Chapter 2: You Guys Are…?
Charles sighed, resigned. He grabbed the damp rag and started scrubbing the stone wall.
Cold water dripped down his fingers, and the rough scrape of the cloth against the surface left his hands red and raw.
"For the love of all the gods, Rian! What's wrong with you today? Did you forget how to clean?" the man said, crossing his arms. "Look at that! You're leaving more grime than you're wiping off. Keep this up, and we'll be stuck here 'til the sun comes up."
Charles frowned but didn't reply. He had no idea how to defend himself.
In real life, the closest he'd ever come to cleaning was wiping down his keyboard with a tissue, so scrubbing dirty walls with a soggy rag was definitely not his forte.
Charles kept moving his hand, at least trying to look like he knew what he was doing, but the man wouldn't let up.
"No, no, no! Not like that! You've got to press harder, you useless lump. What's this? Tired of being a slacker and now you're useless too?"
The man stomped over and snatched the rag from Charles's hands to demonstrate.
"Look, this is how it's done. Scrub like a man, not like you're petting a daisy!"
Charles pressed his lips together, fighting the urge to fire back with something snarky.
But before he could give it another go, a shout echoed from the elevated platform.