He looked at the slightly crumpled piece of paper that had been shoved unceremoniously under his door, its scrawling, child-like handwriting accusing him of being in dereliction of duty and demanding that he report to -- somewhere. He wasn't sure what the lounge at the third junction was, but it sounded like it would at least be easy to find.

He looked up at the door, expression doubtful. From the noises he'd heard outside it, he was fairly certain it wasn't a pleasant place -- but then, he had his orders. A mission, just like any other. And one that probably wouldn't be life-threatening.

Right. He put his helmet on anyway.

He squared his shoulders and stepped into the hallway, which, somewhat contrary to all the noise he usually heard, was empty. He started walking.

He had already passed what he presumed were the first and second junctions before he heard voices, the surge of relief that filled him something of a surprise. Perhaps the silence had been more eerie than he thought.

The words he heard were slightly less comforting.

"Kick me again, and I will bite your leg off, Lana, see if I don't."

"Whatever. You get off your stupid butt and do your share of the chores! Everybody does chores -- everybody contributes!"

"You know, Lana, I have been wondering this for a while, but who the hell died and made you god around here?"

"It's not like anybody else is taking charge," was the sniffy response.

He turned the corner and stopped short. On the floor in the center of the area -- the third junction lounge, he presumed -- a large, black wolf was lying on its back with its feet in the air, grinning lazily at a young blonde girl -- who on further inspection had pointed ears.

"I think we'd survive if nobody did," the wolf said -- yes, it was clearly the wolf speaking, he saw that now. "And just how am I gonna play broom jockey if I ain't got any hands?"

"Use your tail," the blonde girl snapped. "Besides, you have a partner."

"Oh, sure, the same guy who never sets foot outside his --" The wolf broke off, twisting her head around to look at their visitor with interest. "Well, speak of the devil himself."

He took a step back.

"Oh, good," Lana muttered. "It's about time you showed up." She turned, planting her fists on her hips, and glaring up at him. "I know you're pretty new around here, but that doesn't exempt you from chores."

"You know," the wolf said suddenly. "I wonder how your mom's doing these days. And I wonder what she'd think about you lording over us like this -- without giving her a cut."

Lana froze at once, face going several notches paler than it already was. She whirled on the wolf. "J-just you do your part!" she snapped, and stomped hurriedly from the room.

It was another moment before the wolf rolled lazily to her feet, lifting her tail in a wag of greeting. "So, John, right? Nice to meetcha." She cocked her head and peered at him, a wide grin taking over her muzzle. "Now ain't that just the cutest -- armor and everything."

"What was I called here for?" he asked, forsaking good manners in favor of expedience. He wasn't sure how polite he was expected to be to a talking dog, having never encountered one before.

"Well, you heard her -- everybody contributes! You're here to push a broom, big guy." She turned away, ambling over to what appeared to be a utility closet. She nosed her way into it, shoving it the rest of the way open with her shoulder, and emerging after a clumsy shuffle with exactly the broom in question.

He watched her trot back over. "Y'on't need 'at," she said, indicating his helmet and armor with a flip of her muzzle. "'Ell, don' 'e shy."

He took the broom from her and looked at it for a moment. "And exactly what am I supposed to sweep?"

"The floor, Johnny," she said, grin broadening. "The floor."

"How much of the floor?" he asked flatly.

It was clear she was having difficulty containing her glee. "I dunno. Start sweepin' and see how far you get."

"I --"

"Anyway, I got places to be -- she'll probably be back around to tell you what you're doing wrong later."

"Wait, this isn't --"

She was already walking away from him, however, giving her tail a flippant wave of farewell. "Have a good time, Johnny," she chirped.

He looked at the broom again, then set it silently to the floor and grimly began to sweep, deciding that if he received any further orders, they would be summarily ignored.