Johnny was once again being reluctantly escorted to one of the many chambers of the hotel.

Seriously, how big was this place?

"Third time's the charm." was Mrs. Dracula's quiet observation. "I trust you slept well?"

"Whuh? Oh, oh yeah, sleep, slept great."

Well, at least the sleep was great for maybe the half hour that he actually got it. Trying to sleep when it was still daytime outside was hard. Trying to fall asleep in a strange room in a strange hotel owned by a strange scary vampire lady who might kill him in his sleep was even harder.

Plus, you know, evidently monsters made a lot of weird, kind of scary noises when they slept. It did remind him of some youth hostels though. But yeah, when he actually did sleep, he slept great. Until some screaming skull phone thing woke him up, and this lady was standing right outside his door when he tried to get out.

Though the screaming skull phone thing did remind him of this one roommate who had the weirdest hobby of stealing people's shoelaces and using them to—

"I'm happy to hear that." Dracula observed with a cheery brightness, roughly jerking his train of thought back on track. "I was worried you wouldn't be an evening person, but I had a feeling you were, what with all that, ah, enthusiasm of yours. I bet you're raring to take on a brand new night, aren't you?"

"Well, I-I guess s—"

"Wonderful! Then let's get started."

"Um, wait, where's Mavis?"

"She's occupied at the moment, as you will be, too."

She opened the door to the room where she personally hoped he'd be able to stay for a good long while this time.

"Welcome to the hotel armory, Johnny-Stein."

Johnny's sleep-deprived eyes took in the rows upon rows of neatly-lined knights, who all saluted as one in a fantastic, unified CRASH of metal that made him jump.

" . . . What's . . . this . . . have to do with party planning?" was his question once he finally managed to get various brain cells to un-cringe.

He was definitely wide awake now, confusedly taking in the supernatural regime.

"A celebration should not have even one unpolished soldier."

"Um, that's cool, I guess? But—"

"Don't interrupt. This is a task best taken care of as soon as possible," She wasn't even trying to come up with a rational excuse this time. "You'll find the shine, water, and washrags in that alcove to the side over there. I leave this to you in your presumably capable hands, Mr. Stein. Make it so that by the time you're done you will see your face as clear as a mirror in each and every one of them." She then added to herself in a small mutter, "Assuming that would actually be an improvement, of course."

Johnny-Stein stood dumbfounded at her side, before managing a vague, flapping, two-armed gesture that conveyed confusion and incredulity. "B-but this is—"

She ignored his protests, turning towards the door, "I'll send someone to bring food to you later. Unless I forget. Good luck!"

"But this—!"

But now she was outside, with the doors shut firmly behind her, cutting off any more protests the young man could have made. She took a moment to breathe in, and then exhale in relief, enjoying this brief interlude of blessed silence. Dracula then looked to the side, and turned a stationed knight's head with one finger to make him look her in the eyes.

"All of you watch that boy." she said. "This time he doesn't set a foot outside this room without my knowing, and even then he will not make it any further. Understood?"

The knight in front of her sharply saluted. They were all very good at saluting. "Yes, ma'am."

She patted him on the side of his helmet.

"Good. Then I won't have to plan on turning you into stainless steel cutlery?"

"No, ma'am."

The knight held the salute until she left, and then he relaxed, twirling his spear thoughtfully to himself.

"Huh. She's only used the cutlery threat so far. She must be in a good mood."

. . .

"Now, dearie, are you feeling well? I know that's not the best Gobelin stitch you can do."

"Sorry, Ms. Decima," Mavis stated through desperately grinning teeth, hurriedly undoing the sloppy threads. Her mother had found the worst thing to occupy Mavis with: needlework. One of the guests was only too happy to take up Mavis's instruction, and Mavis had been in no position to refuse. "I guess I'm just a little bit stressed."

It was the woman's smile that did it, had to have done it, some elderly ladies have this kind of hopeful, helpful smile that you just don't want to disappoint - not to mention wanting to keep your own mother off your back - so you agreed you'd do just a little until you could get away, and the next thing you know you've done two-and-a-half hours' worth of embroidery and drank just as many pots of tea. She had no idea how this was still happening.

"Oh, that's quite alright, I understand. A birthday is an exciting thing, and it's your 118th no less!" The elderly witch sighed happily, weaving at her own loom, "Seems like only yesteryear when you were a baby, I remember making one of your blankets, I believe you still have it somewhere, the purple one with that charming nightshade detail - oh, you remember my sister Nona? She helped make it, too, you'll notice she just has the loveliest way of hemming - and her blind stitches are legendary, there was this one time that she—"

The lady kept talking, the loom kept click-clack-clicking, and the needle kept trying to slip its way out of Mavis's sweaty fingers and she can't get this freaking stitch!

Over a century's worth of instilled good manners for your elders, and reminding herself that it wasn't this well-meaning woman's fault that she was here, was all that was keeping Mavis from screaming into her own embroidery canvas, or outright snapping it in two. She just had to do a few more stitches until she could find an excuse to get away.

The needle broke between her fingertips, a moment of hope? A reason for escape? But no.

The moment of hope was lost while it took another fifteen minutes for the lady to kindly get her another one.

Good grief, the things she was going through for this guy.

. . .

"You know, I'm starting to get the feeling that Mrs. Dracula doesn't like me."

"I would not know a thing about that, sir." the soldier responded lightly, before adding, "Please mind that you don't miss the knees."

"Yeah, yeah," Johnny huffed, plunging a rag back into the soapy bucket, before getting back to soldier number, uh, something or other. He forgot which number this one was, he stopped counting after number twenty-whatever. Lots of soldiers down, a whole lot more to go.

"I mean, I don't get why she wants me doing this - you know you all have your own hands, why can't you do this yourself?"

Without answering, the next knight down the line brought up one hand and began scratching at their own chest, producing the most awful metallic scraping Johnny ever heard, it was like a thousand nails on chalkboards, forcing a shiver to roll up Johnny's spine.

"Whenever Spring cleaning came around Lady Dracula was about ready to melt us down," the soldier in front of him finished explaining with a shrug of the shoulders, after the demonstration was over. "Imagine all of us doing that at once and you get the idea."

"Woo, yeah," Johnny agreed, rolling his own shoulders to try and shake the shivers. Goosebumps. He was ready to sop the wash rag again, when he paused.

"Speaking of, how do you do that?"

"Do what, sir?"

"You know, the, that thing, the 'all at once' thing, you know, the—" Johnny mimicked snapping to attention in a salute. "That."

"Oh, that." They sounded almost smug.

As one, their hands rose.

Too late, Johnny's eyes widened, "Oh no, wait, you don't have to show me right—"

As one, they saluted back. Hundreds of metal hands met hundreds of metal helmets in perfect unison with a resounding, thunderous BOOM!

It rang up to the distant rafters.

". . . Now." the young man finished weakly once the echo died away. In covering his ears, he'd smacked himself across the face with the wet washrag. "Ugh." He tried wiping his face dry with his sleeve. Where the scratching sound was metal nails on a chalkboard, that sound could've been called something like a metal cannon. "Woo, that's a rush," he decided, before continuing, "Yeah, that, how do you do that all at once, like - oh, all of you try this!"

He waved one of his hands. They all looked at each other, before one shrugged. They all waved back, all at the same time, it was freaky and freaking cool.

"How?!" Johnny repeated, excited.

There was a thoughtful pause as they all looked at each other again.

One moved his hands as if to display the word in the air, "Mmmagic." was said simply.

Jonathan rolled his eyes. Figures. Then his eyes brightened - he had an idea.

An awesome idea.

"Hey, you all wanna try something?"

"Sir, we should get back to cleaning." one of the knights reminded him carefully, but their curiosities were piqued.

"Oh, we will, we will, no problem! But while you all are waiting, 'cause you know I can only do one of you guys at a time, you wanna try something?"

They weren't sure how to handle this question. Well, he wasn't asking to leave the room.

"Like what?"

He grinned, dashing back to the front of the room, yanking out his phone and hooking it up to the mini-speaker he managed to sneak into this jacket's pockets. He set it up on one of the small tables, finally finding the song.

"You guys just do what this music tells you to, okay? Feel the beat!" he told them excitedly. As the music started playing, he slid back to the soldier he was cleaning, already moving to the rhythm that began to echo all the way to the back of the armory. The knights looked confused, but interested, already nodding in time, as Johnny shouted along word for word the opening of a song called the Cha Cha Slide.

The bass thumped through the room, the knights could feel indeed its beat thrum through the shells of their armor.

This rhythm could also be heard faintly throughout the entire hotel.

Somewhere in the building, Mavis looked up at the sound, having just escaped from her mother's attempt at a babysitter.

And somewhere else, Martha paused, looking up from the clipboard in her hands and frowning in suspicion.

A pack of werewolf pups, however, found the noise to be the most interesting one they'd heard all day, and decided to search for what was making it.

. . .

Mavis burst into the room to once again find chaos in the form of a synchronized dance party.

The whole armory was dancing, along with what looked like every single werewolf child jumping around their feet. Soapy water covered the entire floor, making her slip to try and step on it. This place was turned into another skating rink, the sink was running to overflow, bubbles floated everywhere, turning different colors with the lights - where the heck did they get the lights? Somehow a whole bunch of bubbles had been turned into a translucent disco ball, being bounced around the mixed furry, metallic crowd.

"Mavey!" she heard Johnny yelp, and he sped past her, being yanked along by his own little sled team of hyperactive pups. "Grab a washrag, join in!"

The song's bass was thumping in her ears.

To the right, to the right, to the right, to the right!

The knights complied, dancing, their armor glistening clean with the movement.

"Wait, what's going on?!" she called after him, hastily skating across the floor between the kids. She did try to grab a cloth, unintentionally playing tug-of-war with one of them, which one was this one? Willis or Wendell? Or maybe it was Warren? Auntie Wanda should really put sweaters on these kids with their names on them.

To the left, to the left, to the left, to the left!

All the knights were doing so, forcing her to shift between them. What kind of song was this? It sounded a bit like really weird disco.

"This one's called Cupid Shuffle!" Johnny called over his shoulder, she could see his grin from here, "You missed the Slide!"

Now kick, now kick, now kick, now kick!

She dodged the soldiers' kicking legs. Sheesh, these guys could've auditioned for cabaret.

"I'm already sliding!" she protested, becoming surrounded by more pups, trying to catch up to him, then she had an idea and asked the boys, "Speed up, speed up!" letting them pull her faster across the floor. But then the pups pulling Johnny took that to mean they were racing, Mavis squeaked as this chase took them all around the armory, weaving around whole troops of dancing knights. The overall noise was incredible.

Now walk it by yourself, now walk it by yourself!

"These little dudes are awesome! Hey, you ever been waterskiing?" she heard Johnny ask, "This is kinda like that but soapier and hairier!"

"And louder!" she added. But somehow catchy.

"But isn't it fun?!"

"Yes, but that's not the point!"

"Can't hear you!" Johnny shouted happily, joking, "Try to keep up!"

Down, down, do your dance, do your dance,

Down, down, do your dance, do your dance...

Mavis grumbled, then smirked, "Faster, guys," she muttered to her team, "And there will be bacon for the winners."

That set up another round of happy howling, and the waterski/dance party/sled dog race was on. "There you go!" Jonathan whooped, laughing.

"You are so gonna get it when I catch you!" she promised, but with a grin.

"I think you gotta actually catch me first, then I might be worried!"

"We're gonna get caught!"

"What?!" Johnny asked, hard of hearing for real this time.

Mavis rolled her eyes, giving up. "You're nuts!" she stated bluntly, loud enough for him to hear, but her accusation was underlined with a smile.

Down, down, do your dance, do your dance...

She was catching up to him, and they were neck to neck when he asked with a smile, "What, are you allergic to nuts?"

Mavis was confused, thinking he misheard again, "No?"

"Good to know!" he stated happily, and Mavis had to blush.

For lack of a better response, she jostled him with her shoulder, throwing him off balance, then her team wound up tussling with his team in a yipping, snarling riot, tangling them together. The end result was a confusing, raucous tumble of fur and limbs sliding across the soapy floor.

The pack of pups suddenly dispersed to dance or just wreak general havoc, the racing game over, leaving Mavis and Johnny in a wide-eyed daze, standing in the middle of the floor. Mavis had somehow ended up holding Johnny, his arms around her neck, her legs awkwardly locked to keep from slipping. The knights continued to dance around them, still caught up in the music.

Johnny blinked first, taking in their surroundings, then grinned at Mavis; her blush managed to deepen at the closeness of their faces.

"So-o, wanna dance?" he asked, obliviously cheerful.

She was saved from answering by the door to the armory slamming open, bringing the music to a halt like a scratched record.

She was at the same time doomed, because the one behind the door was her mom. Martha looked livid. The knights froze in mid-step, before abruptly assuming formation, helmets managing to express guilt, the werewolf pups took one look at the vampire and fled the room, parting around her like a yapping stream on the way out. Martha's eyes were quickly drawn to the awkward couple in the middle of the floor. An eyebrow twitched.

"THAT

is

IT."

"Mom." Mavis squeaked, dropping Johnny with a thud and an "Ow." on his part. "I-I can expl—"

"Later." her mother snapped, approaching the unfortunate young man, who hastily tried to backpedal away on his hands and feet, before she snatched him up by the collar of his oversized jacket. "I've had about enough of this nonsense."

"B-but—"

"Go to your room or back to your knitting, Mavis. You owe an apology to Ms. Decima. We'll talk at lunch."

Before Mavis could argue Martha pointed to a few knights, who flinched, "You, you, and you, escort her. And I'll deal with the rest of you later."

"Yes, ma'am."

She glared at the young man hanging from her grip like a scruffed puppy. "You're coming with me."

Jonathan waved weakly at Mavis before he was carried out.

"I was doing the cleaning." Johnny protested.

"And yet you still managed to make a nuisance of yourself," she grumbled. "That noise could be heard up to the attics! No more."

"But I wasn't finished."

"Oh this is finished in every sense of the word."

"No, wait, we haven't even gotten to the Macarena yet!"

"No Macarena!"

"Aw. How about the Hamster Dance?"

"No hamsters!"

Songs about pasta and rodents - more inane nonsense.

"Okay, yeah, I know, some of the stuff is kind of old school, but I thought I'd start everybody out on something—"

He's shut up by a glare of chilly steel that makes him squeak.

"Try to impress me with your silence." she stated flatly.

Someone clears their throat next to them. Martha looks down to see Wayne casually falling into step with them. "I gotta agree with the kid. You did kind of cut that party short, Mar." the werewolf mentioned, slightly reproachful, but with an amused smile hinting at the corner of his mouth.

"There was no party," Martha replied dryly, attempting to ignore him as they walked down the hall, "There was fooling around when there should have been work."

"Say what you want, but I think that's the first time my kids willingly took something close enough to a bath."

"Small favors." she grumbled.

Johnny looked uncomfortable and unhappy, until he looked down at Wayne, who winked up at him.

Wayne put his paws in his pockets, "You know, I think this guy here's supposed to be your party planner, you might wanna cut him a little slack?"

"There's planning and then there's," Martha struggled to find the right word, "That. If he can't follow simple instructions, why should I trust him with important things?"

Johnny was about to protest, when her hand gave him a slight warning shake, and he shut up, still intimidated into silence. He settled for crossing his arms and scowling. Wayne wasn't done yet, though, humming a little to himself. "The pups kind of liked that music..." he said thoughtfully.

"They also like chewing old shoes. They can't help having bad taste." was her snide retort.

Wayne smirked, not taking it personally, "I can't argue with you much there. But, well, you gotta admit, the music was kind of catchy wasn't it?"

Johnny nodded in enthusiastic agreement, while Martha just rolled her eyes. "Yes, 'catchy'. More like catching some sort of sick - wait, what are you implying?" She now looked down at him with suspicious scrutiny, suddenly wary of the smile he wasn't even bothering to hide.

"Oh, I'm not implying anything," Wayne assured her, stopping, causing her to stop as well. "I'm just making chitchat. Now, I'll be the first to tell you that my kids can't sing worth a lick, but they can bark, growl, and howl out a nearly good tune if they want to, know what I'm saying? Though, gosh darn it, once they get started on something, it seems really, really difficult to get them to stop. It's just like a tune stuck in your head. Going all. Week. Long."

Horror dawned in Martha's eyes. She was nearly twice the werewolf's height, but he stood unfazed by her bristling.

"You wouldn't dare."

Wayne shrugged, openly smug, "Hey, you're the one always telling me to get them a - how'd ya put it? A 'creative outlet'?"

Johnny glanced uneasily back and forth between them as they bickered, it was like watching a pingpong match, but with more bared teeth.

"We clearly have different definitions of 'creative'. That is destructive."

"What, nobody appreciates music anymore?"

"There will be suffering. By many. By you."

"Meh, I'm used to suffering, and I'm half-deaf anyway. I think it'd be neat to share the suffering for a change. You wanna teach the kids about sharing, right?"

"I do not think they'd like what I have to teach them if you go through with that very bad idea."

"Oh, I wouldn't try, Mrs. Drac. We both know you wouldn't want to make Wanda upset." Wayne warned her in a moment of seriousness, before relaxing, reminding her with a grin, "Who knows, maybe they will, maybe they won't. I'm just saying, maybe you should take things easy on Johnny here and learn to lay off a little, or I'll have to go buy some CDs, and you'll have to go buy some stock in ibuprofen."

Martha seethed silently, teeth gritting, emanating an aura of darkness. Johnny whimpered when he felt her grip tighten for a moment over the nape of his neck.

Suddenly the aura dissipated, and she smiled brightly down at Wayne, "Perhaps you are right, dear friend. I may have been looking at this from the entirely wrong angle. My bad." She suddenly released her hand, dropping Johnny to the floor once more with another "Ow."

"Goodness, but I have been stressed," Martha continued thoughtfully, tapping her fingers against her chin, her smile chiseled into place in the face of Wayne's own triumphant, knowing grin. "Some might say that." the wolf-man agreed.

"There just seems to be this headache I can't get rid of. But what can one do? What is it that you like to say, Johnny-Stein?" she smiled down at the young man, who swallowed. Somehow her smile was scarier than her glare. "That I should 'roll with it'? Now I wonder how should I go about doing that. Any thoughts? Where should we roll from here?"

There is a moment of fearful silence, until Johnny's stomach growls loud enough to make even Wayne look surprised.

"Good grief, Mar, have you even been feeding this kid?"

Martha dropped the act, the smile falling into a scowl. "Fine, to lunch it is, then. There's an open buffet by the pool, you can take him there."

Wayne tilted his head, "You sure that won't be too much of a 'headache' for you?"

"Go, go." Martha scoffed, waving a hand at him, massaging her forehead with the other. She turned to leave, "And please, by all means, take him with you. For crying out loud, I really do have a headache now, it'd probably be best to get away from the causes for a while. I'll be back with Mavis."

"Cool. See you there!" Wayne called after her, before lending the befuddled Johnny a paw to help him up. "Not so scary now, is she?" he asked jokingly, giving Johnny a friendly elbowing, "You just gotta know what she wants. Or what she doesn't want."

"You're not scared of her?" Johnny wondered, uneasily looking over his shoulder to watch her leave.

"Oh, she terrifies me." Wayne assured him, "But we go way back. She's a nice lady at heart, though don't get me wrong, she should really try to let loose every now and then." Wayne sighed, "If she even remembers how to. Maybe that's where you could come in, with all that stuff you've been doing," Wayne chuckled, "I haven't seen her that worked up in years."

. . .

The vampiress in question continued on with a stormy air, grumbling under her breath, arms crossed so harshly that her shoulders hunched under her ears.

"Of all the times to grow some spine, that flea-bitten, mange-ridden, pencil-pushing little...!"

She muttered a few more choice insults about the impertinent mongrel and his offspring before cooling down.

This was okay. This was not according to plan, at all, but it was okay, it was . . . manageable. She'd have to have another small talk with Mavis about politeness and expectations, and later a staff meeting with the knights concerning proper workplace behavior and the consequences of disregarding such, but that was a small concern. She'd also have to make sure to take care of any noise complaints from this.

Except that there . . . hadn't been any noise complaints. From anyone. Which was a relief and an annoyance and a concern at the same time.

You could hear that garbage all throughout the hotel!

How could anyone have actually liked that garbage?!

. . .

How did that garbage go again?

She hummed reluctantly to herself, finger tapping a faint beat against her shoulder.

It went something like...

She swayed absently to the instruction, beginning to slide down hall.

Something like: to the right, to the right, to the right, to the right,

To the left, to the left, to the left, to the -

NO.

She stomped harshly on her own foot, an anxious hiss issuing through her teeth. Then she looked around hastily, to make sure nobody had seen that. Wide-eyed and faintly pink-faced, she continued on a little more self-consciously, silently snarling at the stubborn tune stuck in her head.

The impertinent mongrel was right. It was catchy.