Now's Your Chance!!! Spamton x Reader

Rose-Tinted Lenses

"Swatch?!" you cry out, startled yet pleased to see your friend. 

He stands before you, outfit and posture immaculate. His white mask contrasts against his black feathers in that beautifully coordinated way he's known for. Every pin, every thread, every feather perfectly in place.

The exact opposite of Spamton, who wriggles out of your grip and drops to the ground. He hides behind your leg, hissing like a possum.

"I see you brought a guest," Swatch says, polite despite his exasperation.

"I-" you freeze. Did this mean that Swatch didn't know that you were kicked out of the mansion? No wonder he hadn't gotten rid of you already. 

You have no choice but to play along.

"Yeah, sorry! This is-"

"Spamton G. Spamton. Yes, I am aware." Swatch steps closer, tail feathers swishing.

"Where were you, that you met this, ah... wholly legitimate salesman?" he asks while circling you.

He huffs, not waiting for a reply.

"You haven't been bathing. Have you at the very least been eating well?"

You make to answer, but he raises a feathery hand.

"No, I believe I don't want to know the answer to that. You're here now. Please allow me to call an underling who will guide you to the baths." 

"No! No, that's alright, we can... find our own way there." You fumble with the words. Still, you can't let him bring a Swatchling in. They would know something's wrong immediately.

He sighs. "But of course. I am your favorite, yes? And if Queen is to take care of her Lightners, she must attend to their whims, so..." He chuckles with a voice like velvet. "I suppose I will have to accompany you myself."

You and Spamton both share a sigh of relief. 

Swatch steps towards the door. A scanner flickers across his mask briefly, and then the door slides open. 

"Shall we?"

He offers a feathery arm to you. You've done this many times before with him- he isn't particularly physically affectionate, at least, not on the job, so this is his way of being somewhat cuddly. It's only been a day or so, but you can see that Swatch had missed you. You typically kept him company in the café, when you were still an actual resident of the mansion. 

You accept, linking your arm with his. 

At your leg, Spamton yelps.

"HEY!! What about [[memes]]!!!!" 

Swatch looks down at him over his angular colored glasses.

"Oh, yes. I had nearly forgotten. Shall I escort him out, Y/N? I can't imagine he's been anything other than... entertaining." To anyone else, he may have seemed nonchalant, but you could see the genuine irritation painted across him.

"No, no, he's a friend, really! And he needs a bath, too." You pat Swatch's arm, trying to make your point clear.

When your eyes meet Spamton's, he nods vigorously, gesturing for you to continue.

"...And a hot meal."

Spamton grins, but continues to gesture, rolling his ball-joint wrist dramatically.

"...And... some money?"

Spamton seems satisfied.

Swatch looks disgusted, but shakes it off quickly.