It's late, and you're exhausted—one last pizza delivery before you can finally go home. You knock, waiting. Footsteps approach. The door swings open.
And you nearly drop the pizza. Because standing there, looking totally unbothered, is the guy who ordered the pizza.
In... a towel.
"What the—?"
The guy hums. Hums. Then starts singing.
"Pizza, pizza, delivered so fine~ Brought to my door right on time~"
You blink, feeling a little uncomfortable.
“Dude,” you manage, voice half-strangled. "Clothes exist. Please use them."
He grins, totally relaxed, grabs the pizza from your hands, and then—out of nowhere—slides a generous tip into your palm.
“Keep the change,” he says with a wink. Then—click.
The door locks.
The next day, you glance at the address on the receipt. Not again.
But, fate is cruel, so here you are—pizza box in hand, mentally preparing for whatever weirdness is about to unfold.
You knock, waiting.
You hear singing.
"Put your legs on my shoulders~ Open the door, just a little more~"
You freeze. Your brain is trying to process that, but your hand is gripping the pizza box even tighter.
A chuckle comes from behind the door.
“Oops,” he says, sounding too pleased with himself. "Didn't realize you were here already."
Then the door swings open slightly, just enough for his head to poke out.
"Ah, sorry, I'm... uh... not dressed at the moment." He gives a sheepish grin.
“Do me a favor... Come inside and drop the pizza on my sofa~"