(Marx x Magolor) Date Night

An awful idea, really.

Marx sat there, waiting.

And waiting.

And waiting a little bit more for someone to arrive. He analyzed the suberb interior design, grasped the concept of the wooden chair, wiggled his feet, and felt like he was using too many fancy words. After convincing himself to go on a crusade later this evening, Kirby approached him, giggling. "Okay, meet your match!" He said, with a grin. He shuffled over to the side a bit, hitting a table and causing unnecessary stress to a waddle dee who was precariously balancing his water cup on a salt shaker. A chocolate colored alien with noble white and blue clothes floated before him, trying to float around Kirby, but ended up hitting a Waddle Doo in the shoulder that caused him to drink a bit too much beer. With additional giggling, Kirby said, "Alright, you two lovebirds have fun!~" He scuttled off, whispering loudly to a friend, "Yes! They're in!" The alien, giving a suspicious look in Kirby's direction, sat down. 

They stared at each other for a second. The lighting was moody, a candle was in front of them both, precariously close to some napkins. If only the restaurant wasn't playing some weird indie music, would the mood be perfect. 

"Now, how do you feel about anime thighs?" Marx said, completely casual. There was an uneasy silence. "You... You introduce yourself with that." "Yep."

Silence.

"That was, uh, quite the icebreaker." He added. "Well, I'm Magolor, and your name is?" "Marx." "Like the communis-" "No. I actually kinda like capitalism, really. Even though it brings out some bad qualities in people, like greed, it helps out both the rich and poor because of jobs... and... um... yeah." They looked at each other for a second. With red cheeks, Marx looked down at the table. "I've been practicing." 

A waitress floated to their table, trying not to get her cloak on the  surrounding tables. "Hiya, what can I getcha for drinks?" Magolor thought his eyes were going to pop out of his head. "Drawcia?!" Floating too close for comfort, she leaned in and growled, "Being a witch doesn't pay the bills." Going back to her usual charm, she waited for an answer. Marx piped up, "Can I have some milk?"

"I dunno, CAN you?"

Silence.

Holding back the hatred in his voice, he answered, "MAY I have some milk?" Holding back a chuckle, she replied, "No, 'cuz we don't have any." Using the last bits of politeness in him, he answered, "This is why your paycheck doesn't go over minimum wage." Furiously scribbling down 'toilet water', she drifted over to Magolor. Still wondering how to feel about that, he mumbled, "Err, water, please." A little too cheerfully, she answered, "I'll be back!" Giving a final glare at Marx before drifting away. "Well, that was a bit rude? A little bit?" Marx shrugged as much as he could without having any arms. "Atleast I didn't go full autistic on her." With kilograms  of hesitancy in his voice, Magolor asked, "What would be... full... autistic?" Standing on his chair, Marx wiped clean the record for the second loudest reeeeeeeeeee in Dreamland, coming in at a whopping 1,065,487 decibels.

 The whole restaurant stared at him like Satan had just arrived, and he was laughing like he had heard the funniest joke in the world. Magolor buried his face in his hands, thinking, "God, if you're there, please end me. Or him." After a quarter of a minute passed, there was only one thing left:

Silence.

"Alright, fellas, here's your drinks," Drawcia said, saving the restaurant from the awkwardness of pondering wether or not a certain someone should go to a mental hospital. She plopped down the clear cups on the table. There was a notable difference in colors, however. Marx looked questionably at the drink. "...Should water be slightly yellow?" "Yes," said Drawcia, saying it a bit too quickly. He looked at the water, and back at her. He looked at it, and back at her. "Do it. Do it. Do it." She chanted in a low whisper. Marx hesitantly lowered his tongue into the cup, the way a cat would drink out of a bowl. He instantly recoiled once he recognized the true form of the evil, impure water. Like a serious panel out of a manga, he growled,