tikific | Smoke break

Title: Smoke break
Author: tikistitch
Rating: PG-13
Summary: What it says on the tin
Warnings: Swearing
Notes: Is someone having a bad morning?

They were huddled under a little gazebo in the back gardens at Mordhaus, sucking on cigarettes, and trying to avoid the worst of the pelting, icy rain. The gazebo didn't offer much protection, as the chill winds were whipping up a fairly consistent wave of horizontal rain. Ofdensen, who had ducked down for a quick, desperately needed smoke after a band meeting, had stupidly neglected to grab a coat on the way. So not only were his slacks soaked through up to the knees from the run to the shelter; his suit coat was rapidly becoming infused with the unrelenting rain water.

He noticed that the Klokateer huddled beside him was wearing only his sleeveless uniform T-shirt. Bastard must be freezing his fucking ass off, Ofdensen thought. Although, to be brutally honest, a lot of those Klokateer guys lacked the sense god gave ‘em.

"So, why do you do this?" the Klok asked him.

"What?" Ofdensen asked, a bit startled to be addressed in such an informal manner by one of his servants. The collegiality of smoking, he thought.

"This?" The guy waved his soggy cigarette. "Why do you come out here? I mean, you could just declare your office a smoking zone."

"That's reasonable," Ofdensen agreed. "I just don't think it looks good for the, ah, big boss to flout his own rules." He was quite certain to say flout instead of flaunt. He hated it when people mixed up those words.

"But we all know the band smokes inside. And worse," the Klok persisted.

"Yeah. You're gonna tell Pickles he can't, ah, smoke inside the castle he constructed with his own fucking millions? Good luck with that."

The Klok chuckled amiably. Ofdensen reminded himself to check on the guy's number when he got back inside. He seemed a little more with it than the usual recruits, if a bit insubordinate.

"Besides," Ofdensen continued, “I really oughta cut down."

"Aw, there's a lot of things that might kill ya," reasoned the Klok. "Hey, does it seem to be clearing up?"

Ofdensen waved a numb hand vaguely towards the side of the gazebo. "I dunno. I don't think so."

Then Klok took two steps to the side of the gazebo, and then one more step outside, arm extended, looking upwards, face to the sky.

He froze in his tracks.

The falling grand piano landed more or less directly on his head, killing him instantly.

"Yup," said Ofdensen, tossing away his cigarette butt, and being careful to step around the remains of the squashed Klokateer. "Smoking will kill you."