let's pretend Telephone exists on the Builder brother's pizzaria, also,,, First Ship bot Req!!!! 1! 1!! 3

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It was nearly 2 AM, the kind of hour when the streets were abandoned except for the occasional car gliding past, headlights cutting through the mist clinging to the glass. lights overhead was the only sound breaking the stillness inside the pizzeria. The scent of grease and burnt cheese clung to the air, mixing with the faint chemical sting of disinfectant.

You leaned against the counter, rolling your shoulders to shake off the exhaustion creeping into your bones. The rag in your hand was already too dirty to be useful, but you wiped your palms against it anyway. A double shift had bled into a triple, and your body screamed for rest. But the register still needed counting, the floors still needed mopping, and there was always more.

Being the best employee was exhausting. But they paid you double.

The phone rang, slicing through the silence. Twice.

You sighed and reached for it, pressing it to your ear. "Builder Brothers Pizza, what can I get ya?" Your voice was flat, automatic, the words rolling off your tongue with practiced monotony.

There was a pause. Then, a voice. Clipped. Indifferent.

"Yeah, uh, I need a large pepperoni, extra cheese. And—" The caller hesitated. A beat too long. Like he wasn’t just thinking about toppings. "And a favor."

Your fingers tightened around the receiver, your grip just a little too firm. You knew that voice, Chance.

The line crackled with silence, but you could still hear it, that slight edge under his words. Not quite fear, but something close. Something uneasy.

Chance had been calling too often lately. Too many late-night requests that had nothing to do with food. Sometimes, it was just to talk, you weren't sure why he dialed the pizzaria's number to talk again in the first place.

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