25: Deadline Met

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Sven awoke on a soft, memory foam bed.

It had dull orange sheets and cinnamon-colored blankets, with matching pillows.

"This isn't my room..." he mumbled. 

He yawned and stretched, looking around. 

He froze.

On the door there was a hook.

And on the hook...

There was a black top hat.

And dull orange headphones stuck through it.

This is... BURT'S ROOM?!

Sven started to panic, his heart rate increasing by the second, his face intensely flushing a deep red.

I slept...

In his...

BED?!

He...

Took me...

To his BED?!

I FELL ASLEEP ON HIS LAP?!

Sven groaned, slapping both hands over his face.

"Welcome to my room," somebody said in a monotone voice. "Hope you enjoyed your stay."

Sven snapped his head over to the person.

Strangely enough, it was Burt.

He had an off-white mug, full to the brim, of steaming coffee.

Nothing too special about it, just an off-white mug.

"B-Burt-" Sven stammered. "Jag-Jag är så ledsen- I'M SO SORRY- JAG-"

"Sven, it's not your fault." Burt sipped the coffee. "I brought you here, so..."

"N-Nej- No! Ab-About falling a-a-asleep medan- WHILE- You read-"

"Honestly? You falling asleep while I read was a compliment more than anything. It means I was relaxing to listen to."

"D-Du- YOU- Are-" Sven shook his head rapidly.

What is wrong with me?! This is a normal conversation and I'm ruining it by speaking Swedish!

Burt sat down on the bed next to him.

A little squeak bubbled in Sven's throat, going even redder than he was before.

"Wh-Why are you not galen?- MAD!"

"Because you needed sleep. So I brought you here," Burt told him. "You're sleep-deprived to an extent."

"I run on coffee."

"That's unhealthy."

"I don't care if it's unhealthy. My health is the health of the Toppat clan, so as long as I take care of the Toppat clan, I'm taking care of myself."

"That's not how it works, Sven."

"My health doesn't matter anyhow," Sven continued, ignoring Burt as best as he could. "If you're the leader of the Toppat clan, it's your job to take care of them."

"And you are one," Burt insisted.

"I am the leader. Like I said, my health is the health of the clan."

"Then the clan is sleep-deprived, workaholic, attention-starved and desperate."

"Rude."

"True."

"Eh."

"It's not 'eh', Sven. It's a serious issue."

"Tch."

Sven played with the blanket, refusing to meet Burt's gaze.

"What do I have to do to get you to see it?" the head of communications growled, grabbing Sven's tie and pulling it until their hues locked.

"S-See what?" Sven stammered, acknowledging the lack of space difference between their faces and lips in particular.

"See that I care. I care as much as Carol does and I haven't been your friend for years."

Sven desperately tried to change the subject.

"What day is it?"

Burt narrowed his eyes but answered anyways.

"Friday."

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