#grumpel

Hobbs laughed - a light, almost giddy sort of sound. “I am Hobbson, yes. But everyone around here calls me Hobbs,” He shut his notebook, and scooted his chair out so he could come around the desk. Jazz blinked and almost tripped over her own feet as she hurriedly walked back to make way for the Grumpel. She had never conversed with one before so she didn’t expect them to be so...welcoming.

He held out a hand in greeting. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. We’re very excited to have some fresh eyes in the department. Can I get you anything? Water? Tea? A few barrels of Malangorian coffee? It was outlawed back in 1632, you know. Very hard to get a hold of.” He winked.

Jazz’s smile became more genuine as she shook his hand, “Hobbs? Da’z a cool name dude. Da name’s Jazz but ya already knew dat. And uh...it’s just Jazz. Please.” She chuckled nervously but instead of letting go she squeezed his hand one more time and stared intriguingly with an excited smile, “Sorreh, I ain’ never shook hands with a Grumpels befo’. Y’all got strawberry milk?”

Hobb’s hand was cool to the touch - almost...squishy, really, though it leaves no residue on Jazz’s hand as they part. Her question only seemed to delight him more. “You know! We’ve never actually had a request for that before! But if that is your beverage of choice we would be happy to keep it on hand. You will learn there is very little that Requisitions can get a hold of.”

“T’anks dude, I ain’t much of a booz girl.” The curly-haired girl grinned as she laughed along with him.

He gestured to a small table in the corner of the room. It too was stacked with books, something he seemed to only just remember as the Grumpel looked at it. “Oh, pardon me. It’s always a bit of a mess around here. But do - come sit. Tell me a little bit about yourself.”

Jazz’s nerves rose again as Hobbs asked her to sit down. Having never been in a job interview...questioning...thing, in addition to this Grumpel knowing her real name, it was the first time she had felt unsettled in ages. “Before I do dat mister, mind if I ask you a question first?” Jazz sat down and rubbed her knees before asking bluntly, “How comes y’all know my real name?”

Hobbs tilted his head slightly, all six of his little antennae bending with the motion. He gave her what he hoped was a reassuring smile and easily sat down across from her. “Those who work for Fantastic Enterprises come from all walks of life, Jazz,” He explained. “Mr. Fantastic adopts a ‘clean slate’ policy to everyone who joins on - but that doesn’t mean we aren’t very thorough about our background checks.”

The little human patted a rhythm on her knees as she nodded, pursing her lips with a pop. “Ah. Soo I don’ gotta explain to y’all the shit-storm that is my family den.” Jazz chuckled weakly, rubbing the back of her neck while not looking anywhere near Hobbs.

Finally she sighed and clapped her hands together with a closed smile, “A’ight, no bullshittin’ or nothin’, I’mma be really real wid ya Hobberooo since I figure y’all are gonna find out about d’is sooner or later.” Without warning, she randomly lifted up the hem of her shirt to reveal a very nasty scar mark on the left side of her torso, the logo unmistakeable. “Ya know what dis shit is right.”

Hobb’s normally placid face melted with concern. “Oh - oh yes, I do,” his hand came up, almost as though to reach out and touch the mark - but he stopped himself. “I gather you did not leave with their blessing?”

“HAH. Nope.” Jazz snorted derisively. She pulled down her shirt with a dry smirk as she continued, “Ya know dat bigass slave breakout ‘round last year? Dat was Olka who was leadin’ it, and how me an’ da others escaped.” She was sure this probably wasn’t increasing her chances of getting hired, but continued regardless, “An’ I gotta tell ya Hobbs, dey ain’ stopping. I don’t know why but, da last fella sent by dem says dey want Jazz Olka an’ Moki all alive still. So...I was kinda hopin’ dat y’all be offerin’ protection from dat kinda thing?” Jazz glanced up hopefully.

The kind smile returned to Hobb’s features. “Miss J- Jazz. Just Jazz. You could be in no safer space. As I said before, we come from all paths here. Many still hide from their demons. I myself once found myself living in unfavorable company. But Mr. Fantastic was there to take me away from all that. I think you will find that he is more than willing to help you too.”

Jazz almost looked offended at such an idea, “Fo’ real?! Well da’z just rude, who’d wanna hurt a Hobbs?” She crossed her legs with a huff. She looked to the side and thoughtfully bit her lip; the job offer was awfully tempting. “Fo’ me and Olka? And all you guys want back is we work for you righ’?”

Hobbs chuckled. “It’s not so straight-forward an arrangement. Around here, we just ask that you be the best...well, you, that you can be.”

Jazz’s smile grew wider, “Really?! Da’z cool, Jazz can do that, I already feel like I’m da best!” She slapped both her knees and was about to get up only to sit back down again and stroke her chin as she mumbled, “Wait, is Olka gonna be chill wid dat...I think she’s da best but she gotta t’ink dat too hmmm…”

Another laugh bubbled from Hobb’s throat - wherever it was. “Some employees are more of a work in progress than others. Speaking of which - Jeremy!” his voice raised as he called upward.

“Yep!” A sharp voice called back from somewhere beyond the stairs. “What can I do for you, man?”

“Jeremy, don’t make me yell, come down here,” Hobbs requested.

It took several long seconds. Finally, the sound of a chair scooching harshly across the floor was heard, followed by footsteps. “Listen,” Jeremy started before he reached the end of the stairs, “I’m like, twenty minutes away from getting Holdon’s report out and - oh. Hello Jazz,” He greeted flatly as he saw the woman sitting at the table.

Jazz grinned brightly at the familiar face waving, “Yoo, didn’ know you was chillin’ ‘round here too Jeremy!” She quizzically raised a brow at Hobbs, “Wha’z Jeremy gotta do with progress-workin’ folk?”

Jeremy crossed his arms and leant nonchalantly against the door frame. “Oh right, yeah. Chillin’. That’s what I do around here. Just fuck about. Get trashed with Hobbs. Keep him company.” He explained in a casual manner.

Hobbs looked patiently at Jeremy, smiling that ever-placid smile. “What Jeremy means, is that he works here.” Hobbs explained. “Jeremy - I was wondering if you’d be willing to show Jazz around the department, seeing as you two already seem to be familiar.”

Jeremy rolled his eyes as he pushed himself off the door frame. “Yeah yeah, I can do that,” he sighed in a resigned sort of way.

No sooner did Jeremy lean away did Jazz look between the two and grinned, “A’ighty, mini-room explorin’ adventure, LE’Z GO!” She quite literally bounced off the chair and skipped to the other employee, “So where we headin’ first?”

Jeremy gave Hobbs a look that said he really didn’t appreciate having his super important ‘work’ be interrupted for a tour. But he stepped forward to lead the way. “We’ll start with intake, then head down to lock up. The place feels bigger than it is but you can still get lost, so.”

“It’s still very big!” Hobbs called back brightly, “You two have fun!”

“Ya got it chief!” Jazz saluted back at Hobbs while following obediently after Jeremy with a spring in her step, excited to see the new area and not shy about immediately asking questions, “So wha’z an intake? Is lock up like a prison? Are there scary baddies in da prison? If Jazz gets lost do I chill in the lock up or the intake?”

Jeremy kept walking, but he did toss a squinty-eyed stare over his shoulder at Jazz for a moment. “Do you even know what requisitions does?”

Jazz chirped cheerfully, “Nope!”

The leading guide sighed. Jeremy brought a hand up to rub down his face. “Right. Well. We track down and pick up things the company needs. Most of it’s boring shit. Other times you actually get to find something interesting.”

Jazz focused all her attention on Jeremy as he explained, letting out an ‘ooh!’ before grinning, “Interestin’ like what? Ya ever find anythin’ cool an’ mysterious? Wha’z da weirdest t’ing ya ever found, out an’ about?” Jazz poked her chin as she recollected, “I once found a skeech-caved statue wid ice on her tits.” She bit her tongue between her teeth cheekily as she snorted, “Called her Titsicles.”

Jeremy snorted but he really tried to hide the fact that he was smiling. “Yeah okay. That’s not bad,” He said in a scrutinizing, cocky sort of way. “Amature, but not bad. I mean I got to track down a kid in a cryo-pod once, but don’t worry. I’m sure you’ll get up to that level.”

Jeremy spent the rest of the tour pointing at doors, naming them and, as promised, going over the intake, lock up, office space and the forbidden room. Jazz was in fact so intrigued by the latter that she didn’t really notice Jeremy ditch.