Charlie Intermission II
Poor little Charles Reed Wickham had no clue how much time had gone by in Lucky’s office.
Every time he thought he’d made a decent dent in the paperwork, it felt like four pieces of paper had replaced the one he’d filed away in the time it took to turn around.
He’d put together plenty of banker boxes, marking each with a year as he’d come across them on a file.
He surmised it would be best to simply sort first and circle back to actually put them in chronological order later.
He did, however, happen to find the top of a beautifully crafted desk with a small radio in its drawer.
It took a while to find a station that played something other than screaming, but he’d found a jazz channel and it was enough to break up the silence.
Once he’d cleared the area around the desk and old leather office chair, his stomach growled and he realized he hadn’t eaten today.
Then he realized he hadn’t really eaten much at all since he’d come to Hell.
He must have really worked up an appetite!
He hoped Lucky wouldn’t be too mad at him if he went out to find something to snack on, so he summoned the elevator and waited for it to arrive.
The doors opened and the carriage was empty, so he flicked off the office lights and stepped inside to ride it back to the lobby.
It took much longer than he wanted to admit to figure out which button was the correct floor.
Having over six-hundred options was somewhat intimidating.
After some searching, he found one with GL on its surface that was below where he was, so he pressed it and hoped for the best.
When the doors opened again, he found the intimidating—but vaguely familiar—lobby.
It was fairly empty and hard to tell what time it was.
Hell’s skies always had a somewhat dusky-but-on-fire hue.
It was bright, yet weirdly dark at all hours.
It could have literally been the next day or only an hour since Lucky had left him and he’d have no idea, nor a realistic way of knowing.
A few business demons lingered in the Chai Charon off to the side and the large orc at the security desk was asleep, so he scurried out into the city streets to try and find something to eat.
He didn’t want to be too far away in case Lucky came back for him.
He hoped Lucky would come back for him. He wasn’t really paying attention to the path they’d taken, so he didn’t know how to get home.
He also didn’t have his keys—even though he was pretty sure his door could probably be easily pushed over with how many times his landlord kicked it down on a regular basis.
The buildings around him seemed to stretch on forever, and he started to fear he’d get lost. He’d hoped he could find a place to get a treat that wasn’t going to burn him, but anxiety started to roll over him.
Chai Charon was the most recognizable business, and the cheapest, and he knew they made iced drinks so he could actually enjoy them.
He didn’t have much money so a coffee was probably the most he could get.
His paychecks were always small since he’d been let go too quickly for the hours to total up to something worthwhile.
But as he approached a corner, he realized he didn’t have any money on him.
He wondered why he didn’t simply stop at the café in the lobby to keep himself from ending up in this situation, and cursed himself for being so foggy.
Ever since he’d come down to Hell he’d been in such a daze.
He stopped and looked around, wondering if he could ask someone if they’d seen the large, loud Prince of Hell lately.
It was at that moment that Charlie grew overwhelmed and scared.
He placed his hands together habitually, even though he knew it was hopeless to pray, and stared up into the fiery sky that was soon eclipsed by a large shadow.
He turned his eyes up, a yelp left his mouth as he came face to face with a towering orc.
“Well now, holy man, you look lost… and delicious,” the stranger boomed.
Tears in his eyes, Charlie sniffled and pressed his hands to his chest. “Lucky…”