"Mel, I've been looking for you since morning! Where are you?"
Peace was for him a distant dream, an unattainable goal. It had been cleaned, and it had found the most enjoyable way to dry, but a familiar voice was approaching it. It wasn't just him, but ten other footsteps could be heard with him, and Mel knew he couldn't take any more pleasure.
"Moses, why are you shouting?"
When Mel stood up, water was still dripping from his face, but his skin was dry, and his clothes would dry in half an hour at most. Moses wasn't going to allow it, and after eyeing him thoroughly, he continued speaking in his distinctive high-pitched but violent tone.
"One of our guys did something wrong this morning. Sorry, we'll take care of that matter!"
After Moses' words, who barely fit into his red fighter suits, Mel's demeanor changed, the air around him grew heavy, and his gaze began to feel like midday ice.
"How will you take care of it?"
