Friendship Application || Quackity x OC ☑️

dieciséis | meetup (pt. 2)

Dawn | meetup (pt. 2)

Is he going to leave me a glass slipper at least before he disappears into the night? It isn't even midnight yet but this reminds me so much of a scene from every Cinderella reprise.

The food hasn't even arrived, I thought. But what am I thinking? What right do I have to be disappointed over something so petty. This isn't right, Dawn.

Nonetheless, Alex is a busybody. He works a lot and has projects to put into fruition —and he loves it that way. "That's okay, no need to be—"

"—come with me," he cut me off before I could finish.

Did he just— "I'm sorry, say that again?" There must be massive cerumen build-up in my auditory canals, I'm starting to mishear things.

"You can come with me! It'll be fun. I'm pretty sure Jimmy won't mind. And fucking Karl— that idiot has been bugging me to introduce him to you." Karl? The Karl Jacobs wants to be introduced to me? I'm sorry, I wasn't informed I've been transported into an upside-down world or that I have conductive hearing loss.

I held the loose parts of the jacket enclosing his arm and looked up to meet his gaze, "You're making a video with Karl and MrBeast?" This is one of those eye sparkle moments. "I'd love to come!"

He halted for a moment, then covered his face with a hand and chuckled, "You'd love to what, doc?" My forehead creased, eyebrows met halfway. I'd love to come, what's wrong with that? "You'd love to come?"

"Yeah—" and it hit me. Why this, this incorrigible, dirty-minded jerk. "Ha ha ha, Alex," I deadpanned.

"I'm messing with you. Of course you can come," he emphasized to which I groaned, "with me. It's gonna be so fucking cool if you're there."

"You sure? What are you even going to shoot. I'm surprised they're here, all the way from North Carolina, right?"

"Yeah 'cause you know since Jimmy did that thing where he'd buy fucking properties for videos in every state?" I lightly scratched the back of my head. I think he announced something along that line 5 years ago. Last year, he built his second chocolate factory in Tennessee. "Can you believe how fucking rich that guy is, like, what the hell?"

I let out a, hopefully not disgusting sounding, giggle, "Very true, also very generous though." I followed behind him as he told the waiter that we'll take our order to-go before we walked towards the parking lot.

"Did you bring a car with you?" He asked, to which I responded to by shaking my head. "What the— how'd you get here?"

"Uhh, I walked, Mr. I-Make-Millions-I-Forgot-about-Walking Sir. Parlay is pretty close to where I'm staying so I thought a little exercise wouldn't hurt my banana-shaped back." Giving myself a little stretch and exercise can remedy scoliosis and other lumbar or sacral pains from long periods of sitting in front of my desk.

"Banana-shaped, fuck, that's crazy but true." He let out a loud laugh. Thankfully, there weren't many people in the vicinity.

I hear the typical car beep as we approached a black auto —forgive me for my lack of automobile literacy. "Where are you guys going to film the video?"

"There's this empty lot close to the Halcyon Hotel, about 30 minutes away from here," he starts the engine and soon enough, we were on the road. "I'm so fucking late," he mutters under his breath. "Sorry, I totally forgot about this 'cause they invited me, like, a month ago. It slipped my mind, now I know exactly how George felt during the election."