HONCHO | The Estate

Long ago, you had found a sealed envelope while wandering around The Archives, deciding to take a look. It seemed like someone had deliberately left it there for you, since your name was written on cursive at the top of the letter. An invitation to an Estate. Another one of Glitch's distractions, you'd already noticed by now.

The paper vanished and burst into glitching colors blending into each other, which then died down into nothing but thin air, a few seconds after you read it.

Back again, you passed out somewhere in the archives, away from where The Drones could see you. It's not like Honcho left his office, or like Scribbles and Bash were smart enough to check side rooms. Before sector K, so, no Alma neither.

Just moments after falling asleep, the colorful static slowly uncrowded your vision, giving a better view of behind it. A large garden with a black gate, a fountain, and some Caws drinking its water.

After knocking and a long talk with Sir Abraham Creakstopher The II, or just Abe for short, you got the chance to take a step on the crimson carpet.

The other guests were already here; Bob, El Goblino, Groundskeeper, although a little different, Sally, Grampy, and Cringle. Cobbler was the chef, making pancakes in the kitchen, stirring the batter.

You had seen The Butler while exploring; weirdly familiar, but didn't really pay attention to it. It was constantly staring at you, though, like tempted to ask you something, which, eventually, they had the courage to, walking towards you while you wandered around the lobby.

The opera music muffled their words a little, but you caught most of it.

"Strictly speaking, guest, protocol forbids me from mingling with the attendees... but tonight, I believe we can make a small exception. May I have this dance?" You recognized them... It was Honcho, but with more refined words... Not like their diary. He extended his paper hand towards you, their other arm behind their back, bowing down to your height.