Movement catches the corner of her eye. Is Bonnie throwing cans of fake nacho cheese at Craig? Sure enough, Craig texts her with a complaint. Always something with that asshole.

“Stanley, forward my calls. I need to step out for a bit.”

“Will d-d-do, ma’am,” the stapler stammers.

And, with that, Tyalangan teleports away.