𝐇𝐀𝐋𝐂𝐘𝐎𝐍 ; MCYT

[ milkshakes - nihachu ]

MILKSHAKES ; nihachu

REQUESTED? no. 

WARNINGS ; cursing, a fun amount of cursing.

There's the scent of burgers and fries wafting around the walls of vivid colours and neon lights, the checkered floor is littered with wrappers and other trash that customers are too forgetful to pick-up and discard themselves, the songs of Queen lull you into a fantasy of where you stand on the stage and the lights blare with life and the audience cheers for you. Unfortunately, that's all your imagination and you're pulled back into reality when the jukebox gets switched to heavy death metal. 

You groan, tying the laces of your rollerblades to assure your safety of not plummeting onto the dirty ground, you begin to roll over to the jukebox and you're not surprised when you see familiar curls of ebony tucked beneath a beanie frantically press buttons on the music-maker. They throw a glance over at your figure, your arms crossed as their button-pressing slows. They give you a finger gun and you sigh, with one button press the orchestrina is back to what it once was. 

"What were you doing again, Quackity?" You queried, a brow arched judgementally at him. 

Quackity nervously chuckles but he rolls his eyes at you, gently hitting the jukebox, "I'm sorry that I don't know how to use a jukebox," He complains, raising his pitch somewhat higher than it usually is. 

Your eyes slant with disapproval, why not give a demonstration of how to properly use one so you could indirectly tell him how stupid he was? Yeah, that seems rather accurate. You pull out a coin from your apron's pocket, inserting the metal into the slot as the machine processes it. The music fades out, dropping silent as the guitar riffs are replaced with the chatter of customers. You press buttons that string together your song of choice and soon enough, it starts filling the atmosphere. 

Quackity stands there, his embarrassment evident. He scratches his neck, clicking the heels of his rollerblades against each other, seemingly trying to come up with a good defence of why he accidentally fucked up the music box. You chuckle, leaning against the machine with a brow raised as you await his answer. This ought to be good. 

"Oh," Was all that left his lips, you snickered at him. 

"Oh," You mocked.

You gently nudge Quackity in his gut, he grunts lightly and you both chuckle. Your eyes gleam over the restaurant, Quackity's presence is oddly nice while the two of you lounge around the orchestrina. Nevertheless, your eyes dart over to the jingle of bells when the door opens and you see a new group of customers look around for an empty table. You nudge Quackity again, smiling at him. 

"Duty calls, Q," You chime, spinning around and rollerblading back over to the counter. His sigh gets caught in the wind and you giggle while you remove the gate that divides the dining area and the kitchen. 

You rest your chin on your palm, leaning on the counter leisurely as the cool midnight breeze drifts into the restaurant. Your eyes graze over the customers, families trying to have a good meal together, couples doing all their romantic shenanigans and teenagers causing mischief while they play around with their food to humour their friends. Your attention is diverted over to the figure approaching you through your peripheral. You turn their heads towards them and the figure gives you a small notepad clasped in their hand.

"Nikki? What's going on?" You ask her, resting your elbows as you face the opposite direction of the counter and peer into the franticness in the kitchen.