fandomtownies | Demon Marcus, Sunday

Sparkle was kind of in a haze today, but it wasn't... a bad haze, probably? Yesterday a whole lot of Life had been dropped into his lap when he'd figured he'd be able to steal away another few days before facing it down, and that meant that he'd had to actually face some stuff.

Some ugly stuff. Some stuff that maybe he was already wondering if he could ignore by packing up and moving to Antarctica to become a penguin.

What he wasn't expecting when he came in to work today, then, was the weaponized cuteness that Hernando had seeded around the shop, mostly behind counters and in registers, places where random photos of kitties wouldn't catch the eye of paying customers unless Sparkle drew attention to them with a sudden, startled cackle or a high-pitched dolphin noise, or, in one noteworthy incident, a shout of "WHY IS CEILING CAT IN MY TOILET!?"

... Mission accomplished, Hernando. Warm fuzzies achieved.

Demon Marcus was open. And there was even a NOW HIRING sign in the window, because hey, you never knew with the new kids.

[OOC: Open!]

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Hey, was that two take-away pitchers of margarita (pitcher one) and... some unholy watermellon concoction in red and sparkles (pitcher two), just appearing on Sparkle's counter about half an hour before closing time, almost as if they had magically floated inside?

... Maybe.

And was that Sparkle, coming up from a rummage through some autumn stock to kind of blink at those two take-away pitchers in quiet bemusement for a moment?

... Most certainly.

And then he was squinting toward the door.

"But did you bring cups?!"

He'd absolutely just drink these straight from the pitcher. Nothing was out of bounds when it came to glittery, fruity drinks offered by mysterious magical forces.

Yeah, that solo cup zooming for Sparkle's hand was totally Atton showing off.

And it got a laugh out of Sparkle, at least. A real, actually present laugh as he called back, "That's more like it!"

He set the cup down and reached for the glittery monstrosity, because Sparkle's gonna Sparkle.

"And how about some company? Is that gonna fly into the room too?"

"I'm technically working!" Atton shouted.

He'd already parked his shoulder in the door, but still!

"You're delivering drinks," Sparkle called back. "That's totally working!"

See? Sparkle was already getting into the swing of looking for loopholes, at least!

"Well, I have to make more drinks," Atton argued. "Other people like drinks. That's why they pay me good money!"

These were on the house.

"Pffft, good money," Sparkle complained back. And then lifted the Solo cup of sparkly nightmares and grinned a little. "Well, I'm gonna congratulate you on a job well done here, because this is definitely gonna be a drink I'm gonna enjoy."

It was horrifying, Atton.

You knew Sparkle so well.

"Look, how about we compromise, and I'll be back here in half an hour to carry your drunk ass home," Atton said. Beat. "And it better be drunk when I get here, I worked very hard on that."

"Oh believe me, it will not just be my ass that is drunk," Sparkle promised, lifting his glass and giving Atton a lopsided grin. "There will be all of me. I might be buried in cat photos by then, too. Even odds."

There were so many cat photos. So many.

Ceiling Cat got to stay in the toilet, though.

"Trick of the island or did someone vomit those up on you?" Atton said, squinting.

"I think it's vomit," Sparkle mused. "The island doesn't usually use tape."

A beat.

"Hell, the island usually just uses real cats."

"Would it help if we got you real cats?" Atton said, pulling a face.

"I mean," Sparkle said, "I would never say no if people got me real cats. But then I would have to put all the real cats back after."

Or at least most of the real cats?

How many cats could Sparkle smuggle through the rest of his days with nobody noticing that he was keeping a dozen of them? Probably not a dozen, huh?

"You think they've got one of those, uh, what do you call it, cat cafés in Toronto?" Atton asked.

He was leaving!

... In a minute.

"... Ohmygod I don't know but you better believe I'm gonna google the shit out of that."

If there was one within distance of wherever they wound up setting up, Sparkle was basically going to be their best customer for the duration.

"Right, so we get you like, a million tickets to that," Atton said, because he had no idea how it worked. "Maybe you can borrow one."

"Some of them adopt cats out," Sparkle noted, smiling a wry little smile. "I promise I won't smuggle cats into the apartment, though."

Because he wasn't so certain 'cat rental for people awaiting trial' was a thing.

Long pause.

"Think you can teach a cat not to go on my stuff?"

Brief pause.

"I mean, that's what litterboxes are for." He smiled wryly. "I can leave the cat at the tea shop, though. Hernando and I were talking about maybe getting one eventually anyway."

Once they didn't have to worry about the island eating it.

Atton shrugged one shoulder. "We can talk about that later," he said. "Look, I really gotta get going..."

And stop admitting he was loosening up on the cat thing.

"Right," Sparkle replied. "Anyway, my glittery monstrosity drinks are getting warm and I'm supposed to be totally smashed in like an hour, right?"

"That's right. Eyes on the prize," Atton said, throwing him.

A finger gun, yes. Whatever.

And Sparkle threw some finger guns right back. With the hand not currently full of solo cup.

"Eyes on the prize," he agreed.

And then, after a moment.

"Thanks, man."

Between kitty pictures and surprise magical flying cocktails, he was feeling kinda loved right now.

"Eh, don't mention it," Atton said easily, and vanished out the door before things could get soppy again.

Demon Marcus, Sunday

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