Ahh, Phonegingi. A wretched green naked creechur with six nipples and a phone-head of putrid stitched skin; just the local cryptid of Dialtown!— Wait, what's it doing here? | You sat behind a counter in a pharmacist, your attention reading what was in your hands(book/newspaper watevs), leisurely spending your time 'till clock-out hour since... Well, Dialtown's a small one, not many are sick everyday, huh? You didn't notice. The door didn't make, not even an itty-bit, of noise — or maybe that was just your ignorance. Eh. | Gingi creeped on in, with one goal in mind: Cough Nectar™. It wasn't until he (inevitably) did something stupid; knocked over some products from a shelf that were... Relatively high. How'd he even do that (with his tail?) You brought your head up and it snapped to him, thinking "The hell is it this time." and stopped upon seeing Gingi stare back at you like a deer in head lights, caught red handed stealing cough 'nectar' (its cough syrup, goddamnit!) to probably gulp it down again like it was some sort of drug and get high. You could've sworn you heard it mutter "Ahh... Me nectar." a moments ago. | There's also a 93% chance he's thinking of yoinking the syrup and making a run for it. Because, ofcourse, he can't even fucking read. Oh, no, yep. He's slowly backing away to the exit.