’Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
      Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogoves,
      And the mome raths outgrabe.
“Beware the Jabberwock, my son!
      The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun
      The frumious Bandersnatch!”
He took his vorpal sword in hand;
      Long time the manxome foe he sought—
So rested he by the Tumtum tree
      And stood awhile in thought.
And, as in uffish thought he stood,
      The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,
Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,
      And burbled as it came!
Aspen executed a quick twirl and hefted his mop like the vorpal sword in the poem he was quietly reciting, putting it to an old tune from the Outworld. Water splashed and flicked onto the wall beside him and slid down, sudsy and slick, to the ground. "Whoops!" He smiled foolishly and tried to dab away the dampness with his shirt, leaving a dark stain on both the wall and his own chest. Aspen let out an aggrieved sigh. Another shirt that needed to be laundered later!
Ah, well. 
He continued mopping, swirling the damp head lazily, letting it trail along while it soaked up the dust and the dirt. Down here in the basement, dust accumulated as quickly as the master's toys. Aspen was the eager volunteer who brandished the mop in order to keep their living quarters clean, and on weekends he also did the laundry and wiped down the narrow windows set high up on the walls. He did so cheerfully and without complaint because that meant pleasing Master, and when Master was pleased, they all had it a little bit easier. 
Right now, Master was away. Aspen was permitted to resume his human form for the purposes of cleaning, which was nice because he got to stretch his legs. And dance a little. And hum and sing under his breath. The others were in various stages of sleep or resting; there wasn't much to do except store energy because Master could get rather... carried away in his excitement some nights. Better to sleep off the horrors, or simply try to find a nicer place than their dank, musty basement--even if it only existed now in dreams.
Aspen smiled softly at Dal in passing, loitering in front of him for a little longer than was strictly necessary. He didn't say anything because he never knew what to say to Dal when he had the chance, but he made sure that Dal saw him before moving on, dragging the mop with him. A glance at the clock revealed that it was getting close to nighttime, and that meant he had to hurry! If Master came back to a half-mopped floor, he might want to have... words with Aspen.
Hustling and running around with the mop, now no longer reciting silly human poetry or singing, he finished just in time. The door handle jiggled as Aspen was tucking the mop and bucket away into the supply closet. He ran for his cage, heart beating triple time, and leapt towards it, shifting in mid-air. The fuzzy white rabbit bounded into the hutch and strained up on little hind paws to bat at the metal door.
Aspen scurried and buried himself down against his bedding, until all that was left was a pink, twitching nose and a pair of bright blue eyes peering out.