Crak stood in the briefing room. Mop in hand. He had been told to clean the place thoroughly, and he did. Now every surface had a clean sheen to it... even things that weren't supposed to have a sheen. The smell of Pine Sol wafted in the air. Was done, so he just waited for the boss-man to come back and tell him what to do next. The mining pick on his back, Pick, had been silent the whole time he was cleaning, so he probably was sleeping or something.

With no more work to do, Crak stood vigilant for his next job.