Steven's been accused of being fake before, all cheerful facades and smiles that don't quite reach his eyes. He's always taken offense to those sorts of comments-- he's plenty genuine, thank you very much!-- but that doesn't mean they're not accurate insults.
The comments have come more frequently lately, though, always out of concern. "You okay, there, Mr. Bell?" "Do you need a break, sir?" "Christ, kid, you look like you haven't slept in days!"
He's done his best to brush them off, giving halfhearted reassurances before burying himself in his work. What else can he do? No one would believe him if he tried to explain. Sometimes he doesn't even believe himself; it's easier to think he's gone insane than acknowledge what he's been through.
But it's hard to sweep recent events under the rug and pretend everything's fine when he looks up during the lunch rush one day to see her standing there again. He feels like he might faint, or maybe just vomit all over the floor like that kid last week who drank three cups of soda in the span of ten minutes. She usually shows up during closing, or on the rare occasion that Steve covers night shift. But she's clearly grown bored of tormenting him one-on-one; now she's here to hurt an entire restaurant full of innocent people.
He meets her gaze from across the room, tears immediately starting to gather in the corners of his eyes. He has to do something. There are children here, and despite Freddy's reputation, Steven doesn't want to be directly responsible for their deaths.
"Hey, wow! There you are, Contrary!" he says shakily, striding over to her to grab her by the arm. "What a-- what a surprise! How about we head outside to talk, I can barely hear myself think in here!"
Cue canned laughter. Please, please let him do this.
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