Juby and Juno enter the suite to see stacks of paperwork taller than most people. Cheron and Oto drape over the loveseat, dangling upside down, scrawling on reports that smother the floor. Oto writes with a pen in each hand and one in his mouth.
"I'm still in the lead, Oto," Cheron says. "Why are you still doing that?"
"Ith juf guhd technique." He notices the lieutenants at the door. "Oh! Hey guyfth."
Cheron flips backward and sticks the landing, but is left so dizzy that she rolls the rest of the way to the door. "Come on in." Her baggy eye twitches.
Juby steps over her. Juno offers Cheron a hand, but quickly realizes that she's much more comfortable on the ground.
"Don't worry, Cherry." Oto also backflips, but his legs are too long and they bang on the coffee table. "I got cha." He too loves the ground.
Juno lowers onto the loveseat, consciously consuming as little space as possible. "Are you guys okay?"
"She's tired." Oto raises his head. "I'm Oto."
"Will you single-celled organisms just tell us what you want already?" Juby leans over the loveseat, using Juno's head as a headrest. "I feel damned eternally just looking at you two."
The reapers rise, straighten their ties, and tighten their ponytails. Cheron continues filling reports over the loveseat, right-side up this time.
"After a month of preparations, mostly ensuring that we don't meet any new guests during the press conference, if you know what I mean," Oto chuckles, "we're finally ready to speak to the universe's most influential politicians and intergalactic networks. We couldn't have, if not for you, Juby. Thank you."
Juby blushes. "Haha, shush."
"But now I finally need your help with, hopefully, a much simpler task." He leans to her. "Please, help me be a better public speaker. A lot of people seem to like you."
She fans her face. "Aw! Come on, shut up."
"And I can't even begin to fathom why."
"Shut up."
Oto grins and stands straight again. "So! Will you help me?"
"On second thought? Nah. You're a no-good, dirty corpse-wrangler."
Cheron whips around. "We wouldn't be doing any of this garbage if not for you, Juby, so for once in your petty, pompous, coprophagous existence, do something meaningful, maybe then, people would know you for you, and not all the people you pretend to be."
"Woah there, bite-sized biter." Oto picks up his partner and sets her on a paper tower. "We want her to give us a hand, not a fist."
Juby snickers. "Wow, Death. I didn't know you owned two dogs."
He swings the Scythe over Juby's neck like a guillotine. "I'm sorry. Sometimes I need this tool to hear. What did you say?"
"I said—"
"You know, I first met Juby when she took the form of a tall, dark politico. She looked kind of like you, Death." Juno smiles. "Back then, she couldn't get anyone to follow orders. I told her the only way people would like her is if she was herself. Basically, to just stop trying." He glances up. "I could go on."
Flushing, Juby shoves him to the side. "That's such utter nonsense." She leaps over the Scythe and the seat, to Oto's level. "The only way people will ever like you is if you are what they like. You can't ever stop trying. Period."
Oto smirks. "I'm listening."
She groans and shoves him into the bathroom, to the mirror. "Smile. Memorize how each muscle tenses and rises to your eyes, then let them fall, slowly. And bring them back up, as if you're weight-training your face."
Oto smiles, sort of. It's more of a wince.
"Oh, wow." Juby snorts, spins him, and shoves him back into the living room. He stumbles over a stack of papers high enough to be a makeshift podium. "Be confident but also a tad bit clumsy, as if you're cathecting more than you intend to. Act like you're sharing your whole life with these people. Of course, you're absolutely not, but appearing as though you're almost uncomfortable yet trudging through the talk anyway is… endearing, I suppose."
He nods, inhales, and very nearly gets a word in.
"Every time you're approached by someone new, survey the person completely. Compartmentalize what she wears, how she holds herself, stuff she says, etcetera. That way, you can formulate your face for that person specifically. Give her exactly what she wants." Juby grabs Oto's tie and pulls his face to hers. "So if, let's say, she's wearing something frumpy, acting snippy, and going on about how the service you provide is subpar, she's stressed from caring for kids she thought she wanted, wants a lover she thought she never needed, and needs a gently assertive but nevertheless rock-solid talking-to. Be dominant. Be acerbic. Go ahead and be a little hot." She releases him. "She'd like that."
He loosens his tie and swallows. The shadow beneath Cheron's bangs darkens.
Juby shrugs, plopping onto the loveseat. "Er, well, try to be." She glances to the side. "Or, if he's wearing something coordinating but banal, has grotesque posture, and a sludgy, apologetic attitude, he's totally in a state of constant 'want' but is too torpid to actually 'do,' and he's secretly—"
"Ooooooooooh-kay." Juno stands and turns to Oto. "I can see that you're learning." Juno shifts to Juby. "And that you're having fun." To Cheron, "You're still in dire need of a nap, but otherwise, everything's good. I'm gonna go." He exits the suite, trying and failing to not trample on papers.
Before Juno can shut the door behind him, Cheron stops it with her foot. "Hey. Thank you," she says. "I don't know exactly what you do, but it sure is effective."
With eyes like crescents, he smiles. "I try."