"No Life 'Til Leather"

So What Pt. 1

 Chirp, chirp, chirp.

Te-te-te-te-te~!

That morning, Terra woke up with a smile just a little bit brighter than usual.

The pastured tufts of wooly clouds, a little less gray than expected. The singing of fowl, a little more melodic than the everyday routine. Flowerbeds all across the land (even in the barren wastes of Kazdel!), blooming with colors and exploding into bundling messes of limely-lively stalks topped with every single piece of a rainbow's hide. The people – the everyday folk from left and right – from Yan to Sargon, from Laterano to Kazdel (which isn't very far, but the countries vary vastly), from the aquaparks of Durin to the neon streets of Kazimierz – they were all waken that fateful morning with a mind just a marginal amount more inclined to face the day. Terra, in the broadest meaning of the word, was happy. The whole entire world, along with Mother Nature herself and Sister Midnight by her side, were happy. Happiness ruled the hour.

And the happiest of them all?

Beaming bright through the hallways of Babel's Rhodes Island, Mr Newmaker strode in glee with a steaming cup of coffee nestled in his hands. Well rested and bursting with vigor, his youthful form found itself hugged from all sides by the silky smooth fluff of a bathrobe – all veiled in a thick (albeit pleasant) smell of washing powder. Passing colleagues and coworkers alike, nurturing a lazy grin on his face, Anton welcomed each and every one of them with a fancifully theatrical bow, a butchered "Howdy, pard", perhaps a more common "G'day, mate" and an infectious amount of positivity, leaving null but the most hardened and closed-off hearts still brooding. Looking at the likes of Miss Ascalon here, who regarded him with a skeptical quirk of her brow before disappearing into a thick, purple mist.

Others, however?

Lively as ever.

"G'mornin', lads." Anton tipped his invisible hat to an idle Scout and his ever-so-inseparable buddy Ace.

"Morning, morning." One butted back with a wave.

The other followed with a giggle. "Someone's in a good mood. Saw the Doc tripping on his coat or somethin', eh?"

"Ya know it!" Anton played into the chuckling cacophony and fell over a suddenly sprung Closure. "Hey-o, mornin'! Mornin, lass!"

"A-Ah!" She ducked instinctively under his raised hand. "Head still hurts from the last flick! Spare me an open brain surgery, will you?"

"Ya got it!" Anton had no such intention anyway. Their hands met in a gentle high five and thwacked before separating - onto the next victim. "Aha! Oooh, broodin' type. Hiiii, rattle-snake! Like 'at one song, ah?"

"What song?" Mantra, seemingly busy guarding an empty corner, coiled at the sound of his voice. "Not sure. Not my place to ask."

"A good one!" He giggled, playing hopscotch with the empty spaces between her tail-cargo-pouches. "I-so-la-tion, tre-pi-da-tion, don't fear nothin', snake is bluffin', whips his tail – sends ya runnin'! Ha!"

"..."

She couldn't find it in herself to join in. Neither could she bring herself to tell him off, though. The way his hands gyroscoped the cup through his hops, the way his glee spilled everywhere all over the place – it had some charm to it.

"Hee-eey, lil' man!" Anton bounced off the walls and ceiling, trailing circles around a short, sweet, above all – surprised – Sarkaz boy. "Odda, was it? Ya 'ave a good one too today, y'hear?"

"W-What...?" He whipped his head around to look, but the cat's already vanished. A trail of coffee smoke and the spring of his tail – that's all that was left, disappearing behind the nearest closing door. A door leading to the Helm, the place where all the important decisions were taking place – so would Anton assume, anyway. Most of said "important decisions" talk would usually be conducted without the explicit knowledge of Mr Newmaker in fear of his "ay-mazing" ideas to "enhance" Babel's various operations in an attempt at "makin' 'em boring trawls a bit more fun."