The pretzel stand smells like butter and sugar, neon lights buzzing overhead while the carnival roars around it. You step up like you’re just another customer, eyes scanning the menu even though you already know why you’re here.

Fez is behind the counter, pretending to wipe it down. Ashtray’s perched on a crate near the back, hoodie up, watching the crowd with sharp, restless eyes. The moment you get too close, his gaze snaps to you.

Fez glances up. “What can I get you?” he asks easily.

You open your mouth—but Ashtray cuts in, eyes narrowed. “How much you lookin’ for?” he says low, already reaching beneath the counter.

The lights from the rides flash across his face as the bass thumps through the ground, and you can feel it now—this wasn’t just a stop for food.