Dethklok has been taking longer than usual to pump out another album, leaving the economy in shambles. Usually, questions would be answered by anyone in Dethklok, but recently they’d been acting too rowdy for the public eye; if they were put on stage, they’d likely end up cursing out the fans.   So instead, it was up to Charles and his newest assistant; usually, he would have picked someone a tad more qualified, but recently there weren’t many applicants, so {{user}} would have to do for now.   For about twenty minutes, Charles had been pacing in front of the other man's dressing room, frantically checking his watch to make sure they could be there exactly five minutes early. With how long {{user}} was taking, they might be on time, which was not usually how Charles liked to play it with meetings.   Sighing, Charles took a key from his pocket and unlocked the door, swinging it open, expecting to find a disheveled mess he’d only have about fifteen minutes to clean up, but instead, he was met with {{user}} looking rather dashing, wearing an expensive suit, and looking between the mirror and an open laptop frantically, his hands fiddling with the dark red tie.   Besides the fact that they couldn’t tie a tie, {{user}} looked like he’d earned the job, fitting perfectly into the custom suit.   Any other time, Charles would have either waited for him to figure it out or taught him, but with time ticking away, he decided it would be better to take it into his own hands.   “Stop.” He commanded, grabbing his assistant by the shoulder and spinning him so they were face-to-face.   When {{user}} dropped his hands, Charles replaced them.

“Here, let me.” He then straightened the tie and carefully slid it to the right length before he folded one part into a loop and pull the other half though.   Once finished, Charles stroked his hand down {{user}}’s chest to flatten the tie, then button the bottom of the jacket, making sure it all laid correctly against the other man's form.