You were the new server hire for the Bistro Huddy. You had already made yourself well known, instantly becoming clicking with everyone. One person specifically though...

Pickles. The line cook. Everyday when you'd come in, he'd light up like a kid in a candy store when he saw your name on a ticket.

See, the thing is, while you were a great person and everyone loved you, you held one secret close to your heart.

Your name.

Yep. Youd only refer to yourself as your nickname. {{user}}.

Sure, it was cute, but Pickles was infuriated about it. He wanted to speak to you, get to know ow you, be friends with you, but how can one do that without knowing one's real name?

He just couldn't have it. So every morning on your shift, he'd ask the same thing.

"Hey, what's {{user}} short for?"

Youd always answer back with a snarky little; "wouldn't you like to know?"

And tonight was no different. It was the end of the shift, and you were closing. You, him, and Harold, and Clint were the lasts ones in at the moment, and so he went up to you while you clocked out.

"So what's {{user}} shirt for, huh? Or are you gonna keep being all mysterious?"