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"Say, Stanley," The Narrator's voice rang out though the office building hallway. Stanley had been walking down this same hallway for the better part of an hour now, with the Narrator chiming in only intermittently. This was a bit strange, Stanley had to admit, given how much the man usually loved the sound of his own voice.
Stanley tilted his head, his signal to The Narrator that he was listening.
"Ah, well, I've been thinking," The Narrator began again, "You know how - hm, there isn't really a delicate way to put this - you know how you don't really speak?"
Stanley arched an eyebrow. Well that was a bit rude. He didn't think that statement was worth indulging with a response so he continued on, keeping his ears open nonetheless. The Narrator quickly continued.
"We've been doing this for quite some time now and it's often still hard to tell what you're thinking. I know being a loose cannon is fun for you, but it would certainly make my life a lot easier if you could warn me before taking unexpected detours. I suppose you could write out your thoughts, but there isn't always a pen and paper around. It's frustratingly difficult to find a writing utensil in this office building sometimes. Anyway, I've been doing some research and I think I found something that might be of interest. Could you do me a favor and take that door on your right?"
Sure enough, a little ways down the hallway, a door on Stanley's right hand side swung open.
He paused and considered his options. Stanley usually ignored The Narrator, or purposefully chose actions to agitate the pompous man. While Stanley had grown fond of him over time, there was a certain satisfaction in frustrating the man so thoroughly.
Stanley knew The Narrator liked to speak, but rarely did he prattle on in the way he was now. This made Stanley curious. What was he planning? Stanley stepped into the door on his right.
"Oh, good! You're following directions today," The Narrator spoke as Stanley dramatically rolled his eyes.
Through the door was a room. In the center of the room, very conspicuous under a spotlight, was a table. Stanley's eyes fell to the object on the table, and he quirked a smile. A book? There were already plenty of books. If Stanley needed a book, he could just grab one from his boss's office.
The Narrator was conspicuously and uncharacteristically quiet now. Was he waiting for a reaction? Stanley decided to humor him, and walked up to the table.
He picked up the book and read the title.
Sign Language For Dummies
Stanley stared at it. He had never bothered to learn. He hadn't needed it for his job and, well, there hadn't been anything else before.
Despite the glaring insult to his intelligence, Stanley understood the scope of this gift.
"No need to thank me," The Narrator spoke once again. "I have a copy as well. It might take some time, but- hey are you even listening to me!?"
Stanley didn't respond. He was preoccupied flipping the pages of the book, slowly at first and then quickly, leafing through, looking for something.
When he found it, he held the book in one hand and signed with the other, disobeying his companion once again.
<Thank you.>
There was a pause, during which, presumably, The Narrator was interpreting Stanley's message.
Then, a poorly concealed scoff, or maybe a laugh, the two seemed to go hand in hand for the Narrator in relation to Stanley's antics.
Stanley flipped to a different page and fingerspelled an addition.
<D - O - R - K>