Delay the Inevitable (DELTARUNE)

Chapter 5: Contamination Detected

In a bewildered state, Sample puts the vial of whatever-it-is in an inside pocket of his bolero, just behind that little crystal of near-transparent material pinned to the front.  He makes a mental note to investigate the bottle later…  It better have an ingredients label, although he isn't holding out hope for this being in any way, shape, form, or code ‘legal’ in any sense of the word.

At the very least, Spamton seems to be in a better mood after Sample bought something, humming a distorted tune through his disconcertingly wide grin as he sifts through the cash register…  Sample is about 99% sure that the wad of money the other put in the register is the only money in there when he peeps over the counter to watch - there's nothing that could indicate there's much more in the machine, anyway.

“...YOU'R [-it's a shooting star!]ING,” Spamton comments after a few beats of silence, feeling Sample looking between him and the cash register, unable to stop feeling uncomfortable by just how much the Blue Addison just… stares at him.  The other blinks and averts his eyes, instead looking around the inside of the store again.  Privately he wishes that he would get bored of whatever act he's trying to pull and leave .  Permanently , preferably.  But as long as he's even entertaining the thought of leaving the contents of his wallet here, well, who was Spamton to complain?

And then there was also the fact that the Blue had said he was in trouble and hiding out here…  In a way, that puts them in the same boat, just with Spamton's being far more complicated.  If he's even telling the truth, that is.  He has to be lying in some way.  Setting aside the dignity of any other sane salesman for the sake of attempting…  something.  Anything at all.  He doesn't know what, but there has to be something that he plans on accomplishing with Spamton.  They both know those stares aren't just normal gawking at Spamton's…  everything, although it certainly isn't a small minority of his thoughts.  The greasy black hair with shining spots where motor oil is getting hit by light.  The casing covering his teeth scraped and peeled upwards years ago, making his jaws appear so much wider and taller than they used to. Among other features, but those are among the most glaringly obvious characteristics.

Either way…  it's not as if he could judge someone else for having no place to go, could he?  It's not as if he can judge for keeping things hidden.

“S 0…” Spamton begins, tapping buttons on the register at random, but whatever he wants to say just… doesn't come to him.  Sample tilts his head at the latter, confused as to why he stopped, but what exactly CAN he say here?  The uncomfortable and tense atmosphere could be sliced with a cursor if someone tried.  Obviously, the Blue isn't going to give him the whole truth about anything he actually wants to ask the man…

“IS THE [[ Error404: Not Found ]] SHO3 A HOT H o T NEW TREND OR??” He says, changing course and angling his head down at Sample's bare foot, “IF U NEED 1 I CAN SAY THAT YULE N EVER EVER FIND THE BEST [-deals, deals, and more enticing deals!] ON THE LATEST TRENDS!!!  U ALL CHANGE STYLES EVRY 5 MINUTES [-each and every way!]!!”  He grins widely as he yanks up a box of various shoes from under the counter - some are Addison-grade heels and flats, some are Swatchling dress shoes, and there are sneakers and sandals and boots.  He promptly shoves it over the counter to Sample, just barely missing toppling it over the edge.

“Er…” Sample begins, debating whether or not he wants to gamble with wearing unknown shoes, “I'm not sure if that would really be such a < -fabulous, tremendous, prodigious, and mind-blowing offer beyond your wildest dreams !> ide-”