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Atem stared down the vending machine. It did not seem phased in the slightest. A villainous bag of chips mocked him from where it remained firmly lodged, still caught in its spirally metal prison that, by terms of their arrangement and from what his eyes could see, should have released it by now.
“Yugi, partner,” Atem waved vaguely at where Yugi leaned against the wall, eyes on his phone. “What do I chant to make the machine drop my chips?”
Yugi looked up from the phone and opened his mouth but wasn’t quite sure how to answer that.
“Should I make an offering?” Atem asked. “I already gave it money, does it need something else?”
“No? Atem, it’s-” Sometimes technology was difficult enough to explain to the former spirit with 3,000 year old memories. Technology that didn’t work properly was impossible. It all depended on what he had paid attention to when they shared a body and apparently vending machines weren't on that list.
“I should find the manager. Maybe he knows a spell that will make the damn thing drop that bag.”
“Actually-” Yugi laughed and dropped the phone in his pocket. “Actually, yeah. That'll work, you should do that.”