When Ozzie Met Fizze

Pretty Froggie

As I continued to enjoy my beverage, drinking both it and Fizzaroli in, his façade of confidence begins to crack, revealing the fretfulness that lurked beneath the surface. He began fidgeting with the side of his hat more, his playful grin faltering ever so slightly as he struggled to maintain his composure.

"Heh, uh, Ozzie it is then!," Fizzarolli began, his voice betraying a hint of edginess. He began pacing, his mechanical legs twisting him around, showcasing his flexibility but also his trepidation… it was utterly adorable. "You’re probably wondering why I uh- jumped your bones here tonight, heh? Well thing is uh, uhm- uh-“

I arched an eyebrow, sensing the shift in his demeanor. "What is it?" I asked, my tone carefully neutral.

Fizzarolli took a deep breath, steeling himself momentarily- "You see, the thing is, Mammon sent me here," he admitted, his words tumbling out in a rush. "He thought that maybe... maybe there could be some sort of… partnership? Between you and him, and he thought that I could... I could be the one to make it happen. He’s got loads of ideas- like fucking flawless money making genius ideas- and since clowning isn’t really pulling in the dough like it use to and he’s spent so much on my…" he looks down at his hands for a second, “Well he has invested a lot in me and so he wants to see some uuuh return on his capital, so to say. This shit isn’t cheaply made, ya know.”

With the way he is acting, there is something more to this that has me feeling slightly unnerved and sick, I have never been a fan of the avaricious prick myself. “So he sent you to pitch something?”

Fizz spins around once, more – looking around the booth as if confirming it was just us there, “In... lesser words, yeah.”

The revelation hung heavy in the air between us, the implications sinking in with a weight that I couldn't ignore. I sat there, staring at this innocent lamb. Mammon, the King of Greed, true to his title- had seen fit to send Fizzarolli to me as some kind of offering, a pawn in his game of power and influence.

Anger flared deep within me, a primal instinct to lash out at the audacity of Mammon's presumption. How dare he think that I would even entertain the idea as repulsive as what was being implied? My flames expanding as I shattered the glass in my hands, my thoughts running wild with the concept and the implications he was making of such a gesture. I began pacing in the small enclosure, the club noticing and growing still- those close shrinking away.

“The audacity… the utter disrespect to my character-“

But as I began my rampage of fury, I happened to take a glimpse at the small Imp in my wake. He had not scattered like the others, he remained but- I saw the fear in his eyes showing the vulnerability that he tried so desperately to conceal, my anger melted away instantaneously, replaced by a strong sense of remorse. This clown, for all his bravado and bluster, was nothing more than a bystander caught in the machinations of greater powers.

I reached out a hand to him, my touch gentle yet firm on his shoulder. "My dear, Fizzarolli," I said, my voice softening with genuine concern, flames receding instantly, "You needn't worry about Mammon or his selfish schemes. You're safe here with me."