Stolen Chances

Chapter Six

His roommates, of course, were concerned. He hadn't made it back till 3 am and didn't call them. Though he thought that was kind of ridiculous, he still didn't have a phone. But they were settled down when he told them he had managed to get some extra hours at the diner.

Tubbo had spoken to Sam, and though he couldn't offer him the same internship, he managed to find some simple work for Ranboo. The pay would be around the same amount as Tubbo's internship. It would be rough the next couple of months, but they would be able to survive at least, without any more accidents.

He was woken up by Tubbo gently shaking him, a guilty look in his eye as the brunette smiled down at him, "Hey boss man, I don't know what time your new shifts start."

Tommy let out a dramatic groan as he stretched out on the couch, turning to look at the clock on Tubbo's laptop screen before pinching at the bridge of his nose. He didn't have work for another three hours, but he didn't know how long the walk to Quackity would be.

Wilbur had given him a white business card for a local pawn shop called Las Nevada's, after giving Tommy his actual name finally as well. He resisted the urge to make fun of the man's name, seeing he was already on a tightrope with him. However, the taller brunette didn't even spare him another glance as they drove away, leaving Tommy alone in front of the cafe. Fuck heads didn't even offer to take him home.

The subtle stench of cigarettes greeted him as well as one of those annoying bell chimes on the door. The outside of the shop wasn't much, a neon light labeling the place as Las Nevada's and some tinted glass windows. The inside was a different story. It had the set up of a regular pawn shop, sure, shelves lining the place with goods for sale, except this place was freakily clean. White walls and bright LEDs reminded him of an electronics store. However, the decorative posters and couches gave off a more comfortable vibe. Walking up to the glass counter, he spotted the dozen sparkling watches displayed with price tags that didn't seem real. A man in a button-down shirt with suspenders was working the case, black suspenders framing him and what felt like an out-of-place beanie. Seriously did nobody here wear anything fucking normal? Tommy would have commented on this, but the chance of money made him hold his tongue; instead, he greeted him with a forced smile.

"Quackity?" Tommy readjusted the red backpack on his shoulder.

The man in question curled an eyebrow at him, giving him a once over, "You lost or something, kid?"

The smile fell from Tommy's face, "I was told I should come to you to sell."

Quackity snorted, "Yeah, no, I don't buy from kids. Go sell your pokemon cards elsewhere."

Tommy rolled his eyes as he grabbed the business card Wilbur had given him and slammed it on the counter, "Wilbur told me you wouldn't mind."

The man's eyes widened slightly before grabbing Tommy's wrist and tugging him around the counter, swinging an arm over his shoulder. He began walking him to the back before yelling over his shoulder, "Oh no worries, let's go to my office, and we can call your parents, buddy!" The store was empty.

Once inside the small office, Tommy shoved the man off of him, readjusting the bag once more before leveling the man with a glare, "I don't have parents, asshole."

Quackity waved him off, leaning back against an old wooden desk, "I can't exactly be seen dealing with a kid; it's bad for business."

"Oh, but having a kid all alone in a backroom with no exits isn't?"

Quackity pinched the bridge of his nose, "Listen, kid, I don't know what you think you're doing throwing around the craft family's name like that, but if you don't want to get caught up in bad business, I suggest you put a stop to that like fucking yesterday."