Archie did not like Grant, and he did not like beer, and he did not like the tiny stool he had to teeter on like a hunched Gargoyle. Archie had made the mistake once of saying something Odd in front of Grant, so Grant had naturally adopted him. 

SLAP. The feeling of Grant's hand reverberated through Archie's spine in the agreed upon ritual known as 'camaraderie'. Archie was not entirely convinced this was a good thing. He peered down miserably at the Cheshire cat smile that materialised before him. He wasn't going home anytime soon, was he.

"I bet you anything you're a Howl,' said those sparkly teeth. "I bet you this beer you're a Howl! 'ere, I grabbed this flier off the wall wot for you to look see. Make good money as a Howl, if you work for it. They won't push you to do double shifts anymore 'cuz Howls are all the rage with the top brass at the warehouse so they get these accomodations to do the good work, ya see.." Archie was frowning down at the flier. He'd gotten his big, grubby fingerprints all smudged over it, because of course he had. Archie tried to smooth the dogeared corners while Grant spoke in the mystical Grant tongue.

"So here's what we do, yeah? You go to this here gig, and I'll be like your manager yeah? So when you're a big wig Howl it'll all be cuz I scouted you from the stacks of packing boxes. What were you doing in there, anyway? How'd you get right in the corner with all them towers of 'em around you?" Archie got the feeling Grant liked Howls. Archie also got the sinking feeling he couldn't get out of this. He'd never had much practice at saying No, because people didn't talk to him often.

[hr]
"No." Came the whisper of a murmur of a a soft, hoarse voice. See, if he'd said that sooner, this whole mess could of been avoided. He needed the practice. "No," his tongue clinked unnaturally against the back of his teeth and the syllables sounded alien from him. Further work needed, he decided, peeking his head around the corner of the 'maintenance only' tunnel he'd ducked into.

See, it wasn't so much he was late. It was that he was unsanctimoniously early by a horrifically embarrassing degree. So when he'd heard someone complaining up a storm coming down the stairs, he'd panicked and ducked round the corner. The thing is, he had had plenty of time to rectify the mistake. Little old ladies were not known for their speed. It wouldn't have been a problem if he'd just... Got ahold of himself and said hello. But after a certain point in time, it definitely starts to become a Problem. By the time Sasha and Antonita arrived, it had become a Big Problem. If he popped out now, would they have thought he was leering at them? He couldn't lie about being a maintenance worker, what if a real maintenance worker came by and got upset? Eegads, someone could come at any minute, and that'd be [b]worse[/b]. If he was [i]found,[/i] there's no way anyone would believe he was here for the job..

He briefly thought about waiting it out and heading home, but Grant had already talked up a storm at work so he could go... 

He screwed his eyes shut and licked his dry lips. Plan B: rush onto the train once everyone had arrived. Archie had never been late for anything in his life, but floundering punctuality was less of a mortal sin then being unforgivably out of place, right? 

At some point, in the excruciating stretch of time of accidental lurking, Archie heard the screech of the train tremble into the station. Blissfully unaware of any Rue, he let out the breath he'd been holding and swivelled out the archway. Now was his chance!

...Except, it seemed he had mistimed it slightly. The gaggle of Howls hadn't [i]quite[/i] got on the train yet. Archie stopped in his tracks like a deer in headlights. His mind blanked, and a very unhelpful thought decided to chip in - [i]Is that was Howls look like? They all seem so... human? Where are the superhero muscles? Eye lasers? Superior cooking abilities?[/i]

Well, there was still hope for that last one.

"Hum, oh." His faculties decided to rev into action at that moment. He patted down his pockets as if one of them contained his name. Unfortunately, all he found was a [i]slightly[/i] beer stained flier. 

"The Job." He stated, shoving his hand out awkwardly only for the ..contraption... To gobble it down.