Now's Your Chance!!! Spamton x Reader

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In an uncomfortable not-quite-silence, Spamton leads you to his shop. 

He mutters to himself as you walk. Even when you can hear him, it's impossible to tell what he's saying, as it's all encoded in advertisements. Occasionally he glances back at you, but his eyes turn back to the path the moment he knows you've caught him looking.

Eventually, he seems to reach some kind of decision. He falls truly silent afterwards. 

You feel a sudden need to fill the silence before it swallows you.

"...So, uh... why do we have to do this at your shop?"

Spamton stops in his tracks. 

He whips his head to look at you, his eyes vicious and his teeth opening just enough to let out a harsh hiss.

"You never know who's listening."

He then turns back without waiting for a reply, walking faster than before.

You know he won't tell you more, and you have nothing more to say.

With growing tension, you continue to follow.

~~~

You finally reach his shop. He ushers you inside, and you both take your places at his desk. 

Spamton's shoulders slump as he relaxes. He runs a hand through his hair,  fixing it from the mess it had been before. 

After getting himself situated, he finally places his hands on the desk. When he smiles, you know that it's time.

"Lightner, it's time to get down to [BUSINES]." He snaps, and a sprawling contract appears in his hands. He lays it out across the desk, adjusts his glasses, and gets to reading.

"You're [[Not For Sale]] your [HeartShapedObject], correct?"

You cringe, but nod. 

He nods in turn, seemingly taking it in stride. But then his smile warps. For a moment, it's shark-like, but then it turns into something guilty.

"As you can see here," he points, "you are currently obligated to [DONATE TO CHARITY]. I have completed my end of the deal. You are [[Shines Like New!!]], as promised." He doesn't meet your eyes.

"Wait," you frown. "Wait. That wasn't the deal we made. And I never signed that contract."

He chuckles. "You sure did, [[BIG SHOT]]. The terms changed, and the contract reflects that. You signed. Take a [Sneak Peek]." He pushes the contract towards you.

You shift it so you can see. 

He's right. The contract describes two deals- your second deal, for a place to stay in exchange for a disk, and a parody of your first deal. Your soul for determination. No free trial, no "maybes" about it. And your signature was there at the bottom.

You remember writing out that exact signature. It wasn't on a contract, though. It was on a receipt.

"You have to be kidding me," you scoff. "Did you forge this? I signed that stupid piece of paper to make you happy. It didn't mean anything more than that."

His eyes widen briefly, but the look is obscured behind something sharp.

"You should have read the [[FINE PRINT]]," he says with an uncomfortable smile. He picks up the contract and runs a hand over it. It shimmers under his touch, then shrinks into a small, crumpled receipt. 

It is exactly what you thought it was.

Your hands curl into fists in your lap. Anger bubbles up inside, burning red hot in your veins.