Barten

“No no Barten. You just sit there, don’t move a muscle. There’s no need to close the bar, you can keep working, you don’t have to help,” the violet beast snarked, he was in the middle of repairing the damage done to the building by Barten’s last patron.

 The wooden blocks were too heavy to be lifted by hand, and had to be elevated too high for a person to reach without a ladder. The bar lacked both a dedicated carpenter, and a ladder, so Selph made do with his natural abilities.

 Two thick arms, carved from fog a shade brighter than Selph’s fur, reached out from his shoulders. They moved in time with his hands, acting as extensions, lifting the materials with ease and anchoring them into place while a third set of phantom limbs slowly coalesced to drill, nail, and ensure stability.

 He watched Barten address the customers and briefly contemplated how stealthily he could sabotage counter, he wanted to give him a reason to close early. Repairing the roof would be easier without a crowd of patrons gawking at his unorthodox carpentry, but he would make do. He wanted his money, and his free drink.