minion gyatt.

Chapter 2- Oiling up

Jim wasted no time and rushed along to the studio. He wasn't particularly good at photography, and therefore it wasn't exactly his kind of environment. He felt almost like some kind of wild animal, lost, misplaced from its natural habitat. With a bit of searching, he finally came to his destination, and tried his very best to ignore the lingering warmth upon his face from the embarrassing, yet exhilarating interaction with Gru earlier.
"There goes my aura..." he sighs. But honestly, it was a loss worth the outcome- think about it. Gru- the one and only, the most nefarious, diabolical, despicable villain of them all, had basically just demanded him to oil up.
Gru wanted him oiled up.
"Well, I suppose I've no time to waste." he uttered through clenched teeth, his heartbeat pounding against his ribcage like a rabid dog desperate to escape its enclosure.
Reluctantly, he lifts his right hand to knock on the door of the studio, his black glove, a part of his mandatory minion uniform, sat snug, encasing each of his delicate fingers as the sound of three loud knocks filled the corridor, his head beginning to spin with a mixture of excitement and nerves.
"Come on in!" a voice from inside says.
Jim hesitates.
It wasn't Gru's voice -it was the lab's personal photographer. She was rumoured to be working together with some sort of evil group of people, who aspired to spread what they called, "despair" across the globe. Whatever that might've meant.
The door was flung open and a bright young girl of about highschool age stood before him. She beamed a smile that lit up the room as her strawberry-red bangs rested neatly upon her youthful eyes, doused with excitement.
"Great. A ginger." Jim thought.
"Hey! Are you here for a photoshoot or what?!" the girl asked arrogantly. Clearly, she wasn't pleased to see Jim.
The two of them had what one of the youngsters might've labelled as, "unsettled beef", from events Jim could only describe as 'past disagreements, which sit in the past, and should remain there, never to be spoken or heard of, not even once more'.
It's not like they'd actually interacted before, but you know what they say- rumours spread faster than despair disease.
"You must be.. Mahiru." Jim says, his tone trying as hard as he could to sound bored and unbothered as the words left his mouth, however that didn't prevent his voice from cracking slightly when he spoke them.
"Duh." she replied.

"I see- Well. I have certain... matters to attend to." Jim's voice wavered slightly as he rushed out to the back of the room, where he grabbed a can of oil with trembling fingers.
In a singular, swift movement, he flicked the tab of the can, creating an opening in the container, and held it upside down above his head, allowing the golden liquid to embrace him, flowing down his banana coloured skin elegantly.
As soon as he was done, he reached for another can, and then another, until he was left glistening.
Basking in the beautiful grease of the oil, he stood and waited for Gru, chewing on his now glossy lips out of nervousness.

There. All oiled up.