A click of his lighter as a cigarette was lit. Next to him, a puddle of ink ripples and stirs as if agitated by an invisible wind.

"I still don't know what to call you . . . Tch. Guess Ink will do until something better comes along."

He draws on the cigarette as the ink slithered up his pants leg, trailing up his body to turn into black gloves.

He snaps his gloves on, snuffing out his cigarette. Another day for work. "Hopefully, at least the storyboard is up."

He's looking at a work order. Three episodes worth of animation done at the end of the month. Today's the 25th. ". . . . Fuck."

He is still stuck at the studio with a bunch of other animators trying to FINISH UP A RIDICULOUS WORK ORDER.

"Mrm. Shit. Have to work over the night on this." He's mumbling to himself in an empty office, an inkwell sitting on his cluttered desk.

"Ugh . . . . Still not done . . ."

He sighs, finishing the last bits on his storyboard. "Ugh . . . Everything is loud and it took me longer than usual to finish this . . ."

". . . . . . . . I leave the office for a moment and I swear I heard someone contemplate murder in public. What is this city?"

"Halloween? Ah. Maybe the workload will . . ." An assistant walks in and whispers into his ear. ". . . . WHY ARE WE DOING THE SPECIALS?!"

"Ugh . . ." He lights a cigarette, a small cartoon imp sitting on his shoulder and swinging its legs.

He groans, resting his head on his desk. Another late night cleaning up mistakes.