Pandemonium | Dream SMP

24. I politely decline.

"It's no wonder lover boy put up such a fight. This is where he's been running the country from?" Schlatt slides a hand lovingly along the surface of his new desk, only to turn suddenly, facing me, holding his arms out to his sides in a grand gesture. "Well? What do you think?"

I look about the office, pretending to observe it as if for the first time.

I purse my lips.

"It could do with a few more plants."

"God. You and your fuckin' plants." Schlatt smirks. "You hear that Mr Vice President? The lady wants some plants. And what she wants, she gets."

Quackity looks over his shoulder from where he's stood, sweeping items off shelves and into a cardboard box in his arms. "Yessir, I'll add it to the list. Just as soon as I get this old junk out of your way."

"Good. Good."

Giving the desk one last caress he finally turns his attention to the large leather chair behind it. The leather chair he's been dreaming about non-stop for the last few days.

"It's fucking perfect." He murmurs, running a hand down its leathery surface before taking a seat with a content groan. It doesn't so much as squeak, even when he wriggles around to get comfy.

"You're enjoying that chair a little too much," I muse, trying to keep my attention on Schlatt but failing miserably. I keep glancing over to Quackity and George, watching them from the corner of my eye as they remove Wilbur's belongings from the room. It should be Wilbur collecting his things, not them. But how was he to know he'd get banished from the country? He probably thought he'd have time to pack up himself if he lost. I hope they aren't just going to throw it all out.

"It's a good fucking chair." Schlatt remarks. "But hey, so, I've been thinkin'-"

"That's dangerous." I cut in, unable to help myself.

The two males on the other side of the room snicker at my quip.

"Harhar. Fuck all of you. But seriously, you're an important part of this country now, Ares. And as such you deserve a title."

Now, this grabs my attention. "What sort of title? Do you mean as a member of your cabinet?"

The horned man leans forward and steeples his fingers beneath his chin, fixing me with a very serious look. I feel Quackity and George also watching, curious as to what he'll decide.

"You should be...the first lady-"

"I politely decline."

"Shit!" He slaps the desk and drops back against the chair, "you love making me miserable, don't you?" He says, a childish frown on his features.

"You're the one asking questions I'm obviously going to say no to," I muse, moving over to inspect a bookshelf, my trident balanced across my shoulders.

"Can't blame a guy for trying." He grumbles.

"What about Secretary of Defence?"

Unexpectedly, the suggestion comes from George, stood with his arms out as Quackity stacks books against his chest.

Schlatt clicks his fingers, "that's not a half-bad idea. Ares, you wanna be head of defence?"

"What does the job entail?" I ask, my interest genuinely piqued. That sounds like a job I can do.

"Pretty much what you've already been doing. It'll be your job to keep this country safe from opposing threats. Enforcing the law. That sort of stuff."

"But...what about you?"

The man blinks, "what about me?"

"If I'm defending the country, then who'll protect you? I can't be everywhere at once."

Schlatt laughs, "I don't think you realise our situation, hot stuff. I'm the fucking President of a country. Every citizen who rules under me is my meat shield. I'm practically untouchable!" He jabs a thumb over at Quackity, "plus I have that fat ass watching my back. Trust me, I have all the protection I need."

"Well...If you're sure."

"Positive. And besides, weren't you wanting more free time to spend with your new besties?"

A knock at the large doors cuts off any further conversation.

Schlatt smirks and gestures to Quackity, "would you mind getting that, Mr Vice President?"

Quackity grins and drops the last few books into George's arms, almost knocking him off balance in his haste.

"It would be my pleasure, Mr President."

I roll my eyes good-naturedly. Boys and their titles. This must be like one big game of make-believe to them.

Walking briskly to the doors, the beanie-wearing boy opens one and peers through. He immediately gives a short laugh, and opens the door all the way to reveal the source of his amusement.

Tubbo, sopping wet and miserable, stands shivering in the hallway. His hair sits plastered against his head, droplets of rain still sliding down his face. His black tricorn hat sits crumpled in his shaking hands, twisting it between his fingers.

"M-Mr President." He greets through chattering teeth.

"Ayy, there he is! My right-hand man! Finished with taking out the trash, I take it?" He motions Tubbo to enter the office and the boy does so, his movements stiff from the cold.

"A-about that." Tubbo twists the hat tighter in his grasp as he stops a few steps before the desk. "I couldn't find them..."

Schlatt's eyes narrow and a tremor rattles up Tubbo's spine. He quickly drops his gaze to his boots.

"Couldn't find them, or didn't want to?" Quackity says, looming over Tubbo's shoulder with his hands folded behind his back.

"Couldn't...I couldn't. The rain..."

Tubbo's voice dies under the scrutinous stares of his peers and he gives up trying to explain himself.

Schlatt sighs heavily and pinches the space between his eyes. "Never send a boy to do a man's job." He mutters to himself, and Tubbo shrinks further in on himself. "Ares."

I perk up, "Yes, sir?"

"It's a little early, but how about you go exercise your new power as Secretary of Defence, and go hunt down the unwelcome vermin hiding within my walls?"

I glance to Tubbo, who sends me a terrified look, before turning back and nodding to Schlatt.

"As you wish, sir."