The slime sat in a wooden tub at the foot of Dree's desk, pushing a pale bulge through the lid every few seconds. It was the color of old dishwater, and something inside it clicked faintly whenever it moved.
Beside the tub lay a sheet labeled SANITATION EQUIPMENT HOURS. The hours had been crossed out, rewritten, and crossed out again. Someone had penciled a new heading across the top: CREATURE OVERTIME.
"Every time I fill this thing out, somebody changes what it wants to be called," Dree said. His thumb had stained the edge of the paper with slime residue that had dried on the way to the office. "I started with a work order. Now there's a grievance slip and two bills. One of them says Mallow owes the dungeon for recovery water."
Frank crouched beside the tub. "What's the problem?"
"They sent us to clear grease out of the lower kitchen drains, which is exactly the kind of work Mallow does. Then they assigned us to the old acid wash at the monster holding pens. When I told them Mallow can't handle that waste, they said I was refusing work."
A bubble rose through Mallow's translucent body and burst against the underside of the lid. Dree tapped the tub twice, the signal he used before moving the creature. Mallow drew its edges inward and waited. Frank knew the difference between obedience and a handler who had learned to give a coworker fair warning.
"And now they're trying to bill me for the hours it spent in recovery," he added. "Because a sanitation slime is equipment when you budget the work and a member of the crew when you want it to stay after shift."
Frank had come to Monster Operations to ask about the disposal rules for old floor treatments, not to settle another department's wages. But the list on Dree's desk included the same drain that took runoff from the north public corridor, and he could see why the distinction mattered to his own work.
"What happens if it eats the wrong stuff?" he asked.
"Depends on what it is. Grease and food sludge are fine. Soap residue in small amounts, if we've diluted it. Acid wash strips the skin and makes it split. Then you get two miserable slimes and a handler who's been told he lost a piece of equipment."
"Is that what put it in recovery?" Frank asked. "The acid wash?"
"It wasn't the first time someone thought one cleaning creature was as good as another," Dree said. "It took a week before the poor thing would hold together long enough to work. They call that maintenance downtime. I had it in a bucket beside my bed."
Mallow was about the size of a large bucket when resting. Its translucent body contained suspended pale flecks that shifted as it folded against the boards, and its edges pressed gently around the seams without leaking through. It was less a puddle than a creature patiently deciding the shape it wanted to occupy.
RB approached from behind Frank's boot, whiskers twitching. Mallow lifted a clear ridge toward him. The rat jumped back onto the cart and squeaked sharply, offended by the unexpected greeting.
RB'S THOUGHTS
(⊙_⊙) (ಠ_ಠ) (ง'̀-'́)ง
Frank put a finger alongside RB's injured hind leg to warn him away from the softening waxed canvas. The rat lifted his paw over the finger with considerable annoyance. Dree noticed and moved the tub farther from RB. "He's curious," Dree said.
"Always has been. Doesn't mean I have to let him put his nose in everything that could eat it." Frank moved his hand away from RB. The last quarrel over a dangerous find had lasted nearly a shift; he wasn't eager to start another.
"Don't worry," Dree told him. "It doesn't eat rats. Not unless somebody gets very confused about what belongs in the tub."
Frank eyed the loose lid. "How are you transporting it?"
"In this. Used to have a sealed tank with a drainage valve, but Logistics took it back after the last inspection. Said the capacity wasn't being used efficiently."
The tub was lined with a thin sheet of waxed canvas. Where the slime touched it, the wax had begun to soften, and a long seam along the side showed dark staining from previous leaks. Frank understood at once why Dree had stopped carrying the creature up public stairs.
Frank pressed the rim with two fingers. The lid lifted a fraction at the loose corner. "One jolt on the stairs and this lets go. You'd have half a slime on the floor before you reached the landing."
"I know. I've filed for another tank."
"Harl got any?"
"Two in storage. One's promised to the specimen room, and the other's missing a clamp. He can't release either unless the requisition says whether Mallow is equipment or livestock."
Frank sat on a spare stool and looked at the form. There was no place for a creature that was valuable because it worked and vulnerable because it was alive. The form offered three choices: consumable material, assigned tool, or wage-bearing staff. Dree had circled all three and crossed out the lot.
"What do you call it?" Frank asked.
"Mallow."
"Let's give Harl a work order for the tank itself," Frank said. "A broken clamp is a broken clamp whether it carries Mallow or somebody's soup. We can worry about which column the creature belongs in after it has a lid that closes."
Dree glanced at the rejected requisition and, for the first time that morning, looked almost interested. "Harl wouldn't release the tank to my department. He might let you repair it in Stores."
The Core chose that moment to appear in the inspection mirror above the desk. "Good morning, Creature Care! I hear there's a wonderful chance for interdepartmental teamwork."
Dree straightened as if somebody had prodded him with a broom. "Morning, sir. We need a safe container before the next sanitation assignment."
"Resourcefulness is one of our dungeon family's greatest strengths. Remember, every department has to make its equipment work harder."
"Mallow isn't equipment when it gets hurt," Dree replied.
The Core smiled wider. "Let's avoid unhelpful labels, shall we? We're all contributing to a shared mission."
Mallow pressed against the tub wall as the voices rose. Dree steadied the lid without looking down.
"The lower runoff has grease in it," Frank said. "If we get a safe tank, Mallow can clear that section. But I'm not putting it in the acid wash."
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"Our maintenance family knows best," the Core announced, then added that the work should be finished before the next inspection bell. His face vanished before anyone could ask who would pay for the tank.
Dree looked at the empty mirror. "I suppose that means we've got permission."
"It means he wants the work done. Permission's going to come from Harl."
They took the requisition and a cleaned sample jar to the quartermaster. Harl inspected the slime through the slightly ajar tub lid, then examined the fraying canvas lining. Fresh leather protected his injured tusk. He set the requisition down beside three ordinary bucket orders and sighed.
"The tank with the missing clamp is sound," he said. "I've been waiting for somebody to request a replacement fitting, but the order won't go through because the tank isn't assigned to a department."
"Can I requisition the clamp?" Frank asked.
Harl read his badge. "For a routine container repair, yes, provided you certify the installation and Dree signs for the animal."
"Creature," Dree corrected.
"Creature," Harl agreed without offense. "I'm not putting a slime on my shelf without a lid that stays closed."
The tank sat in a storage bay behind two crates of broken traps. It was made of glazed ceramic set in a steel frame, with a sealable top and a controlled drain at the bottom. One locking clamp had sheared at the hinge. Frank checked the remaining clamps, found them sound, and fitted a replacement from Harl's small-parts drawer. Dree inspected the interior for residues before Mallow came anywhere near it.
Harl hovered in the doorway while they tested the new clamp. He was less interested in the slime than in whether the lid could be opened one-handed if the carrier stumbled. Frank had fitted the part square, but the first close caught on an old nick in the hinge. He backed off the tension and tried again.
"I know the clamp is approved," Harl said. "I'm asking whether you can get it open when someone starts shouting at you. Those aren't always the same question."
Dree tried the latch himself, then made Frank adjust the release another fraction. Harl watched them go through the motion three times and finally signed the repair without a speech.
Dree refused to pour Mallow out like used wash water. The old tub had a cracked lip, and cleaning chemicals stored nearby could injure the creature. He levelled the new container beside it, bridged the rims with a rinsed board, and gave the familiar two taps. Mallow flowed across at its own pace. The lid went on only after its edges had withdrawn from the rim.
The slime crept over the ramp in one slow glossy movement. Halfway across, it stretched a lobe toward RB, then withdrew when the rat offered a warning squeak. Dree waited without pulling.
RB'S THOUGHTS
(ಠ_ಠ) (¬_¬) ┐(￣ヘ￣)┌
Mallow stopped moving. Dree went still beside the tank, his hand held open above the ramp but not touching the creature. A dark thread drifted through the slime's surface, and Frank had no idea whether that was distress or simply something it had eaten.
"Give it a minute," Dree said, more to himself than to Frank.
The slime settled, drew the dark thread back through its body and continued. Only then did Dree lower his hand. His sleeve was wet where he'd been leaning over the tub. Frank wondered how many hours of the old recovery Dree had spent watching for that movement to return. Once Mallow had folded itself into the larger tank, Dree checked that nothing remained trapped beneath the rim before locking the lid.
"There," he said, sounding more relieved than the completion of a simple container repair ought to require. "Now we can take it places without worrying it'll come out through the boards."
The lower runoff was reachable through a staff stair behind the kitchen. The area had been shut to public traffic after the fountain contamination, and the waste channel still carried a thick layer of grease from the banquet kitchens. Frank confirmed the inlet that needed clearing and opened the inspection covers from the dry side. Dree attached the tank's discharge hose to a shallow holding tray and let Mallow extend a narrow portion into the grease trap while the rest of its body remained in the safe container.
The slime went to work with an unhurried persistence Frank respected. Food grease softened and disappeared beneath its surface, but the heavier grit and fragments of crockery remained behind. Those had to be scraped out by hand after the channel was drained. Dree monitored the slime's color, withdrawing it when the water grew cloudy with unfamiliar chemical residue.
"That's soap, probably," Frank said, inspecting the slick film. "Could be from the upper wash line."
"Then we stop and dilute before we give it any more," Dree replied. "I don't guess when it starts changing color."
A kitchen worker came down the stair with a bucket of cleaner. "My supervisor wants this grate open by second bell," he said. He lifted the bucket just enough for Dree to read the cleaner label. "I was told it would cut the grease faster. If we can't use it, I need something to put in the shift report."
"Don't open that bucket in here," Dree said. "It'll damage Mallow. If your supervisor needs a reason, use my name and write that I'm holding the acid cleaner until this creature is off the circuit."
The worker hesitated. "And if they dock me for bringing it back unused?"
"Send them to me," Dree answered. His voice wasn't especially brave, but he stayed in front of the grate until the worker turned away. Frank marked the held cleaner on the job sheet so the decision wouldn't disappear when the next shift came in.
They finished the trap with scrapers, collection trays, and a rinse through the safe outlet. Mallow settled to the bottom of the tank as the job ended, its color returning to a steady pale gray. Dree kept the creature in clean holding water while they restored the covers. The inspection was slow and unglamorous, but the lower channel ran freely for the first time since the banquet incident.
Frank received fifteen XP for removing the grease-trap hazard and arranging containment Mallow could work in safely. Dree signed the creature's actual hours, not the equipment-use estimate Payroll had supplied. When the tally reached one hundred available XP, Frank was more pleased that Dree had obtained a proper container without sacrificing part of the slime to a cheaper cleaning mixture.
At the end of the day Dree sat beside the tank, looking down through the glazed inspection window. Mallow pressed a rounded shape against the glass and left it there while he adjusted the flow of clean water.
"It looks happier," Frank said.
"Hard to tell. But it's holding its shape, and it's not trying to climb out. That's usually a good sign."
RB emerged from the cart and approached the tank with caution. The slime made a small ripple that followed his movement. They regarded each other through the glass for several seconds, two creatures the dungeon had found ways to put to work without ever quite deciding what they were owed.
RB gave a soft squeak.
RB'S THOUGHTS
(¬_¬) ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ (￣ω￣)
"He says you should keep the tank," Frank told Dree.
"Does he?"
"Something along those lines."
Dree scratched his head, then smiled for the first time since breakfast. "Tell him I intend to."
Frank passed the empty transport tub on his way out. Mallow's old waxed lining had sagged into its corners, and a line of pale residue marked where the creature had once pressed against the boards. He set it upside down in the wash area so nobody would mistake it for a usable container. When he came back with a label, Dree had already written UNSAFE in large letters on the side.