Another week had passed, something Beck was slightly proud of realizing. After having been disconnected from reality for so long, relearning how the living world sorted out their time frames had been, needless to say, difficult. The entity was beginning to get the hang of it, but of course, there were times his mind slipped and forgot the day of the week. It caused considerably less damage than, say, forgetting his entire identity, yet it was still an inconvenience, and he hated inconveniences. Like how he was beginning to hate the responsibility of handing out tasks.

    Beck tipped his head to face the sky with a sneer, mocking the sun for the flow of time itself. Whatever, he finally beat whoever invented time and its stupid constructs, and he remembered his schedule of tasks. Probably. Ignoring the small throb of doubt in his punctured chest, the feline lazily sulked through the ghost town's overgrown streets, ducking under untamed vines and offering the rare blink of acknowledgement to busy passerby. Some of them anticipated an upcoming announcement based of the sheer look of boredom on Beck's scarred features, and the direction he was sullenly dragging himself to. Finally halting at the base of the town plaza's demolished statue, he gracelessly spun on his heel to address an approaching crowd with a shrill croak, "It's weekly task time, y'all. Come and get 'em!" He was too accustomed to handing them out. A dull tone edged his words as he gave an impatient puff of air out an inky nose, struggling to brainstorm menial activities for his clan.

    It had taken far too long for him to think enough ideas for the five around him, momentarily going brain-dead as he stared through them in an attempt to process what they could possibly want. Lurching to the left and scratching at his notched ear with his off-behind foot, Beck finally broke his silence with a sickly wheeze, pointing a frigid paw up at Vigenere's chest. "Okay, Vigenere, you'd like to do a task? Well, then teach everyone how to do somethin' ya like, I don't know." As far as he knew, the fellow demon was way too uptight to actually have a hobby; he could get a lot of mileage from Vigenere struggling to explain something he didn't have. A wry smile twisted his disfigured lips at the thought, but the poltergeist moved on to the next in line.

    Nayru seemed like the type to do whatever she was told, a deeply-ingrained obedience that Beck despised. But it was useful if he could figure out how to word things right. "Ya look like ya need a break, Nayru, and ya know what always cheers me up?" he raspily drawled, eyes filmy as if he were recalling simpler times, "Good, old-fashioned pranks. Now go out there and set up a prank that'll make me proud." No doubt it would be a total flop, Nayru didn't seem to know what fun was, especially his morbid and harmful vision of fun. But maybe with some tips to point her in the right direction, she could be the second best prankster in Tanglewood. Maybe.

    All he knew Iota liked to do was stay shut inside her greenhouse all day, always caring for her lame, inanimate plants. Audrey III was way cooler, it was already beginning to devour whole mice -- yet he digressed. A small whistle of waterlogged breath sounded, substituting for a thoughtful hum as he watched her idle movements. "We haven't been to the junkyard out by town in a while -- go out there and bring me back somethin' cool, like, uh, a t.v. or whatever. And maybe somethin' for everyone else, if ya want," Beck rambled aloud, aching for the late midnight hours of his haunting days where he could happily laze in front of a television and distract himself with old movies. Did Iota know what a television was? If she didn't, oh man, she was missing out.

    Amunet was next, and he was stumped for quite a bit on what to burden her with. Knowing he was taking too long anyways, Beck panicked and tried to remember what he had observed teenagers did that often lead them right into his domain. What did they call it? "Truth or dare, right?" he blurted, jerking out of his slouch to address Amunet, "Have one of 'em truth or dare games, I guess." Another opportunity to laugh at people embarrassing themselves, excluding his own mockery.

    He wasn't quite sure what to think of Freyja yet besides one thing: she was ridiculously hyper. Nayru should have been taking her on daily walks, not her little alligator pet. Now how could he get the excitable tabby to burn off all her energy? His ears twitched backwards, recoiling from her purring before clicking his teeth together and rasping,  "Ya know, Freyja, some of the coops up over by the farm must've broken or somethin', and all the chickens or whatever got out. So ya get to herd them all back together before they kill themselves, got it?" Beck let out a broken exhale, punctured lungs sore from all the talking, and clambered back to his feet to leave them with their late tasks.