Chapter Text
Grillby was used to seeing a usual round up of monster, a handful of humans, and then the ordinary curious folk who came in every so often but didn't find it charming enough to come back regularly. He could have told what day it was based solely on who came through the front door; the dog family came every Wednesday as well as every other weekend. Sans came, at the very least, every other day. The rabbit monster, bound to get tipsy, arrived every Monday and Tuesday, so on and so on. It was routine.
One day, you showed up.
You were a human, clad in a loose hoodie and jeans, a pair of sneakers on your feet, practically screaming of a relaxed night out. You opened the door, looked around, seemingly unaffected by the ragtag group of monsters scattered around, then crossed the room and sat at the bar. You dipped your head to him, then turned on your stool and gazed out over the bar.
He wondered, faintly, if you were waiting for someone. When he told you he'd give you a glass of water but he didn't touch the stuff- his usual opening to newcomers- you had simply smiled slightly and shook your head. Perhaps you wanted to order something when whoever you might be waiting for got there. It would be considerate, after all.
You sat there, watching the comings and goings of the bar, for several hours. That was all you did. Sit and watch everyone. At first, he was suspicious. But then, you held no obvious weapons, you were of no build to take on a whole bar, and you weren't giving any sign of aggression, not even when a monster sat beside you. As the crowd thinned, you stuck a hand in your pocket, placed a five on the counter, stood and left.
Curious. He was not planning on seeing you again.
You came back the Saturday after that, same time, then left without having gotten anything, just as the crowd was thinning. The same happened Sunday. Then Monday. You didn't appear Tuesday, Wednesday, or Thursday, but you did appear the next Friday.
It was always the same; you sat at the bar, faced the bustling floor, and did nothing else. It was as if you were people-watching, except in a monster filled bar. You seemed relaxed and slack while you sat, but you never dozed off or appeared lost in thought. Your eyes were always focused and curious. They were surprisingly childlike. When the place was near empty, you would stand and put whatever spare change or cash was in your pocket on the counter, then leave.
He came to accept your odd routine in the same way he accepted everyone else's. You were the first regular human he had. Besides Frisk, of course.
For a time, he briefly wondered in the back of his mind if you were mute. He'd never heard you speak, not even when you declined his first few attempts to ask if you wanted anything.
One night, though, he was proven wrong. You had been slightly tenser, somewhat fidgety the whole night, making a slight face. When one of the various monsters stood and waved as they headed out the door, you drew in a breath. You'd turned sharply to him, looking surprisingly serious.
"Call the cops for me, my phone is dead."
Then you'd stood and quickly crossed the bar to the door, stepping out the door and veering sharply to the left. He wasted no time, simply directed the man on the emergency line to the bar's location, before removing his apron and heading for the door himself. While he wasn't sure of your character, you didn't seem the type to play practical jokes. As he walked around the bar, he noticed one smaller shadow slide across the front windows, then several larger ones followed it. Several other monsters started peering outside and one gasped.
When he stepped out, he found you standing on top of a dumpster at the edge of the alleyway, broken bottle in hand. Surrounding you like sharks was a group of burly, drunken men. He was faintly surprised you were holding your own as well as you were, but then, you had somehow convinced the thoroughly intoxicated men the bottle was a laser gun from the future and one blast would kill them.
He would have chuckled if the situation wasn't what it was.
When you had spotted him over the top of the men, you had waved like you were greeting an old friend.
"Hey! Can you help me trap these guys in this alley till the cops get here? They wanted to beat up that little dog guy!" You had hollered over the tops of their heads, and they had turned to see who you were talking to. He had rolled up his sleeves and advanced towards them slowly, purposefully; of course, they had ducked into the alley like scared dogs.
The cops had arrived not too long afterwards and promptly took care of the situation. You had stayed to watch them drive away, and it was then that he noticed you holding your shoulder a little awkwardly.
"... Thank you." He'd said simply, not quite sure what else would be appropriate. Before he could ask if you were hurt or needed help, you responded.
"No problem." You'd shrugged, stuffed a hand into your pocket, then offered him the handful of change and bills. When he didn't raise a hand to take it, you'd made a slight face as if you were thinking, then ducked into the building. When he followed after you, he found you dropping the money onto the counter beside where he'd put the drying rag. Then you trotted across the bar again, giving him a friendly smile as you slipped out.
Curious. You were a very curious person. While it wasn't any of his business, he wondered if he would learn more about you over time, somewhere in the back of his mind. He wasn't the type to stick his nonexistent nose where it didn't belong, nor the type to instigate friendships, but part of him wouldn't mind getting to know you a little more.
(In case you hadn't guessed, yes, he would learn more about you as time went by, in the most curious of ways.)