On a dark and stormy night, upon the hour where all clocks stand to their firmest of attention, only then will it appear. And upon its arrival, it is then that you should begin to count your misfortunes and pray you live to see a better day.
…Boy, tonight really did paint itself out to be a dramatic scene, didn’t it? The child had seen snippets of movies and other forms of media where right now would be where some truly frightening activities would be happening. Some mysterious and seemingly sourceless taps to the pizzeria’s windows, an unexplainable chill that stroked the spinal column of your back, and the sudden appearance of an entity most threatening in appearance.
Well, the final cliché was sort of lived up to, but that was the only one, frankly. Chara had been called visually upsetting on multiple occasions. Their wave hello and large smile? It would’ve been completely commonplace if not for the ruby-red eyes they supported. No hostile acts were taken, no suspicious activity to report. Just a lonesome child entering the eatery at the stroke of midnight.
..Hm. When you say it out loud
Steps would hit lightly against the pizzeria’s flooring, steady approach heralded with… not a word muttered. To the man’s calm, casual ask, nothing but the sound of gentle footfalls would echo outward. Hardly a response, though it was the best the store’s owner was going to get. But it was not as if the child was disinterested, far from it.
Those crimson red eyes? It didn’t take a perceptive individual to see how tightly they held their gaze onto the man at their front. And as a body short and small reached the ordering counter, it was then and only then that eyes would break, as the desk physically forced it. Height placed the child beneath a visible line of sight, disappearing from view for a moment.
And their return would be trumpeted by the jingle of coins, a brown and dusty drawstring pouch being set upon the counter. Inside could gold coins be seen. Then, as hands draw back, they’re quick to grab the lip of the counter, nails digging in as leverage is gained, head springing from below to finally greet their target.
“I would like one pizza, please!” they grinned, “What is your preferred form of currency, if I might ask?” Ah a head would vanish below once more, not waiting for an answer before doing so. And just like that, a scratched black purse now resting next to the previously produced pouch. Simple dollar bills rested inside. Then, a colorful, if not a little damp, backpack- quarters, nickels, and dimes rolled from an unzipped pocket. A mud-splattered satchel bag- gemstones of rubies and sapphires spilled across the counter. A quilted, red-speckled handbag- jewelry: necklaces, rings, even a few credit cards.
Finally, a head would return once more from below the counter, red eyes waiting expectantly for some sort of answer, a smile unchanged from the moment its carrier had strolled in.
Grey eyes full of the utter depression of someone who had very much been accustomed to the horrors of customer service and crashing towers remained on the other, trying to find some form of intent. A smirk, a smile full of shark-like teeth waiting to bite him and spit insults at him. Noise’s disguises were terrifyingly good, and his internal anxiety and feeling that something was off could only be attributed to that, he thought to himself.
His attention had snapped to the pouch full of coins. While it was not currency he was used to, it was something he had seen in passing, especially since his variety in customers had varied. He’d take taking five gold coins, not truly knowing their worth, than fifty pennies any day, to be brutally honest. Before he could even open his constantly frowning mouth and say something, he just quietly gawked at the items that were presented to him in such a manner that it took him a solid moment to process it.
Okay. If this genuinely wasn’t Noise, this was either some weird kid who had rich parents, or... He can’t help but eye those credit cards for a moment. The chef could maybe tolerate the idea of someone just having gems and coins in their pockets, but there’s an air of unease to this whole situation outside of even the Noise concept. Peppino wanted to ask something along the lines of ‘wh... where did you get all of this’, but his gut told him to just shut up. This was technically still a customer willing to give you money for a product, just get their order done and wait for them to leave.
“...I’m fine with just cash, d-don’t worry about it.” His internal mindset of just getting this over and done with finally gave him some ‘courage’ to reply back, “What kind of pizza would you like? It’s been slow today, so I’ll make sure itsa fresh.”
Peppino didn’t make any attempt to mirror the others smile. Even a forced one, for that matter. Many customers had made complaints about the ‘main guy clearly not being happy’ no matter how hard he tried, so. Especially given this situation, he’s not going to bother.
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