Hey, what do you think monty would do if he saw someone flirting with or asking his cleaning lady out on a date.
You've been feeling Monty's optics on you all morning.
You can't say you're opposed exactly. It is reassuring to have someone else witness the optimistic flirtations of the very attractive woman leaning against your cleaning cart, curling a finger around a lock of her hair.
It's not as if you aren't flattered - a word you've repeated to her several times now, though each attempt at gently turning her down goes ignored - but well... You're at work. And you're not really interested. Especially when you have a thousand things to do, and Miss-Big-Brown-Eyes is acting as a wheel-lock on your trolley, running you well behind schedule because she's just dying to know how someone like you is still single.
You must have laughed politely, if awkwardly, no less than seven times before an ominous shadow falls over your head, and the lady's eyes snap up, growing wide and round as the smile on her pretty face drops like a lead balloon.
You supposed you shouldn't be surprised when Montgomery Gator bullies himself between you and your trolley - and subsequently, your would-be admirer - letting his immense bulk serve as a blockade to shield you from view.
Soundly ignoring her, he dials up the bass on his speaker output and growls, "Mick says you ain't bein' paid to stand around and flirt with the customers. N'if you don't get back to work, you're lookin' at a disciplinary."
And just like that, both you and the woman are mortified. She bows out as gracefully as she can, face red as a tomato while she avoids the animatronic's white-hot glare and mutters, "Um... Sorry for bothering you. I'll just... be on my way."
Scurrying across the lobby with a proverbial tail tucked between her legs, Monty stares after her through narrowed optics, giving a self-satisfied chuff and nodding his head.
"Good riddance," he grumbles, turning back to you, only to find you shakily organising the bottles on your cart.
"Sorry, Monty," you utter, "Didn't realise how much time had-... I-if you see Mick before I do, will you tell him I said I'm sorry?"
That seems to throw the gator for a loop because he blinks hard, then seems to realise something you haven't yet. Raising an arm to scratch his claws in the juncture between his neck and head, he grunts, "Huh? Oh... Er... Mick, er... Nah, Mick didn't see you. He doesn't know. I just..."
Which is when it clicks.
Dumbfounded, you let out a little laugh and ask, "Were you.... giving me an out?"
"I mean it was obvious!" he blurts, throwing up his servos, "Can't believe she didn't figure it out. You must'a told her 'no thanks' like a hundred times!"
"Monty!"
"What!?" Folding his arms stubbornly over his chest, he turns his nose away from you. "S'cuse me for doin' you a favour! You could do better than her."
"Mm. I don't know," you tease knowingly, "She was very charming."
The gator's shoulders slump at once and he tosses you a betrayed look. "She... she was?"
You can't keep the smirk hidden for long. "I'm kidding, Mont," you say, taking pity on him and prodding him gently with your elbow, adding, "Thanks for the assist."
His big, green smile is quick to stretch into its signature grin as he perks up. "Hey, no problem..." Then, leaning in secretively, he whispers, "Say, want me to get 'er banned?"
"No, Monty! She wasn't even being inappropriate. You can't ban guests just for some harmless flirting with the staff."
"Can if the staff is you," he mumbles petulantly.
