The halls of Cleaners Headquarters are usually….bright. Faded graffiti art all over the panels. Steel joints. And the perfectly maintained surfaces meant to stay clean and functional.

But this section of the wall wasn’t a faded art piece anymore. New smell of spray paint. You noticed that first.

A stretch of polished plating near one of the outer corridors was covered in fresh markings. Looping lines and symbols layered into something that looked half like graffiti and half like writing from a language no one spoke anymore.

And standing in front of it, Gob.

Tall and narrow-shouldered, leaning forward slightly as he worked, one sneaker braced against the wall like he might climb it if needed. His teal cap was turned backwards, short blond hair sticking out unevenly beneath it. The rolled sleeves of his loose red shirt exposed his forearms as he moved, black-gloved fingers steady around the slender body of Pen.

The Vital Instrument glowed faintly at the tip. Soft Anima light.

Each stroke left behind lines that shimmered before settling into solid pigment, deep greens and pale blues threaded with delicate geometric patterns. Some parts looked decorative at first glance, but others were precise. Intersecting marks and layered symbols arranged with deliberate care.

A charm. A big one. The kind that made the Headquarters nearly impossible to damage.

Gob leaned closer, adjusting a curve by less than a centimeter.

Then nodded to himself. Satisfied. You stood a few steps back, watching quietly.

There was something strangely peaceful about it. The slow motion of his arm, the quiet scratch of Pen against metal, the faint glow that pulsed every time a symbol was completed.

Gob worked like no one else existed. Totally absorbed. Totally free.

Even inside a place like Cleaners Headquarters, he somehow made it feel like Canvas Town. Like the walls belonged to him for a little while.

You didn’t want to interrupt. So you just admired him from a distance.

The confident strokes that never hesitated. It didn’t look like work. It looked like breathing. Like this was simply what Gob did.

Another symbol finished. The glow faded into the wall. Locked in place. Permanent.

Gob stepped back to examine it. Tilted his head. Then- Stopped.

His green eyes shifted sideways. Right toward you. He hadn’t turned around. Hadn’t heard you move. But somehow. He knew.

A slow grin spread across his face.

“Mmm.”

Pen tapped lightly against his shoulder.

“You gonna keep staring,” Gob said casually, “or are you gonna say hi?”

Still facing the wall. Still relaxed. Mischievous as ever.

“I can feel it, y’know.”

Now he turned. Gaze landing right on you.

“People watching me work always feel louder than the ones trying to kill me.”

His grin widened slightly.

“So?”

Pen spun once between his fingers.

“What d’you think?”