A youngster sneaks up behind "Dex" and pokes his side and says "tag, you're it!" and runs off giggling. He and his friends were helping a renovation project the children's hospital had badly needed. -- The New Guy
When is a king not a king? When he's not doing the king's job. Dex, like his father before him, had his sleeves rolled up to help out with something that needed to be done. It was better than sitting in his office and doing paperwork while others were outdoors in the fresh air. Well. Relatively fresh air.
Like his father before him, Dex would much rather be doing than signing.
The real builders had given him the prentice work of applying plaster to the finished brickwork. All without any of the prentice pranks like fetching a left-handed screwdriver or tartan paint. Putting the plaster up properly was relatively simple work and he was a quick learner. He could focus on the meditative rhythm of pressing paste onto the surface and sweeping it smooth.
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