Now's Your Chance!!! Spamton x Reader

Blast Radius

Spamton reels back with a yelp. 

When the smoke clears, you see frazzled hair, off-kilter glasses, and a black void where his jaw is supposed to be.

"Holy fuck, are you okay?!" You lean forward on a knee, spilling cards without a second thought as you reach for him. You hold his painted cheek in a hand, terror pumping through your veins as you try to figure out what just happened.

Noises vaguely adjacent to words spill out of him, but you can't understand. He gives up and just waves his hands to reassure you. 

You gasp for breath, unable to find the words to describe the panic you feel. You just hurt him, didn't you? Why is he so calm about it?

He pats your hand, and you let go of his face. 

He adjusts his glasses and scans the bottom of the boat for just a moment. Once he finds what he's looking for, he lifts it up triumphantly.

His jaw.

He takes it and jams it back into his face. He locks his thumbs under his chin and his fingers over his teeth with relaxed skill, using the handholds to adjust his jaw as he fits it back into place.

He opens and closes his mouth with a concentrated expression.

Satisfied, he looks to you with a grin.

"See? Perfectly [[Okey Dokie Artichoke-y]]!" 

"Wh- Huh?" Concern has you paralyzed, but it finally starts to fade as you see that he's alright.

"Pros and [conmen] to being a puppet," he chuckles.

You take a deep breath.

"Okay. Okay. So you're... not hurt?"

"PFftahaheaheh! As if a pipis could [[FOR EVERLASTING LiFE!!!!!! CLICK HERE]]!!" His jaw makes an abnormal clicking noise as he laughs. He casually knocks it with a hand and it makes another, separate, click, after which the other clicking stops.

"You're terrifying," you comment, only half-joking.

"Aw, don't [[celebrity tweets]] that, angel! I'm supposed to [b] a [Charm Your Friends And Your Family And Your Lover And Your Side Chickie], not a [[Sawsall]]!" He bats his eyes at you dramatically.

When instead of making you laugh like it should, it makes your heart skip a beat, you just groan and look away.

What a stupid time to feel this sort of thing.

What a stupid time to wonder if you're starting to catch feelings.

"Gee, doll, if you were [[never be Bored Again when You PLay this game]], you could have just said so," Spamton jokes, switching the topic. He gives a pointed look to your knees, which are currently placed directly on the mess of cards you created.

"I- Oh. Sorry," you say, shifting off and away. You move back to your spot across from him.

"No worries. That was our [[FINAL OFFER]] anyway." 

He smiles at you warmly.

Before your eyes, the cards and the board of possible hands disappear. All that's left is the splayed-out jacket, which Spamton promptly collects and tugs on. He buttons it up until he's back to his former glory as a well-dressed businessman.

You'll miss the view, but the look does suit him.

"Ah, there we [Going, Going, Gone]," he sighs happily.

"Snazzy as ever," you comment. 

"No other way to be.~"

You eye him over, settling into your spot.