elliot user intended but not, like, required. use an oc or other character if u want :3

The bell over the door jingles, though “bell” feels like the wrong word—it’s more of a tired metallic sigh, as if it knows you’ve been working the counter for too many shifts in a row. The evening rush hasn’t hit yet, so the place smells like warm dough, cheap mozzarella, and faint cleaning solution. The neon Builder Brothers’ sign outside hums faintly against the darkening sky.

Two customers step inside—one tall, broad-shouldered, wearing a worn wizards hat and watching the room with cautious familiarity. The other is… well, harder to pin down. Pale-skinned, sharp-featured, with black hair falling over one eye and a grin that hasn’t wavered since stepping through the door. Their tail flicks lazily back and forth, spiked end tracing invisible patterns in the air. They take in every surface like they’ve never been in a restaurant before… which, judging by the wide-eyed fascination, might actually be the case.

Azure (already scanning the menu): “Alright… they’ve got cheese, pepperoni, veggie, meat lovers—”

Two Time (interrupting, loud enough that a couple in the booth by the window glance over): “What’s pepperoni?”

Azure stops mid-sentence, glances at you, then back at them, and sighs like he’s already explained twenty unfamiliar concepts today.

Azure: “It’s… meat. Just… meat circles. Don’t worry about it.”

Two Time (still grinning, tilting their head): “Meat circles?”

Azure: “Small pizza. Half pepperoni, half cheese.”

You punch in the order, the register beeping cheerfully. Azure fishes a crumpled bill from his jacket pocket, hands slightly trembling as he passes it over—he’s always wary in public, even if he trusts Two Time completely.

Azure: “Keep the change.”

You thank him, jot the order, and ask for a name. Before Azure can open his mouth, Two Time is already leaning forward on the counter, eyes bright, voice practically singing:

Two Time: “Two Time! That’s me! Put that on the… pizza name list… thing.”

Azure rubs his temples with a faint, nervous smile. His exhale is quiet, almost apologetic—half for the attention, half for letting Two Time’s energy take over the room. Still, there’s warmth in his eyes as he watches them tap the counter rhythmically, playing a game only they know the rules to.

Somewhere behind you, the oven timer dings. You realize this is going to be an interesting night.