Chapter Text
This was going to be an easy day.
The place he had been assigned to inspect was a run-down, dirty cafe. Its poor condition was somewhat surprising, given that the place had only been open for a year.
When Scarab entered, he was quickly greeted by an eager, friendly-looking barista, who shook his hand vigorously.
Scarab had the decency to wait until the man turned away to wipe off his fingers.
Overall, the job was about as straightforward as Scarab had expected. He’d seen two health code violations crawl out from a cabinet within the first few minutes of his inspection, and he was one hundred percent sure that the food in the display case had gone bad sometime within the past week.
He kept his clipboard out and meticulously documented everything he was told, but it was already clear that the business was not up to code.
When the inspection concluded, he pulled the owner aside and delivered his verdict.
“Your business has failed to meet the health requirements, on account of a vermin infestation, and repeated failure to monitor food products.
The owner’s eyes widened, and he began apologizing profusely, but Scarab shut him down immediately. He didn’t have time to listen to this. He had plans for the day.
“Sir, there’s no need for that. Your business will be closed down, and mandatory retraining will be required for your employees. Inspections will be conducted weekly, and your business will not be allowed to open until it passes with an A grade. Your current grade is…”
Scarab sifted through a stack of papers he had left on a table, finally pulling one out and handing it to the man.
“You’ve earned a C.”
Scarab could almost see the hope fade from the man’s eyes. He attempted to look understanding, but his expression was closer to disgust.
“You won’t see me here again. The tests will be given by another inspector.”
Scarab leaned in slightly closer to the man and lowered his voice so it was barely above a whisper.
“But if you want my advice, I believe it would be best to shut the place down early. It would save you the effort and the money.”
He turned around before the owner could say anything, collected his papers efficiently, and made for the door.
He wondered if his favorite bakery was still open. Perhaps he had time for a small treat before his trip to the museum at three.
As Scarab walked, he felt a buzzing in his pocket. He pulled his phone out and read the name of the notification. It was a text from the librarian he’d met yesterday, Prismo.
He clicked on the icon to see what had been sent.
What he found was a picture of a postal stamp with a cinnabar moth. Below was a text, stating:
[hey stranger!!1 saw this adn thought about youu]
Hm. So it seemed Prismo had recalled the details of their previous conversation. Something about having his preferences remembered elicited a… strange feeling in Scarab’s chest that he chose not to dwell on.
Although Prismo’s spelling was atrocious (which did not seem becoming of a librarian), he felt as though he should show some gratitude. And he was curious as to where Prismo had obtained that stamp. His fingers were moving before he knew it, typing up a response.
[I appreciate the sentiment, Prismo. Where exactly did you find that stamp? I may want to purchase a few for myself.]
Scarab did not make a habit of writing and mailing letters, but he did see value in the aesthetics of stamps, and wondered if they’d make a good addition to his terrarium journal.
Prismo’s reply came quickly, and with even more typos than before.
[boght em at a art store at peppermnt plaza. U shhould come with me sumtime :D]
It seemed Prismo was making a serious effort to befriend Scarab. He had no idea why, as the two had only met once. Scarab couldn’t help but be flattered by the attention, though.
But, as appreciative as Scarab was, he still had a job that took up a decent amount of his time, and he had to acknowledge the possibility that he wouldn’t be available for whatever Prismo wanted to plan.
[I’d be amenable to that , but my job can be demanding. What date did you have in mind?]
This time, Prismo replied even faster than before. Scarab considered advising him to slow down and check over his texts.
[oh yeahhh ur a health nsptecor righttt. is that a rly dificult job???]
Scarab wondered how to respond to that. He enjoyed the structure and consistent criteria that came with his job, and there was something to be said about the sense of control that came from deciding if a business was allowed to remain open.
However, he was also aware that that was a lot to put in a text message. He instead opted for a simple description.
[It’s a good job. Pays decently. My boss is reasonable, although he does insist on calling me “Scrabby”]
[WAIT THATS THHE CUTEST NICNAME EVER IM SOOO USING THAT]
[I regret saying anything.]
As Scarab texted, he quickly realized that he was standing in the middle of the sidewalk, smiling to himself like an idiot. There was no time for… this. He had somewhere to be, and he had to be there quickly.
Scarab pocketed his phone, resumed his pursuit of the bakery, and promptly remembered that he was still yet to schedule… whatever he was apparently going to do.
He pulled his phone out of his pocket again and sent another message.
[You didn’t respond when I asked you when you wanted to go to the shop you mentioned. I’m free next weekend. We can start there.]
[oohhhh i’m free sundays and wensdays so we could prolly meet on sunday??? I’d be good for liek tow or two thirty]
[That would work. Also, your texts are barely legible. May I suggest reading them over before you send them?]
[sugestion denied :D]
Scarab closed the messaging app, pocketed his phone once again, and realized that he still was wearing that stupid smile from earlier. He plastered on a more neutral expression, but he could still feel that persistent burning in his cheeks.
He was genuinely going to spend more time with this… hurricane of a man, and he was looking forward to it?
Gods, what on Earth was wrong with him?
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Prismo was over the moon.
Actually, the moon felt a little low for how he was feeling. Somewhere in the middle of the Big Dipper was more like it.
Scarab had actually, willingly agreed to go out with him. He was positive that his heart was going to beat out of his chest.
He turned off his phone and set it aside. His mouth already hurt from grinning.
Gods, what on Earth was he going to wear?