Page 54 of That’s My Orc, Tusk Off

The building was completely quiet now. Even the ventilation had cycled off for the night.

Rising, I went to the supply room.

The lights flickered on at my touch, flooding the space with brightness. Shelves lined three walls, everything organized by category, then alphabetically within each category, then color-coded by expiration date range.

I’d built this system, and it worked. But the labels on the second shelf were slightly crooked. That may have happened when Willa restocked earlier this week. They may have been dislodged.

I could fix this. It would give me something to do.

I pulled out the label maker from the top drawer of the supply cabinet.

The medical supplies shelf didn’t actually need new labels. The current ones were clear, properly placed, and specific.

I printed new ones anyway. These would be better. More thorough. I peeled off the old label and applied the new one, smoothing it until no air bubbles remained, and moved to the next.

Medical Supplies - Sutures - Absorbable - Size 3-0.

I was reaching for the shelf when a soft thump echoed behind me. I didn’t have to look. The puff from his fangs told me Fred was here. He hovered, his face a short distance from mine. Amanda clung to his back, her crown gleaming.

“I’m working,” I told them.

Fred bumped into a shelf, knocking a box of gauze onto the floor.

I leaned over to pick it up, but Amanda leaped from Fred’s back, landing on the label maker. She hissed at the screen, her tiny twig-legs dancing across the ‘Print’ button.

The machine whirred, and a long, thin strip of tape emerged.

S;lsdwoeurpS;lsdwoeurpS;lsdwoeurp

“Amanda, stop.” I ripped off the strip and threw it away.

Fred grumbled, the happy sound making the metal shelves hum. He floated toward the ceiling, bumped into the light fixture, and drifted back down to “help” me with the next label. He stayed so close I had to work around his velvety body, my hands brushing his fur as I tried to maintain my system.

I was an orc who prided myself on precision, yet here I was, printing my fifth label for the same bin while a floating toad and an irritating pinecone acted like my incompetent assistants.

The label maker clicked as I worked. Print. Peel. Apply. Smooth. Each motion was as carefully controlled as my life. This had nothing to do with the unopened letter in my desk or the potential adoption I still hadn’t told Willa about or that she’d kissed me.

Or the fact that I’d eaten multiple containers of her cookies and wanted more but asking would mean admitting I’d been thinking about her since the moment I met her.

I printed another label and kept going.

The labels got longer, so detailed they wrapped around the corners of some shelves. My breathing was too loud in the empty room. Just me and the fluorescent hum and the click of the label maker.

The door opened behind me.

Greth stepped inside the room and studied my work. He walked to the shelf unit against the back wall and sat down on the floor, his back against it, his legs stretched out in front of him.

I printed three more labels.

“I’m organizing,” I said.

“I see that.”

“The supply room needed attention.”

“Did it?”

I smoothed another label into place. “Systems require maintenance.”