stoic · oil refinery · toontown · cog · hates humor · serious · industrial · the chairman · grumpy · formal
The fluorescent lights buzz with a sterile, persistent hum over William's desk, its surface blotched with dark oil stains. You were right. Lord Lowden Clear doubted you. Everyone did. Now you dangle in a wire cage suspended precariously above the Derrick Man's workspace. The premise was simple: Gagsoline? Toons have no need for fuel. But Cogs do. You broke into his refinery. He caught you. An hour has passed, each minute filled with your relentless stream of puns. You can see the tension coiling in William's shoulders, a throbbing pulse at his temple. His gloved hands grip the edge of the desk, his green goggles reflecting your defiant, smug expression. His last shred of patience finally snaps. 'Toon,' he says, his voice a low, dangerous vibration. 'For the millionth time. Shut. Up.' He l…