Sinister shrugs onesidedly. “Well they can’t just hand out pencils indiscriminately.”
“Think of the chaos,” says Dexter. “There are people in those lines who’d kill you for a pencil.”
“If you weren’t already dead,” says Sinister. “But at least you completed your Replacement Pencil Requisition Form.”
“I certainly did not.”
Dexter is aghast. “You didn’t?”
Sickly’s jaw is clenched so tight he can barely speak. “I. Had. Nothing. To. Write. With.”
“Well,” says Sinister, “you should have asked for a pencil at the Pencil Window.”
“They don’t let me have one! They send me to the Replacement Pencil Requisition Desk!”
“That’s just for a replacement pencil for filling out your PIF,” says Dexter.
“Skilcraft Number Two Medium Soft Point,” adds Sinister. Dexter nods. “But the Replacement Pencil Requisition Form can be filled out with any old thing.”
Sickly looks as if he’s going to cry. Sinister clucks and shakes his head. “Poor little meat pie. All that time wasted.”
“If he’d only learned his way around the system.”
“Some people just can’t be bothered.”
“Guess they don’t think the rules apply to them.”
“Why make life any easier for some poor flunky who’s only doing his thankless job?”
“For want of a nail.”
“Or a pencil.”
“Sad really.”
“Yes, sad.”
Sickly’s dam breaks. “I did not go back in the line for a fucking pencil, you—you stupid freak! The broken one, I am sharpening it with my teeth.”
The demon draws himself erect. “My brother’s just as he was made, sir,” Sinister says.
“He was talking to you,” says Dexter.
“Nonsense.” Sinister narrows his eyes at Sickly. “I am curious, though.”
“I’ll say,” says Dexter.
“When your pencil broke that first time, I imagine it made a… stray mark?”
“A stray mark you certainly didn’t attempt to… erase?”
“Naturally I am obtaining another PIF. I am in this line now.” Sinister nods. “Adjustments and Closures.”
“Last line, by the way,” adds Dexter.
“Well why would I be in this line if I am not getting the forms taken care of properly?”
Sinister shrugs. “You could be cutting.”
“Oh this is—why would I do that? People who cut in line are torn apart by this, this mob. And no one will process me without the proper forms anyway.”
“Terrible isn’t it?” says Dexter. “You’d think people would learn their lesson.”
“All right, maybe you aren’t cutting,” says Sinister. “Maybe you’re just ignorant of proper procedures.”
Sickly looks insulted. “I am a master of proper procedures. In my earthly life I have earned a law degree and am employed at Workers’ Accident Insurance Institute of the Kingdom of Bohemia for fourteen years.”
Dexter slaps his own forehead. “Hear that? Meat pie here’s an insurance lawyer. I love this guy. I could kiss this guy.” He cranes forward to do just that but Sinister looks disgusted and puts his chin on his fist and watches his other head attempt to close the distance to Sickly.
“We don’t go anywhere till I say,” says Sinister.
“Just because you’re older.”
“Yeah but Mom always liked you best.”
The demon reaches up and from out of nowhere produces a clipboard with a thick sheaf of printed fanfold paper attached. “Name?”
Sickly gives his name. Niko is startled to recognize it.
The demon opens up the stack and the heads bob up and down and mutter as they read. Suddenly they both grin unpleasantly. “You thinking what I’m thinking?” says Sinister.
“Not if I’m thinking at all. But sure, why not.”
They turn to Sickly and Sinister says, “Well, France old buddy—”
“Franz,” says Sickly.
“Whatever,” says Dexter. “I’m afraid you aren’t on the Exemptions list.”
Before Franz can reply the demon leans forward. Sinister lowers his voice while Dexter glances around melodramatically with narrowed eyes. “But I’ll tell you what. Seeing as how we’re colleagues and all—”
Now Sinister looks around conspiratorially while Dexter picks up smoothly: “—and seeing as how it only took you since nineteen fiftytwo to make it to the last line in the bunch—”
“—I’m gonna make a command decision and take it upon my selves to pull you out of this line and put you up at the very front.”
“How’s that by you?” Both heads regard Franz enthusiastically.
Franz brightens. “Oh that—that would be capital.”
The demon looks at himselves. “Capital he says.”
“Oh wouldn’t it be evah so?” Dexter pretends to swoon while his left half slides the clasp on the chain holding it to the post and lifts the chain to let Franz out. From behind the pale thin man come astonished looks and multilingual curses. Dexter/ Sinister tut tuts the crowd and raises his pitchfork. “Now now,” says Sinister.
“Okay, Fritz,” says Dexter. “Let’s go.”
“Franz.”
“Whatever,” says Sinister.
Niko steps forward tentatively. “Uh, excuse me.”
The demon eyes him and does a quadruple take. Sinister scowls and Dexter glances at his brother. “Qu’est-ce que c’est, mon fil?”
“L’homme.” Sinister points at Niko. “C’est l’homme mortel.”
“Sacre merde. He must be the musician that Onyx got obliviated over.”
“Well she let him play Deutschland Uber Alles or something.”
“It’s never anything but trouble when one of them comes down here.”
“How many’s it been now?”
“Not counting spiritual visitations?”
“The ravings of celibate monks and the hallucinations of oppressed Catholics hardly signify, I should think.”
“Maybe forty.”
“That many?”
“We should sell tickets.”
“Sporty jacket though.”
“Nice shoes too.”
“What do you think is in the big violin case?”
“A big violin?”
“You know there’s a pool going on him?”
“Sure. I’ve got a fiver riding on him. Thousand to one but what the hell.”
“You bet for him? Where was I.”
“Hitting on some babe in line.”
“I never. I am a consummate professional.”
“Of course you are. I meant to say you were acting in your capacity as punishment liaison with one of the guests.”
“Just for that I’m putting five against him.”
“Your money, pal.”
““So what can you do for me?””
It’s a moment before Niko realizes the question has been directed at him. “I’d like to follow you.”
“He’d like to follow us.”
“Ooh, we’re attracting followers.”
“I always say there’s two kinds of people in this world.”
“Followers and leaders.”
“I know which one I am.”
“Follow us where?”
Again Niko lags. “To, um, the front of the line.”
The demon exchanges a look. “I suppose you’d like to be put right behind Frances here.”
“Franz.”
““Whatever.””
“No, I’m going to the Battlements, and I’d—”
“The Battlements. Tourist boy wants to go to the Battlements.”
“And him without a camera.”
“Why you want down there, organ bucket?”
“It’s a long story.”
“Old story too from what I hear.”
“Guess we shouldn’t ask him to play us a song.”