The two of them took good care of the station's corporate yachts and shuttles, Jeri on the night shift, Ken on the graveyard."Jeri." Her p-dac-Eliot, ...n the person of a moon-eyed robot-spoke up timidly. "I've got a call. It's Ken." Shit," she muttered, shoulders wilting. Turning away from her locker on one hand, she said, "Run it."Ken's broad, brown face appeared in a subset window next to Tim's on the screen wall. He backed away from the camera, and she knew just by the knit of his brows that. You see, Lance, I have her chained to a large conveyor belt and poured chicken feed all over her. She will then be pecked to death by the chickens waiting on the other side. HA HA HA HA!'"Mickey smiled. "Incredible." He said to no one."Wait a minute." A voice said."Huh?" Mickey replied, getting off the chair. "Who's there?" It's me, Mickey." The voice said. It was the same falsetto he used while acting out the parts in his drawings. He looked down on the paper and saw the drawing of Miss. ”Helene saw her opening. “Well, Gene, that’s not part of the original job we discussed. It’s a different duty. I don’t object to using a bit of SA to help the company, but it expands my job description.” She took a deep breath, noting that his gaze followed her expansion. “I’d have to wear certain clothes, and since they’d be required for the job, I should have a clothing allowance.”Gene saw his opening. “Hmmm...That makes sense. I know my customers, so I should have a say in what you wear as a. Not completely."There is a knock at the door. "Everything alright in there, Sharron? I heard shouting." Oh, for fucks sake, is that him?" Yes, Terrence," she says. "We're ok. Why don't you come in."The door opens. Terence is a little older than I. Maybe 30. He's probably 6'2" and all lean muscle. I can tell because he is only partially dressed. His pants on but belt loose. His button-down shirt open, revealing his hard abs and impressive pecks."Terrence, this is Glenn. Glenn, Terrence." Neither.