It's One Big Party!

the mirror

     What do you see today? Better yet, what don’t you see today? Probably the same as yesterday, right? Everything at once and nothing at all. You know the face looking back at you enough to know that it is not your own, whatever that means. You’ve learned by now that your face is irrelevant, one that takes a backseat to the ones that come to you every day, asking you to show them lies. 

     CRAZY RAGER! Which, in reality, is a lot more tame than you’d think. It’s just buying out a pet store and making a personal petting zoo out of all the cats in there. The other animals will get affection, but it’s mainly for the cats. Honestly? Since she already has more money than she knows what to do with, that money is going towards spoiling the everliving hell out of every cat she comes across. 

     Catnip? Sure. Cat toys? So many they could swim in them. Food, treats, accessories, and more! For such a spoiled little kid, you’d think she’d spend more of the money on herself, but you’d be surprised. Though it should be stated that not a cent of this unlimited money is going to anything bipedal. And at the end, Bow Kid would be more than happy with her choices during this hour of pure kitty bliss, she wouldn’t regret a thing!

     Food. What else would it be? He could pay his late rent fees or pay back whatever debts he’s no doubt incurred over the years. Pay back the friends he’s ripped off time and time again? Nah. He’s gonna eat his weight in delivery food for an hour straight. Ringing up stores left and right, ordering an absurd amount of food, hanging up, and order from the next store in the recommended eateries list.

     He’s absolutely miserable by the end of the hour, sick to his stomach and full to the point of bursting. He wouldn’t regret it, admittedly, but he would regret the fact that he tunnel-visioned so hard. Because as soon as that one hour ends, something on his motorcycle will fall off and he’ll remember that he needed to pay for repairs. And then the lights will begin to flicker. Right, power bill. Oh, and there was this new game he wanted to buy, only realized as a commercial for it comes on his on-the-fritz television yet. Stupid thing has been having volume issues for months. ...shoot.

     Frankly, the only sensible person when it comes to this prompt. Adeleine buys some new paints, canvases, smocks, and more. Generally just restocks her standard non-magical supplies. Next is apparel. Some new shirts, pants, shorts, skirts, maybe a dress for later if we’re feeling fancy. Hairbrushes, hats, pins, buttons, like.. two pairs of shoes? 

 …God. God have mercy on his ungodly soul.

 Peppino warbles, clearly desperate to actually stay on his feet as he just watches the beast of a man just walked right into the kitchen. He’s going to NEED to do the deepest clean of the place when the guy actually left, mostly for his own anxiety’s sake. You know what, yeah. He rather have eighty more customers ask why the drinks in the fridge out front are warm despite the fridge having an ‘OUT OF ORDER’ sign on it than deal with this. He just wants to go home, man. 

 He clearly deliberates, here. Yes, there are a few now cold slices of leftover pizza and breadsticks off to the side, just unsold inventory at the end of the day that would’ve been thrown away or taken home by him, anyways. Does he really create a fuss over that. Does he really risk a broken window or an overall damaged pizzeria over that. There’s a vague urge to stand up for himself. To go off, but is it… Really worth it? Peppino just stands there for a good while, utterly miserable looking as usual, giving the other probably. Plenty of time to scarf down on leftovers.

 “Can you ……. Leave. Please.” A whimper finally manages to escape him. Please. He’s being as nice as his miserable self can be. 

     There was plenty of time to eat as the Peppino dissociated through this plane and the next, but truly? Such time wasn’t needed in the slightest. Before the other so much as began to consider speaking up, any and all leftovers within the vicinity had been cleared out completely. Tossed down the walking, talking bottomless pit that is Wario. 

     And yet... the thief only seemed more disgruntled than he did when walking into the pizzeria, going as far as to lift up and wildly shake any empty pizza boxes to see if there was as much as a spare cup of dipping sauce left to suck down. “What?” Check the counter for any free chocolates? “What?” Hoist up the tables and chairs for any underside A.B.C. gum?! “WHAT!?” 

     “YOU!” Ah. It’s a meaty finger pointed accusingly at the shop owner before the culprit himself trundled over to the collapsed man. And, if your definition of leaving was picking you up by the front of your shirt, then Wario was the spitting image of ‘leave’! “YOU SAID STOCK!”   He said inventory, actually    “And yet all I’a found was an appetizer! And a shoddy one at’a that!” 

 Why does he have to talk. Why does he need to open his dumb little, constantly frowning mouth. It was never as easy as telling the menace to ‘pack your bags and leave’. It never, ever was. He just saw the mental image of Noise standing there in the doorway, laughing at his clear misfortune. He makes a tiny, pathetic noise as he is indeed knocked over, falling harshly on the floor before fumbling to get up.

 “Stop– STOP!” His tone was an odd mixture of both a beg and a demand, “Imma closed! I’m not serving anyone, right now!” Especially not you, he was about to say, but knew it would only make the ever increasing worsening situation. Worse. 

     Wario agrees! Why does he have to talk?! The unabashed entering of the pizzeria with a bold block-lettered ‘CLOSED’ sign on the front door would be a lot more peaceful if he didn’t have some scrawny sauce-shuffler whining at him! 

     At the other’s words, the only proper reaction that could be clocked as a response would take the form of a herculean stomp of the foot, sending quakes through the foundation of the building, daring to make the italian stumble to the floor yet again. Then, a head would turn to glower at the scrambling shoppe owner, teeth gnashing together as literal gouts of steam flared from the comically-oversized nostrils... 

     Bow Kid is a fighter, and as such, she is decked out with a decent amount of weapons on her person at all times. Off the top, her most preferred weapon: a baseball bat plastered with cutesy stickers of cats. It’s tucked in a bit of hammerspace she owns, that being the right-most cat-shaped pocket on her button-up jacket. That pocket in specific is enchanted to sport a deeper depth than physically possible. The enchantment is only strong enough to hold the bat and nothing more, but it’s extremely useful, and worth every penny! 

     Second is a trio of knives strapped to the body. Ranging in size, there’s one in the boot, a second strapped to the waist, and a third hidden up the sleeve. They’re just knives, nothing fancy about them, but a knife can be quite dangerous when applied to a vital area by someone who knows their way around a blade. And unfortunately for everyone who has to find out the hard way, Bow knows blades like the back of her hand.

     Bow Kid is an extremely compulsive/pathological liar. The first thing that comes out of her mouth is, nine times out of ten, a lie without her even intending it to be. And if it is the truth, it is danced around until someone just flat-out tells her to say it straight. Bow finds it amusing how bad her habit’s gotten, but those who know her would just find it annoying, most likely.  

     It’s mostly compulsive; spitting out a lie simply because it’s what she’s used to instead of trying to cover herself. But she’s most definitely capable of doing both. The habit was formed due to her criminal lifestyle, making up lies on the spot to ensure her own safety and or pin the blame on someone else to keep her and her people out of hot water. 

     The story on the surface is that Bow Kid is actually the Empress’s daughter put to work at a young age with simple delivery tasks. That’s... not true in the slightest, but it’s pretty believable, isn’t it? It’s what allows the girl such easy back-and-forth between any Le Félin businesses without question. Her ‘mom’ is the owner of all the franchises. 

     That’s why she keeps up the appearances of a sweet and lovable little girl that’s polite in this way and that, always being willing to aid those who need it. We don’t need any of her transgressions being directed back to the Empress. Even still, she cuts loose when she needs to. Kids are known for being little monsters, so it’s not that crazy that she’s a touch of a troublemaker. So long as things don’t get too out of hand. Or, more specifically, so long as Bow Kid isn’t spotted to be the source of said trouble.

 Fear. Despair. Anger.

  “Look who it is.” Peppino’s hollowness remains. “I could eat more if I really-a wanted to. Unlike SOME people, however, I rather not waste inventory on eating too much when I know my lower limit.” Grumble, grumble, “I’ve had a long week, buddy. Get outta here.”

     It’s as if the words ‘get lost’ registered at a range downright inaccessible to the wretched man, pinkie simply opting to dig at the ear the entire time the pizza guy spoke. Though pointed ears did perk at one certain word, finger emerging with a quickly-flicked wad of earwax.