Fictober 2024

Oddities

Universe: Dusttale

MC: Grillby

Genre: Angst

Warnings:
-OOC
-Barely edited
-Vague mentions of character death

A/N:

Today's piece is honestly a bit rushed because I'm fairly tired today, and I know if I don't write it in one go I won't at all due to that. It sucks, cus I had a bit more dialogue planned.

Honestly, Grillby is hard to write without a few headcannons, so excuse me for that! I also actually don't know a lot about his regulars and had to check the wiki for them.
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Something is off.

It had started as a bit of anxiety at the start of his day, something abnormal in and of itself for the level-headed fire elemental, but it got worse as the day progressed and more unusual things continued to happen.

The jukebox refused to work no matter what sometime around noon. He nearly dropped one of his glasses while cleaning them during a lull in traffic. It hit a head when he burned one of his customers' orders, something he compensated them for with a complimentary but ethically obligatory apology.

He never burns orders. Or rather, he hasn't for a good century now. He's far too skilled for that.

Then, there's his customers. Drunk Bun seems to down drinks even faster than she usually does. Big Mouth and Red Bird only tried to translate his meaning once when they first arrived but have stayed quiet since then. Doggo seems even more suspicious and paranoid than usual, and for once, the rest of the canine unit seems just as paranoid as him. The atmosphere is suffocating, the usual warm, homey, feel all but gone.

The canine unit does not stay for long, murmuring about patrols with guarded voices. Punk Hamster complained about the jukebox not working and went away to get something to fix it or hopefully find a replacement because 'damned thing never worked properly anyway!'. Red bird jumps at the chance to aid him, eager to move, excusing her excess energy to her extra espresso.

None of them are back. It's been three hours.

Perhaps most concerning of all is the fact that he hasn't seen Sans today at all. Most of his regulars usually come by every other day, but Sans's visit is a daily occurrence. It doesn't matter if it's only for a few minutes before his brother comes bursting in, Sans always visits.

Grillby is... concerned, to say the least.

The bar empties gradually. No more customers arrive. There are only two monsters left, Drunk Bun lingering in the slumped position she got into when Grillby refused her any more drinks, waiting till it's time to close and Grillby kicks her out presumably, and a snake monster practically buried in warm fabric visiting from the capital who doesn't seem to want to go and be alone in his room at the inn just yet.

Grillby just idly cleans his dirty shot glasses, waiting for time to pass and needing to keep himself occupied.

Maybe he should close early? It would be a bit unfair to his current customers, but Drunk Bun hasn't ordered anything for half an hour, and the snake monster has only really been ordering tap water for an hour now.

Three glasses left. He'll decide when he's done.

Two left.

One.

The door opens.

Sans steps in, hands in his pockets, and his hood up for once. Instead of being relieved, Grillby's long forgotten instincts scream at him to be on guard. He pauses for a split second before continuing his cleaning, subtly scanning the skeleton.