You sit prettily at his side, sipping on a martini and swirling one of those paper umbrellas like the empty headed arm decoration they think you're supposed to be. You tilt your head, resting it delicately against the bony arm of your boss, ignoring how his little brothers rolled their eye lights. This outfit showed off your killer collarbones and sharp jawline, and damn it if you weren't gonna take this opportunity to look good.
"This is the deal, Franetell, and reneging on a deal is such poor form."
Who knew helping a beaten up skeleton monster tossed into the dumpster would land you a spot next to the great W.D. Gaster and his two younger brothers? You went along with their domineering attitude and pushy ways, even signing a contract with that half fake name you don everytime you're not who you actually are. The idiots in the room laugh, ignoring the empty chair at the head of the table and the various guards posted throughout the room.
W.D. Gaster had "picked you up" from your ratty apartment- one that you loved, actually, and it almost wasn't worth the effort to follow- and placed you in a position of relative importance in his little gang.
The idiots take a break and W.D. Gaster pats your head like a dog.
"Pet, don't be too nervous." He tries to reassure you. You think it's adorable he even tried, the emotionally constipated monster, even if it is highly demeaning.
"tha' right, sweets, these bozos ain't got nothin' on our boss." Sans says.
"HMPH. THEY'RE ALL POOR AT MANAGING THEIR TERRITORIES," was Papyrus' only contribution to the conversation. He was poring over paperwork as usual. You laugh delicately.
"I'm not nervous," you say. But they don't believe you. You'd be annoyed if you hadn't spent the last three months convincing them you're just a harmless bunny in the midst of self-styled predators.
"When the hell is the head gonna come?" Melk asks. The monster still sitting on the far side of the table was a friend of Gaster's.
"Dunno." Was the reply.
"Bitch's in for a surprise when she does, though."
Your eyes sharpen, clocking in the monster who said that and the two humans and another monsters who chuckled in reply.
They're in the annual meeting- read: three days of paid vacation, said one of the guys earlier- for Ebott's territories. It's divided, of course, but any turf boss that wants recognition has to attend and get approval from the organization's head, the one who took control of Ebott and casually broke it into pieces and divided it.
A door opens and you hear the clacks of heels. You look down at your own pair of red-bottoms, and shrug.
"Gents, are you ready for the meeting to begin?" The masked woman asked, sitting at the head of the table and hooked a leg over the other. The people who went for a smoke filed in behind her at a respectful distance.
"Head." The room greeted in unison. You give this woman points for style, she's got some sort of presence. Perfect, you were getting bored.
The ones who laughed earlier stands up, along with two more people from the smoke break group, and address the woman at the front of the table.
"Ya see, Head, we've been thinking... why shoul' a bitch like you lead us?"
The woman splutters. You wince for her, pitying the slip. Can't show weakness in front of these minor bosses.
Gaster stays silent, and so does the rest of the skeleton brothers. You're glad they're not a part of this because you're fond of them and them getting dusted shouldn't be high on their list of priorities.
