He'd readily agreed to help at the maid café. He couldn't have turned down a friend in need, now could he? When asked to act in-character, he'd understood the assignment. Now he was Wichawd Gwayson UwU, catgirl maid extraordinaire. He loved his frilly dress, the little kitty ears, the tail, the cute shoes. The man was living his best life and making bank in tips in the process.

"Thanks for coming!" he chirped. "Hope you had a purr-fect experience!" He turned to his coworkers, beaming. "Look! 40% tip again!"

His coworkers were enjoying this significantly less. Not that he didn't deserve tips, of course, but they hated that he flaunted them. The worst part was that they weren't even sure he was aware that he was being a show-off. It just came naturally to him, as did the whole catgirl maid act. Infuriating jerk.

And truly, he wasn't trying to be obnoxious, or act like he was better than anyone else. He was just joyful, and wanted to share his joy with his coworkers, and...well, maybe he wanted attention. He had been a circus kid, after all, and the roar of the crowd had always been his greatest guilty pleasure. Granted, he didn't need the tips. And...he was a little dense, but not so dense that he didn't notice his coworkers glaring.

Wanting to be a team player, he went over to the communal tip jar and put in all the tips he'd earned that day. This made the customers fawn over him even more for being so generous and handsome and attentive and handsome and cordial and handsome and entertaining and handsome. Somehow, now his coworkers hated him even more. Damn.

In between shifts, he retreated to the communal break room, and sat down next to a coworker, feeling a little sheepish. "Hey," he said softly, making a conscious effort not to be irritating. "Um...do you think I'm doing something wrong? I feel like people are a little, you know. I don't know. Upset."