Work Text:
“A wonderful winter wonderland!”
Maybe it’s the cheap microphone, drinking on the job, or just the atmosphere in this cantina, but something is urging you to leave right now. By the look of the forced smile that this singer plasters on her face, you know that this is not her ideal gig. Just like you, she doesn’t want to be here either. You never wanted to be standing for six hours a day, watching strangers get wasted over repeated shots of vodka. Chasing drunks away from locked liquor cabinets while listening to terrible open mics all day long was not what six-year-old you had wanted. But no one views the future the way it’s going to be when they’re that young. You wanted to grow up and be a superhero back then. Some superhero you were now, cleaning up vomit from a customer who drank too much.
Hell, who would even want to do anything on this blasted planet? It’s a wasteland for nothing but middle-aged drunkards, low-class families, and the odd person or two dressed far too formally. But you can’t judge the high-pitched voice that’s well out of her natural vocal range, nor the sweat-ravaged makeup pilling over her face. Everyone is looking for a way out of this small world. It’s just that this was the best way possible for her to do so. Well, it’s unlikely that someone who looks and sings like a nerf-herder—terrible to the point where you have to get out of the cantina immediately—wants to stay here.
One of the old regulars near you shifts, jolting you out of your habit of people-watching. He taps a glass on the bar twice and slurs, “Hey, Bindy, be a dear and get ‘nother glass for me, will ya?”
It’s his fifth one. And your name is not Bindy. You pretend not to hear him and turn around, exaggerating your stretching while an audible yawn escapes your mouth. Your eyes flit up to the clock. It’s 11:59.
“D, I’m leaving,” you shout as you peel your gloves off and throw them into the trash bin. You miss but that’s fine. “Be back in thirty.”
The manager of this month, Darian, catches you before you can leave. He calls your name and you hesitate, giving away that you’ve heard him. You bite back a swear and turn around. As always, you know what he’s going to say. But you arch a brow at him anyway.
He rolls his eyes. “You didn’t think I’d catch you, did you?”
Wrong. You knew. That rat really does have eyes at the back of his head.
“You were late yesterday. Return before 12:15.”
You bite down on your tongue and leave without responding.
Just as you walk out, a middle-aged woman in a dark blue suit and a group of teenage boys bump into you. You stumble but catch yourself against the wall behind you.
“Kriffing hell! Watch where you’re going, please and thank you.”
“Sorry,” one of them says as they walk by. The rest ignore you.
You roll your eyes. Just because you’re still wearing the bartending uniform doesn’t mean that they can treat you like trash. You straighten your back and clumsily brush the dust off of your arms and ass. It’s always when people are watching that you can’t do normal things, can you?
The woman nudges the shoulder of one of the boys. You watch as she points at you and asks, “What is it?”
Your mouth falls open. The audacity of this woman is unbelievable. Especially if she’s as well-educated as her oddly expensive suit looks like. Before you can raise your voice and curse them out again, you realize that she’s pointing at your shoe. Confused, you look down and realize that there is a creature clinging to your right leg. The “it” in question? Something green and tiny that acts like a human toddler. It has crater-like eyes and a head of fuzzy green hair.
“By the Maker, let go of me!”
It doesn’t respond. Instead, you swear that its mini talons grip onto the ends of your trousers even harder. It blinks and tilts its head, staring up into your eyes. Its gaze is unflinching and you’d be screaming if it's intimidating. But it isn’t, and you’re not one to back away from a challenge. You make eye contact with it and stare right back.
You repeat the question, but the creature doesn’t say anything.
“Can you talk?”
The thing does not move.
“Are you ignoring me?”
A sigh escapes your mouth and you shake your leg. Gently, so you don’t hurt the thing. But your movements are harsh enough for the creature to figure out that you want him to go away. Maybe he doesn’t understand the language you’re speaking. The green thing is wasting the little time that you have on your lunch break. Maker knows how Darian will react if you walk into the cantina with a weird animal clinging to the end of your trousers. Hell, the entire cantina will stop and stare. But even with all of your continuous shaking, it is still attached to your leg. It’s as if your trousers are its life source. Maker, the people around here probably think you have fire ants scurrying up your thighs by now. Or that you’re just crazy. You purse your lips and shake your leg again, in vain. You reach out to pry the green fingers off of your leg, but they’re surprisingly stiff.
“Hands off.”
Someone taps on your back and you twist your torso to see who’s touching you. Kriffing hell, you really are a people-magnet today, aren’t you? This time, it’s a curious little girl. She’s asking you where you got your pet. You blankly stare at her until her finger points at the animal clutching your leg. Your eyes shut, then open again. Damn, she’s still here.
“Listen, kid. I’m so hungover that I don’t even know if this is a dream or not. All I know is that a strange green thing has grabbed my leg and won’t let me go.”
“Can I-“
“No, it is not my pet. Conversation over.”
You stare at her until she backs away, then decide that you regret nothing. If you’re in a bitchy mood now, might as well make everyone else around you uncomfortable. Besides, it’s not like you’re going to see this girl at work. She looks like she’s eleven. No way she’s drinking from Darian’s Drink Till You Drop menu. You twist your back around to glare at the creature once more.
“Are you going to let go of me now?”
You swear that it’s being defiant on purpose. It continues to stare at you for a few more seconds. Then, it loosens its grip.
“Finally,” you say. “Thanks a lot. A brilliant way to spend twenty minutes of my break.”
You kneel to brush off whatever dirt the green thing has wiped on your trousers, but falter when you see small tears from its nails. Why in the sector would this creature’s nails be so sharp? You grimace.
“Darian is not going to let me get away with ripping his precious work trousers. Even though they’re so ugly that I’m kind of glad you ripped them.”
The green thing’s pointy ears prick up. You shake your head and cross your arms.
“But it doesn’t matter! He’s going to chew me out for it, saying that it was super expensive or something, even though it probably cost him half a credit to get. Honestly, he probably stole it from a thrift store. But that doesn’t matter. Are you trying to get me fired?”
You scoff and turn your back against this odd womp rat. You have five minutes left and don’t want to get yelled at for being late like you were yesterday. Especially if you’re going to tell Darian about the rip. You doubt that he’d believe your story. Suddenly, a loud noise squeaks, and you can tell it’s from the green thing. Huffing, you turn around and look back down at it. While its ears had once been upright, they were droopy now. Its eyes were glistening and you think that it’ll cry if you leave it.
“Why do I even care? All you’ve done is waste my fifteen minutes of break.”
You didn’t think that it was possible, but the green thing’s ears droop even lower. Kriff, now you feel bad. A groan escapes your mouth and you clutch your head. Your eyes close, imagining how Darian would react to bringing this creature to the cantina. Well, he can’t tell you that your excuse for the tears in your trousers is a lie. Will you get fired for bringing such an odd animal in? Did the cons outweigh the pros?
“Really? I’m going crazy. Why am I even thinking about this?”
But you know that your heart has already made the decision for you.
“Stop doing voodoo magic on me, womp rat.”
It blinks again, radiating waves of both innocence and pure manipulation. Your mind races and you go through scenarios of Darian throwing both you and this creature out. Well, you were planning on quitting soon. And you can tell that he’ll be looking for excuses to fire you after your second tardy yesterday. So it won’t matter whether you walk in alone or with a tiny green gremlin. Either way, you’ll probably end up jobless, right?
“Preying on my secret soft spot?”
Your eyes can’t look away from the green bean. It has waddled very slowly to where you are now, and you can’t help but notice what you hadn’t before. The creature is wearing only a dirty rucksack around its body. And if it’s so keen on staying with you, it probably has nowhere else to go. Or it’s just using you to find food and shelter. You grumble as you pick up the green thing.
“You know exactly what you’re doing, don’t you?”
It squeaks with a certain level of joy that breaks your heart. It’s so happy to find its way into the arms of someone who definitely can’t spare the credits to give it what it needs.
You look the womp rat in the eye and say, “I don’t know how long this is going to last or whether you have someone else looking for you. But I guess I’ll try to help you out until I can’t anymore.”
The bean stares up at you, and you think it’s trying to smile.
“But you can’t depend on me, okay? I-”
You take a heavy breath.
“I probably can’t help you the way you want me to.”
You don’t know what this creature is, why it won’t let you go, or even why you’re agreeing to keep it safe for the meantime. Job instability is hounding your ass and you can’t imagine a life where you could possibly give this gremlin the essentials it needs.
But you want to.
And so, you hug him tight and whisper in his ear, “Happy holidays.”