Chapter Text
The bar was alive with quiet, mindless chatter, the occasional ringing tink of cups and glasses, and music coming from the old, worn down and probably out of tune piano in the corner atop the creaky wooden stage, with an equally worn down stool. The lights were dim and dull like usual, providing a less stressing environment.
A man, who was dressed in floral tones with an apron over it, worked his calloused hands, holding a washcloth, around the inside of a cup. His hair was blond-ish brown. It was typically styled into a mullet, but today he had it up into a low ponytail, presumably because it got in the way with how long it was. He raised his gaze upwards slightly to see the man approaching the bar, and narrowed his eyes, putting down the now clean cup.
“You’re bold for showing your face here,” He huffed, scoffing at the white haired man in front of him. “Especially after what happened last time.”
Smii7y shrugged, shifting himself onto a stool in front of the man, giving him his typical cocky grin, resting his chin on top of his hands with his elbows on the counter. “That guy deserved it. Can you make me something nice and put it on my friends tab?”
“Yeah. Your… friend, ” John grumbled, turning around. “Real friends you are, huh? Like a cat and a mouse. I can’t keep making up excuses for how pricey his tab gets, y’know. Don’t you have money?”
“Do you get paid to make drinks or to ask questions?”
The man shrugged. “I don’t get paid to do shit around here, quite frankly. I just think it’s fun to see you get defensive.”
Smii7y glanced around the bar, leaning slightly on the counter while he waited, very patiently, for his drink. Taking in the count of people around him, who looks richer, who’s worth the time… Normal things that normal people think about. This man is definitely not a criminal. He spotted someone racing from table to table, putting cups down and grabbing dirty dishes, yelling at the people sitting in the darker corner to calm down, and eventually their eyes met. Smii7y raised an eyebrow as his favorite bundle of energy walked over to him, putting down the dirty dishes he had accumulated on the counter.
“That didn’t take you long, my friend,” Matt teased as he maneuvered around the counter, leaning over it slightly to face Smii7y as he stacked the dirty dishes in the nearby sink. “Puffer let you out again?”
“Of course he did.” He gave John a slight nod as he was handed a cup of, presumably, whiskey. “It’s so easy if he’s the one on guard. Grizzy is a different story,” He hummed.
“I’d assume so.” The two watched as John went to go deal with someone else, but he spared one last glare towards Smii7y. “He talks about you a lot. Especially when he’s drunk, and if Grizzy is there too. It’s all Smii7y this and Smii7y that , and it gets quite annoying if you ask me.”
“I just have an irresistible charm, hm?”
“Don’t make your ego any bigger than it already is.”
Smii7y rolled his eyes, shaking his head slightly. “It’s not my fault.”
“Uh huh, you’re gonna blame it on Puffer, huh? I know what you are.”
“I dunno what you’re talking about,” Smii7y scoffed in mock denial, before chugging his drink and putting the empty glass on the counter. “I should get out of here before John gets annoyed with my general presence and decides to actually do something about it. See ya later, Matt.” He stood up, stretching, before heading for the door.
Across the main dirt road littered with people riding horses, a man entered the corner store, his grey eyes scanning the shelves as he cautiously and quietly walked around people and trying to find a secluded space without people, preferably a shelf with something useful that he could swipe and hide in his jacket.
Pezzy found just that. A corner, off to the side, with a barely functioning light. It was dark, there was nobody around, and the store clerk couldn’t see him, if the clerk even cared enough. He leaned on the wall, his gaze sweeping around the shelf. It was mostly fruit, which he had learned he couldn’t eat without some complications. Allergies, his doctor had called them, but he could care less about what the term was. He groaned, opting to dig around the shelf to see if anything was hidden or somebody had put something down that didn’t belong there out of disinterest. His hand brushed over something that definitely didn’t belong.
He pulled the object out, looking over it. A small package of crackers, but it’d have to do. It’s not like he was hungry hungry- he had food and he’d typically eat at the minimum two meals a day, but he’d rather not give his money to bigger corporations, the government, whoever. He shoved the package into a small compartment in his jacket, turning around and coming face to face with one of the town's three sheriffs while his hand was still in his jacket.
Shit. I’m fucking going to jail for stealing, shit, fuck-
The man in front of him was tall, with curly black hair and a cocky look as he stared down at Pezzy. “Heyyy, come here often?” He spoke, leaning slightly against the wall.
Pezzy fumbled a bit, taking his hand out of his pocket to seem less inconspicuous, but his response did not help his case. He stumbled over his words, a nervous laugh escaping his mouth before he eventually landed on a comprehensible word.
“..No?”
He was about to slap himself. Droid, the name of the man in front of him, just chuckled. “You buying somethin’? Need me to pay? I’ll buy you anything you want.” He was, obviously, trying to flirt. Key word: trying. Pezzy let out another nervous laugh, ducking beneath Droid’s arm. “No, I- I’m fine, thank you for the offer.” He cringed at the slight stutter as he raced out of the store, sparing one last glance at the man before leaving.
There was only one thought in Droid’s head as he watched the smaller man fumble and leave: Man, I am so good at flirting.