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"Didn't think you'd ever show your face here again, luv."
Ramb didn't even look up as he spoke, choosing to ignore the intimidating presence of the half-addison, half-robot abomination looming over his bar.
"[Mean Girls] EITHER, [Download RAM]."
The soft, regretful tone is the thing that actually surprised the bartender, a glass shattering on the tile floor as his head jolted up, eyebrows knit in confusion. Spamton, even without this body, had always been harsh, loud mouthed, offensive. Now that he was as large, if not *larger* than his boss, he figured he'd overtake the room with his voice.
But no.
He looked as if he wanted to be smaller, like if he'd been blessed with Tennas abilities, he'd have lowered himself down to Rambs height. Which wasn't a very Spamton thing to do.
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“Is there something botherin’ ya luv?”
Spamton stared at his glass, lightly tapping it with his claws. He wasn’t sure what to say or if he wanted to say anything at all. Spamton wasn’t one to share if anything was wrong with him; a habit he sure had to get rid of. His mind wandered off, forgetting that Ramb had spoken to him.
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“Earth to Spamton?”
That got Spamton back to reality. “I’d rather [[ready or not-]]” he finished the glass in one big gulp, setting the glass back down on the bar silently asking for a refill from ramb.
“Are you sure luv? You’re already not acting like yourself” ramb didn’t want to push but Spamton did look like something was greatly bothering him.
“I [[Simons Said]] I Don’t [[Want to lose weight?]] 2!]]
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"Alright, alright." He held his hands up in a placating manner as steam poured out of the beast in front of him. Fine. Spamton didn't want to talk, that was fine. That didn't mean Ramb wouldn't give him the space to if he changed his mind. "Just leavin' it open for ya luv. If you change your mind, you know people come to bartenders to ease their worries."
Tenna sure as hell did. All the time. You'd think therapy sessions with Mike would be enough for him, but no. Ramb still heard plenty of it, sober or drunk. Tenna was pretty bad at secrets.
"I [Donuts, at the big donut] NE3D T0 [talk show host] 2 ANYONE." Spamton repeated, claws digging into the wood of the bar. It was already covered in scratches from angry Tenna doing the same. Ramb figured it better he didn't continue to press.
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It was funny, even after everything, how similar Spamton and his boss were. A match made in hell, he'd joked, but truly, when they had first gotten together, it was a sight to behold. Everything they did made the other better, not only at work, but outside of studio hours. Tenna started coming to Ramb for things other than getting drunk; he started talking to his employees like people rather than pawns. Spamton, though not well liked, was respected because of how happy he made Tenna. Ramb didn't know the salesman too well back then, but he'd have guessed he was happier here, too. With Tenna. Before things started going south.
Before Tenna started stomping through the halls, antennae scraping the ceiling, slamming open every door as he searched for Spamton. Before Spamton started coming into work late, hungover, bags under his eyes. Before Tenna started taking his frustrations out on the pippins, out on the zappers, the shadowguys, and Ramb. Before Spamton started getting phone calls constantly, choosing to take them over doing his job. Before he started choosing the phone over Tenna.
That's what had broken the camels back. It was the phone calls. Ramb remembered one day, years ago, they were filming some new segment for the cooking channel. Spamton was supposed to be featured in an advertisement, but every time he started the ad read, the damned phone would ring, and he'd have to dash off stage to pick it up. Everyone could see Tenna losing it, getting angrier and angrier, except Spamton. It was like nothing to him mattered but answering whoever was on the other end of the line.
The screaming match had been the worst anyone had seen. Usually their fights irritated everyone, or simply annoyed them, but this one was different. This one had been soul crushing to witness.
Tenna had holed up in his dressing room for days, soft cries emanating from the door. Spamton had slammed the door of his car and sped out of the lot, gone to wherever he escaped when Tenna was being too much.
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Spamton had completely disappeared that time, leaving Ramb to try and get his boss back in working order. Ten years later he decided to reappear with Kris. Now he hung around Castle Town with Tenna.
They had been slowly trying to fix their relationship, but often one of them ended up in the bar. Slowly trying to wash away their troubles instead of talking to each other.
It annoyed Ramb.
If they just COMMUNICATED then they’d probably have less problems.
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Ramb didn’t like to intervene in people’s personal lives. What they do or what happened between them wasn’t his problem, but when you’re stuck with the same two people constantly staying well pasting closing to vent their issues. Action has to be taken.
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"Tenna was in here just last night." He announced to him, taking the empty glass from the giant without refilling it. A dangerous move for probably anyone but Ramb. Ramb was the only one that could really get away with that sort of thing with either of them. Sometimes he felt like their unwilling third. "Telling me about another fight you two had."
Neo puffed angrily at that, like he was indignant with Tenna for spilling their dirty laundry even though he did it himself all the time. Both of them were ridiculous.
"You two are really struggling with this communication stuff, aren't ya? You know luv, I've never met two people who love each other so much but hate talking to each other." He told him, looking pointedly at him as Spamton turned his whole head away to avoid his eyes.
"[LOVE] [the cake is a lie]." He replied miserably. Angel, what were they fighting about this time? Surely nothing that important.
"Oh yeah? You two break up or something?"
"... [Negative]."
"Right, didn't think so. You really should just go talk to him luv. You know it'd do you both a lot more good than taking turns crying at my bar every night.
"MAYB3 Y0UR [turn right in 500 feet]," Neo sighed with another puff of steam, heavy metal body making a horrific grinding sound as he stood up again. Ramb doubted being in that form was any more comfortable than the puppet form, but whatever worked for him. Ramb supposed it was his business. "I'LL [try, try again] T4LKING 2 H1M."
Wonderful. Maybe Ramb would end up capable of closing on time something this week.