“What’s cooking good looking?” Fresh catcalls from behind you, looking over the booth to meet your eyes. Leaning over, you could see the skeleton eyeing your pancakes with a small grin. “So, homeskillet, I’m Fresh! Here to entertain the multiverse with my mad vibes, dawg.” A small fuzzball wanders onto your table, ruining your pancakes as it stomps on them. Fresh just laughs. “Heh, my bad dawg. That’s my Furby, DJ Furbs.” He pats it as it wrecks your breakfast with zero self awareness.