"So, uh," Robbie said, still in his Ghost Rider form as he held up the carbonized bag of what had once been bacon cheeseburgers, "there was an...accident with your food and I'm, uh, please don't one-star rate me. I really need this job." He would've looked sheepish, were his face not a flaming skull incapable of displaying emotion.

Robbie hadn't even made it halfway to the customer's house from the burger joint before the flames had enveloped him, his uncle's spirit taking over and sending the car and food up in a blaze. Robbie hadn't intended to, hadn't meant to use his powers, hadn't wanted to scare the heck out of his customers. He'd been working as a delivery driver for weeks now, and the only reason he hadn't been sacked yet was the fact the Hell Charger was really fast, so most days he could make it before food-to-charcoal conversion happened. Not today, though.

"I can..." he ventured, trying to think of something. "I can get you more food in, like, five minutes, tops. Promise. You want fries? A milkshake? Please. Just don't leave a bad review."

As he watched the customer stare wide-eyed at him, Robbie was hit with the realization he was still in flaming-skeleton-guy-with-chains mode and not actual-ordinary-person-one-would-expect-to-be-working-this-job-for-extra-money mode.

"Oh. Hi, I'm Ghost Rider. Nice to meet you. No, wait, that sounded sarcastic. I, um." He swallowed. "Okay, this isn't gonna happen again. I mean, not that this happens a lot. This definitely doesn't happen a lot. And I'm, like, super normal, I promise."