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Tenna wasn’t sure how or why he had allowed himself to be talked into this. Or, really, why he’d talked himself into this.
No one at the studio had been pushing him to go with them. In fact, they’d nearly been doing the opposite. But… if everyone else was going to explore the new Dark World that had just shown up right next to their own… Tenna should too! It would only make sense for him to serve as the ambassador for TV World — it was his world! Besides, it’d probably be… fun! New sights, new sounds, new faces, how… exciting.
And, at first, it was fun! Or maybe awe-inspiring would be the more appropriate word. Dazzling skyscrapers, fast cars, fireworks lighting up the technicolor sky… he’d never seen anything like it. Cyber City, if he was remembering Queen’s words correctly, was a sight to behold.
(An intense but welcoming leader herself. Tenna just wished he understood half of the words that came out of her mouth).
Speaking of, Queen had been kind enough to offer him and his right-hands a tour… at least until she got bored and disappeared with no preamble in the middle of a busy intersection, abandoning him and the Weather in the middle of her vast, maze-like domain. Amazing.
He’d made it perhaps another ten minutes before he’d felt like an unwanted third-wheel dragging after the Weather, and insisted they go off on their own to properly enjoy themselves.
(He loved his right hands, really he did, but it was hard not to feel a bit out of place watching them croon over each other nonstop).
Elnina and Lanino had hesitated, worried he’d get lost or worse, but he insisted that he’d be fine. And if something did happen, Tenna would just give them a call (tapping his antennae for emphasis). After a little more convincing, the two left hand in hand, disappearing into the endless crowd.
Which is how Tenna now found himself alone in the middle of this bright, buzzing, and confusing city. This... amazing city, everything emphasizing how modern, sleek, and neo it was. Awe swiftly dissolved into something bitter. Was the world really moving this fast outside of the cozy little bubble of his lightners’ home? It made him wonder, not for the first time; why did the kids bring this laptop, this foreign object of modernity, home when they had a perfectly good TV? Was TV Time!!– was he… boring them?
He shivered at the thought, antennae wilting as he walked aimlessly (shopping bags in hand, full of useless trinkets he’d gotten sweet-talked into buying by those colorful “Addison” darkners back in one of the busier parts of the city. It seemed a good idea at the time, but looking at them now he just felt like a sucker. In what world did he need edible shoes?). The gawking from some of the less considerate cyber darkners — which was most of them — was definitely not improving his mood. Don’t get Tenna wrong, he’d usually preen at so much attention, but he just knew they were judging him. So old, so clunky, so behind the times compared to the sleek and futuristic world he was stumbling through. All 15 feet (though rapidly shrinking) of him stuck out like a sore antenna. He needed to get away from all the noise, the innovation, the stares, it was– it was just too much! And that was coming from the ever-boisterous, more is more, always groovy and never glooby Ant Tenna.
Nothing about this city was quiet, but it seemed that the back alleys he eventually wandered into were as close as he was going to get. Less darkners for sure, except for the occasional rodent that scurried past — prompting decidedly un-manly squeals out of the CRT each time. But at least he could actually hear himself think, and more literally, the gentle whirring of his own mechanisms. Every little rustle and breath stuck out against the distant drone of innovation. It was a little bit creepy, but Tenna loved a good Horror Movie Marathon– oh Sponsors, he couldn’t wait for Halloween, to entertain his kids and the Holiday girls with spooky movies. Jumpscares! Monsters! Blood and guts! How they laughed and squealed… December and Kris teaming up to torment poor Asriel and Noelle…
He grew a few feet at the warm and fuzzy memories — then lost those few feet when he remembered where he was.
Would they even want to watch a Horror Movie Marathon if they had this laptop instead? He loathed to admit it, but he’d seen so many amazing things in his short time here, he wouldn’t be surprised if this internet thing offered something similar. He nibbled at his bottom lip. That just wouldn’t do. He’d need to seriously amp things up to keep their attention at this rate. Perhaps he should start advertising those marathons earlier? Sure, it was July, but there’s no harm in being ahead (but plenty in being behind). He could also start properly prepping now — maybe if he played his cards right they could double what they had on offer by the time Halloween rolled around. Maybe then they wouldn’t bother with this silly laptop. If he just reminded them, kept their attention, shined brighter than this silly city. Maybe–
“Hic– dammit…”
Tenna froze, torn out of his thoughts by the sound. Not the squeak of a rodent, or the general ambience he’d grown accustomed to, but a… was that a sob? Tenna’s antennae twitched as he leaned toward the sound, instinctively. He couldn’t help it — it’s his job to keep people happy! His lightners, mostly, but…
…
The back alleys went silent again, and for a moment Tenna thought he might have imagined it — somehow mistaking another, more back alley typical noise for that of a distressed darkner. He wouldn’t put it past himself, especially with where his mind was. But he could’ve sworn– there it was again! A hiccup, followed by another weak sob, the sounds coming just a few twists and turns away from the TV host. He frowned sympathetically. It seemed he wasn’t the only one having a rough day — and, he wasn’t the only one drawn toward the solace of the quiet back alleys.
Tenna awkwardly shifted from foot to foot, antennae jolting at every distant, muffled whimper they picked up. Should he turn around? Whoever it was probably wanted to be alone. You don’t wander into a place like this when you want someone to find you, after all. But… well. Just like he couldn’t help but crane his monitor toward the noise, he couldn’t help but feel drawn to it. Whoever that was… he could help them! Not everyone who doesn’t want to be found doesn’t need to be found, and, well it’s what he’s good at, what he’s made for.
In fact, if Tenna framed it the right way, this could be an opportunity. Show these high and mighty cyber darkners just what TV can do — the not so high and mighty cyber darkner that was all alone crying in the back alleys anyways. Nothing can beat TV at making you smile, and Tenna could prove it. First this stranger, then he could flex his skills elsewhere! No need for all that gloobiness about being old or outdated, he’s still got it! And he’s going to go prove that right now!
And do a good deed of course. That too.
Tenna shuffled quickly, but carefully, toward the noise. It didn’t take long for him to reach the alley it was coming from, and he tentatively rounded the corner to see–
Oh?
It was an Addison — that stark glow, that black and green uniform, and he could assume a long nose though he couldn’t see it from here, were all unmistakeable. They stood close to the far wall, back turned to Tenna, seemingly unaware of his presence. They sniffled and sobbed, rubbing their face with a frantic energy, like they couldn't keep up with themself. This was definitely a sharp contrast from the image Tenna had made up in his head about this kind of darkner up to this point. All those other Addisons had seemed so unflappable!
Tenna stared for a few seconds longer — it seemed their differences from the other Addisons didn’t stop at their current composure. They were significantly shorter than the ones he’d run into earlier, and much less colorful (though, in Tenna’s opinion, no less striking), a pale white instead of the shades of pinks, oranges, blues, and yellows he’d been surrounded by before. Perhaps they weren’t actually an Addison at all… which was besides the point.
Tenna stood a little straighter and adjusted his bow tie. Whatever had pushed the Addison-like darkner to this state was nothing a little TV couldn’t fix, he was certain. He opened his mouth, about to make his presence known–
“DAMMIT!”
Tenna bit back a yelp as the Addison cried out, slamming a fist against the brick wall in front of them. Another punch, then another, punctuated by swears and pained hisses. “Dammit, dammit, dammit!” They slumped forward, forehead thunking against grey–blue brick.
Tenna lifted a hand to his own screen sympathetically. Ouch.
After a few labored breaths, the Addison hissed between clenched teeth. “Fuck ‘em! Fuck those damn peacocks! Uppity bastards each and every [one of a kind deals!!!] of ‘em!” They pushed themself off of the wall, hands rushing to brush through their tousled hair — there was a bit of what looked like blood on the hand they’d been assaulting the wall with. They left a small streak of it behind. “Ohhh, you just need to work a little harder! Maybe stop staring, you little creep! Fix your posture, fix your [smile, you’re on camera] [fix your credit score in three easy]— fuck!”
Yeesh, the mouth on this one! Certainly not sponsor friendly.
The Addison kicked a nearby trashbag, ripping and spilling its contents across the ground. They hardly seemed to notice that it got on their lime-green shoes as they let out what almost sounded like a growl. “No matter what I do, no one–! Argh, they just don't get it!” A few watery, angry breaths. “I’ll show them! I’ll [shows are on the hour] every single one of them! Any day now I’ll [make it Big!] and then those cheap assholes will be [I’m beggin’ you] [[me me me]] for help!” After a few seconds of silence, the Addison slumped back against the wall with a deep, shaky sigh. “No more humiliating side jobs, no more sitting back while they all brag about their stupid numbers, no more begging for cash. I’m… I’m gonna…” A sob slipped out, then another. “Hic– fuck…”
Tenna gulped.
… Well! It seemed he had his work cut out for him! But it wasn’t anything he couldn’t handle, just a bit more than he’d anticipated! Tenna waited a few moments, just to see if they’d start up again, not wanting to interrupt their distressed monologue — he hated when someone else cut him off when he was having a meltdown of his own.
When they didn’t, merely sniffling and hiccuping like they had been before, Tenna cleared his throat — undeterred, though marginally more concerned than he’d been a minute ago. “Hello?”
The Addison squawked, whirling around, eyes wide. “Who the hell–?!” Their gaze landed somewhere around Tenna’s midsection, before gradually making its way up to his screen. Their mouth fell open, taking a step back. “Holy shit–”
Tenna slouched, trying to make himself a little smaller. He’d heard once or twice that his height was intimidating, though he found it hard to imagine why. “Sorry to startle you!” He put on his most award-winning smile, paired with an apologetic slant of his antennae. “I was just in the area and couldn’t help but notice–”
Tenna didn't get the opportunity to finish the thought. “No no no!” The Addison started furiously trying to get their act together, tears wiped away, hair brushed back though no less unruly. Their eyes fluttered closed as they smiled — or at least that’s what Tenna assumed they were going for — and stood up straight, a hand held out placatingly. It reminded Tenna of the demeanors he’d seen on the other Addisons, but on this one it just looked… awkward, to put it politely. An approximation rather than a perfect copy. “I’m sorry [100th visitor]! I’m afraid I am off the [rockin’ around the clock] right now! You’ll wanna head that way–” They pointed the direction Tenna was originally headed. “–For [Hot Dealz] [We’re Addisons! All we do is]!”
That was the opposite direction from where Tenna thought he remembered the other Addisons being, but he supposed he could be mistaken. This city was a maze. “Oh, well, thank you, but I’m not here for, um, “Hot Deals”?”
The sales person’s smile twitched. “Then what the hell–?! I mean–” They cleared their throat, shakily adjusting the glasses they were wearing — whether the shakiness was due to nerves or the abuse that hand had been through only moments ago was unclear. “I’m afraid I don’t have any [click here for a free ]! If it’s directions you’re [here’s that sound you were lookin’ for], I can help ya, but that’ll be $9.99 plus an additional [[$4.99]] off-duty charge!” Alright, Tenna thought he might have been imagining it at first, but there was definitely something weird going on with this Addison’s voice. Weird enough, in fact, that Tenna was starting to have a hard time following.
“Erm, nono, neither of those–?”
“Fine! You caught me!” The Addison held out a hand, and in a burst of discolored pixels, a small shoe on a stick appeared. It looked like the edible shoes that’d been hawked on him earlier. “[Hear ye]! [Free sample!]! Last one I’ve got!” The Addison stepped forward, shoving the sample into Tenna’s hands. Well, despite their eccentricities, they definitely were just as pushy as the others.
Tenna fumbled with the shoe on a stick, nearly dropping it. “Oh! Um…” He looked down. Hm. Up close it actually looked a little… off. Expired, maybe? Tenna’s lip curled instinctively as he pocketed it. No need to point that out — it wasn’t like he was paying for it. Or asking for it. “Thank you?”
“Uh huh. Now, if ya don’t [mind over matter]...” The Addison stepped away again, clapping their hands together. Their head tilted slightly every couple of seconds — trying to see past Tenna, perhaps.
Trying to see past– they’re about to leave! Tenna stepped forward, hands held out a little frantically. “But, I don’t– I just wanted to ask–”
“Oh, for fucks sake– could you catch a damn hint [[idiot box]]?!” Tenna flinched backwards as the Addison's eyes snapped open, scowling. “Can’t you tell I’m a little [busy hands are happy hands]?!”
Tenna’s screen flickered, his own smile now straining at the edges. Alright. Off to a terrible start. But he’s TV! Always groovy, never glooby! He could deal with a little… playing hard to get, so to speak! This wouldn’t be his first difficult audience… even if this one had a hell of a potty mouth. They could always fix it in post! This was his chance to prove himself to these cyber darkners! He has tough plating! He could keep his cool! So what if he had to ignore some uncalled-for behavior? He spoke through grit teeth. “Ha… busy doing… what, exactly?”
That pale white face of theirs was rapidly turning red — in any other context, Tenna might’ve said it looked cute, especially paired with the way their hair was beginning to stand on end. Like an irritated cat. “None of your [dam in need of repair] business!” A very rude, irritated cat.
Tenna powered through. “I think it just might be. Because to me it looked like you, my marketable friend, are in need of some help, hm?” He tilted his screen. “Having a rough day?”
“What do you think?” They hissed, nose wrinkling as they looked down at the ground. “If you’re just here to make [fun for the whole family] of me then you can [50% off].”
“... Fifty percent off…?”
“[50]–[50]–” The Addison groaned before smacking themself in the face, hard — Tenna flinched again.
“Woah, hey–!”
“Fu–fuck off.”
“... Ah! Well, I won’t be doing that, and I am not here to make fun of you!” Tenna clasped his hands together. “I just saw someone a little down in the dumps and thought I could help!”
The Addison was looking at him like he was trying to tell them up was down. “Yeah, [shore] you did.”
“I mean it!”
“Uh-huh,” they drawled. “More like you saw what you thought was an easy [Target Pride Collection] for whatever [shitake] you’re tryin’ to pull.” Tenna opened his mouth to protest, but the Addison prattled on without giving Tenna so much as a moment to breathe. “Well, [Buddy ol’ Pal], ain’t nobody better at taking you for a ride than an Addison, so you’re [Bark Like You Want It] up the wrong tree! Anybody with half a brain in this city knows that.” Their gaze fell to the exorbitant amount of Addison brand shopping bags Tenna was carrying. “You’re seriously tellin’ me you didn’t learn your lesson after they pawned all that shit on you?”
Tenna’s screen flushed. This guy…! Whatever, whatever! They're lashing out because they're upset! Bigger person Tenna, be the bigger person! “First of all,” Tenna huffed. “I’m not trying to take anyone for a ride. I’m an honest man! And I’ll have you know I’ve got an eye for quality! I only bought the best of the best!” A blatant lie, but he couldn’t just not defend himself from these slights! Sure, he was still going to try to help them — he hadn’t given up on that quite yet — but he wasn’t just gonna roll over and take it. That wouldn’t be a good look for the boss of TV World.
They sneered. “We must be thinkin’ about different darkners, cause the ones I know don’t hawk the best of the best.”
Wow. The Addisons had seemed a bit of a competitive bunch, but this was on another level. “Well…! Maybe we are!” Tenna puffed out his chest and raised his chin. “I can assure you no one’s pulled the wool over my antennae. I am quite the smart television, I’ll have you know!”
The salesperson gave him a long, unimpressed look, before sighing and turning away. “Yeah, whatever, sure, this is stupid.” At least someone was willing to recognize this argument wasn’t going anywhere. Their shoulders slumped, and the fight in them that had been moments from boiling over suddenly fizzled. “Don’t you have anything better to do than argue with some asshole in an alleyway?”
Well… Tenna cleared his throat. “I do, actually!”
A bitter smile. “Good for you, [Big Shot]. Don't let me keep you—”
“Now, now!” Tenna tsked and wagged a finger. “My task is right here. And it's got a whole lot to do with you!”
A bitcrushed sigh. “Come on…”
“I know we got off on, aha, the wrong foot! But I really meant it!” Tenna clapped his hands together.
“... Meant what?”
“That I'm here to help you! What else?” Their stare was only getting more incredulous by the second. “I simply can't ignore a darkner in need, you see! And you, my friend, appear to be in dire need of some quality TV!” Tenna dropped his shopping bags on the ground — carefully avoiding any unidentifiable sludge — and waved his hands in a flourish. “TV can heal all your ailments and cure any bout of boredom! There's nothing better! Anything I can do for you, I will! You need only ask!” He struck a pose. “And that’s the TV Time!! Guarantee!”
…
No response at first. Just a wide-eyed, blank stare. Tenna held his pose regardless, and when nothing changed, he added jazz hands for emphasis. Maybe that would help it set in? He sure hoped so, anyways. His arms were starting to hurt — he wasn’t used to carrying his own shopping bags for so long.
A few moments holding his pose and doing jazz hands for way too long later, the salesperson’s neck fluff gradually settled, though they were still squinting up at Tenna. “... You’re bein’ serious, aren’t you, big guy?”
Finally! Heaven above — finally! Tenna nodded eagerly. “Serious as a heart attack! Don't you know you can believe anything you see on TV?”
They tilted their head, one hand fiddling with the sleeve of their shirt — their sleeves that were a little too long for them, Tenna noted. “... How much are you chargin’?”
Tenna laughed. “No, no! I’m not charging anything! This is free, quality entertainment coming straight to your house!” He raised a hand to his mouth, whispering to an imaginary audience. “(But if you wanna stop by our Lovely gift shop, I won’t stop you!)”
The Addison tapped their foot — it made a squelching sound as they stepped on a bit of spilled trash. They actually noticed this time and stepped away with a grimace, shaking their pants leg fruitlessly. “... You said anything?”
“Anything at all!” Tenna replied with an enthusiastic clap of his hands. “TV’s got all that you could ever need!”
They scoffed, mumbling what sounded a bit like “sure it does,” before looking Tenna up and down. They sniffled (sniffed?). “... You got a smoke?”
Tenna’s antennae twitched. “... Really?”
He got nothing but that same blank, wide-eyed stare in response. This one stared a lot, didn’t they? Tenna supposed he couldn’t really judge, he did his fair share of staring himself, he just got away with it because no one could tell where he was looking. He frowned. “Is that all you want? Seriously?”
They crossed their arms. “Do you have cigarettes or not?”
Faced with everything TV could offer, and that’s what they come up with?! Tenna would truly never understand any of these more modern darkners, would he? Whatever, at least they weren’t swearing at him anymore — that was definitely a start!
Tenna sighed, reaching into his suit-jacket. “I do, yes,” he said, pulling out a carton and offering it to the salesperson.
They swiftly nabbed a cigarette (deftly pocketing another two just quickly enough the TV wouldn’t notice he had a few less cigarettes than he should until much later, if ever), before pulling out a brightly-colored, cheap-looking lighter.
Click click. Tenna watched pixelated flames flicker to life. It’s a really nasty habit, he thought to himself. He’d been trying to cut back lately. He slipped another out for himself before pocketing the carton again. He’d had a lot of good conversations over smokes — perhaps this really would be just what the little salesperson needs to get out of whatever dump they’re in. Tenna glanced at the trash bags crammed in the alley. Literally and figuratively. He looked back to the Addison as they attempted to light their cigarette.
Finally, the cigarette caught, and they leaned back as they took a drag, gaze flickering up to Tenna’s screen as the showhost lit his own. They held the smoke in their mouth for a moment, before exhaling. Their shoulders relaxed, eyelashes fluttering. “... You’re one of those TV World folks, aren’t ya?”
Were they only realizing that now? Whatever, besides the point! Tenna brightened up. “Yup! Is it that obvious?” He joked, before taking a quick drag. Smoke billowed out of his vents as he continued, “I’m Mr. (Ant) Tenna, host of TV Time!! and the boss of TV World!” His words sparkled in the air as he leaned in conspiratorily. “Most folks just call me Tenna.”
The Addison, who’d been in the middle of taking another drag, choked, briefly breaking into a coughing fit. “Sh– shit–” They pushed their glasses up — which had been knocked askew — and looked up at Tenna, then at his words still floating mid-air, then back. “You’re [Serious as a heart attack!]?”
Oh, that’s new! Did they just copy me? “Yup, the one and only! Took the words right out of my mouth! Quite literally.” Tenna chuckled. “How do you do that? I don’t remember the other Addisons being able to do that voice thing!” He paused, remembering his musings from before. “You are an Addison, right?”
That appeared to be the wrong thing to say, as they grimaced, that prominent nose of theirs wrinkling again. “Yeah, somethin’ like that. And I don’t do the voice thing on purpose it’s a…” They waved a hand, taking another drag. “Annoying glitch thing. Cyber darkner stuff. Just ignore it. You wouldn’t get it anyway, considering...” They gestured toward Tenna vaguely.
Because you’re outdated and out of the loop, they didn’t say.
A part of Tenna wanted to be offended, but he knew they were right. At least they were nice enough not to say the quiet part out loud. An appreciated change from the barrage of empty insults from earlier. “Ha… aha… probably not…!”
“Yeah…” They looked away, placing their cigarette between their teeth before crossing their arms. “... Sorry, by the way. Um, Mr. Tenna.” They droned on, almost as if on auto-pilot, like they’d said this next part a million times. “Didn’t know who I was talkin’ to. [Us Addisons like to hold up a certain standard of customer service, if you have a complaint please file it with]–”
Tenna waved a hand. “Oh, no need for all that! Water under the bridge!” His tail twitched behind him, the only sign of any remaining irritation from their previous bickering. “Sorry’s plenty good enough, no need to bring the big guy into this, haha! Besides, you’re far from my rowdiest audience member, I’ve had worse!” Not true, this salesperson might very well be the worst, but they didn’t need to know that! That’d be counterproductive to Tenna’s plan to cheer them up!
“Hah, very funny.” Tenna didn’t say anything, and the salesperson’s expression shifted a few times, before landing on a surprised, wide-eyed look. “... Oh. Alright. If you say so.” They took another drag. “Your loss. Most folks get a [HUGE payout] after complainin’ about me.”
Tenna’s antennae wilted. He couldn’t say he didn’t understand why that was the case if this was how they talked to customers. But considering the Addison's earlier complaints he also couldn’t say he didn’t feel bad for the little guy. And, besides, could he really judge someone based on how they act while glooby? That hardly seemed fair! He'd said his own share of… uncouth things when in the throes of a mood. “Well, I’m not interested in that.”
The Addison merely hummed, staring at the cigarette between their fingers.
Speaking of, Tenna was getting a bit tired of calling them the Addison or the salesperson in his inner monologue. He fidgeted with his own cigarette, watching it slowly burn down closer and closer to the filter. They must have a name, right? The others had just called themselves the Addisons but that couldn’t be all of their names. Surely that would get confusing. He turned his monitor slightly. “... What’s your name, by the by?”
A chuckle. “Thought you weren’t gonna report me.”
“I’m not!” Tenna put a hand to his chest. “But I told you my name, so it’s only fair!”
“What’s it matter to a guy like you?” They raised a brow, meeting Tenna’s gaze.
“Oh it matters plenty! I love meeting my audience any chance I can get — and that includes learning their names!” Tenna decided not to linger on the fact that he couldn’t remember half of his employee’s names, now that he put his mind to it. “So come on, what should I call you, dear viewer?”
The Addison exhaled smoke through their nose. “... Name’s Spamton. Spamton G. Spamton.”
Tenna’s antennae twitched. Same first and last name…? He supposed he’s heard stranger. “... Catchy!”
That got a smirk, the first genuine smile he’d seen from them since he got here. Progress! “Thanks.”
“Of course! Nice to meet you mist– erm…?”
“Mister,” Spamton said quickly — almost eagerly. Tenna could see a small, fluffy tail wagging behind him. Not as flashy or elegant as the ones he’d seen on the other Addisons, but infinitely cuter, if you asked Tenna. Though he had a suspicion someone like Spamton wouldn’t appreciate such an observation.
“... Okie dokie, Mr. Spamton!” Tenna raised his cigarette to his lips. “It’s alright if I just call you Spamton, though, right?”
Spamton shrugged, still smiling. “Knock yourself out.”
“Great!” Tenna took another drag, smoke fluttering out the edges of the dopey grin on his screen. Alright, he’s already in a much better mood! I’m killin’ this! Only on TV Time!! Folks! Now if I could just get him to ask for something a little more substantial than a cigarette… “... Are you sure you don’t want anything else?”
“I want lots of things.” Spamton twirled his cigarette, lazily. “But not anything you’re offering, Mr. Tenna.”
“Oh, well, you don’t know that unless you ask!”
“... Alright, think you can whip me up a new car, big guy? Somethin’ fancy — a sports model, preferably.” Sarcasm laced Spamton’s tone, expression shifting to something more flat.
Ah. “... I’m not sure that’s in the budget!”
Spamton took one last drag, before tossing the stub onto the ground and stomping it out. Gosh, he went through that fast! “That’s what I thought.”
Tenna tilted his monitor hopefully. “Perhaps there’s a good middle ground?”
Spamton fiddled with his sleeves, eyes slightly narrowed in thought. “Can you get me some less shitty coworkers?”
Right… he was complaining about them earlier, wasn’t he? Hm, that’d be tricky, but… “Well, you Addison folks don’t work for me, but I could maybe put a word in with Queen–?”
Spamton shook his head. “Don’t bother. I was kiddin’.” He looked up at Tenna and smiled. It was awkward and a little lopsided, Tenna noted, but it actually reached his eyes unlike the salesman grin he was putting on at first. “‘Preciate the sentiment though, big guy. You go around offerin’ up wishes to every schmuck you find in an alley way? You a TV Host or a genie?”
“Who’s to say I’m not both?” Tenna put out his half-smoked cigarette on the wall, then tucked the stub into his pocket. “And I’m just doing my job! Like I said, TV can fix anything and everything! It’s what I do!” He continued. “And there’s still a lot TV has to offer!”
Tenna shuffled closer, and Spamton raised a brow. Maybe now that he’d gotten the guy softened up a bit… well, he was starting to come up with an idea on a better offer himself. No car, no new coworkers, but there was one thing Tenna knew he could definitely offer that might be useful, if the Addison’s still bleeding hand and his frustrated ramblings from earlier were anything to go by. “Like… a listening ear?”
“... You don’t have ears.”
Tenna’s antennae curled, like he was trying to roll his eyes. “You know what I mean! I like to think I’m a better listener than a brick wall, and you seem like you’ve got a lot you want off your chest.”
A tense chuckle, then Spamton’s face fell. “... How much of that did you hear?”
Oops… “Um… only a little? Something about proving yourself…?” Tenna rubbed the back of his neck, glancing away. “I wasn’t… eavesdropping!” A bold-faced lie. “Just… it was hard not to overhear, frankly!”
Spamton groaned, rubbing his rapidly flushing face. “Fuck.”
Tenna waved his hands. “No need to get embarrassed! No judgement here!” Spamton peeked at him through his fingers warily, and Tenna hesitated, fidgeting with his bow-tie before leaning in. He hated to admit it, but it was only fair… “Don’t tell anybody, but I get… glooby sometimes, too.”
A tense moment of silence, then Spamton barked out a laugh, hands dropping to cover his mouth rather than his whole face. “Glooby?!”
Tenna’s screen flashed with pink static as Spamton grinned crookedly behind his hand. “Yes, glooby!” He groaned, leaning back as he covered his own face — quite the spectacle the two of them were, blushing like schoolgirls. This better be worth it! “Terrible, I know… please don't tell anyone!”
“I… what???” Spamton spoke between snickers. “What are you talking about?”
Tenna peeked at him through his fingers, brows furrowed. “... You know! Glooby! Like… how you were when I got here!” Or how I was just a little while ago, thinking about how old this crazy city makes me feel… “The opposite of groovy! Which I am, always… when I'm not glooby.”
“When you're not glooby…” Spamton took a deep breath, then let out one last chuckle, dropping his hands from his mouth. “Uh huh. Well, your, uh, secret’s safe with me, Mr. Tenna.”
A staticky sigh of relief, and then Tenna crossed his arms, screen pointed upward. “I’d sure hope so! Considering your’s is safe with me.”
Spamton rolled his eyes. “I don’t know if I’d call it a secret, but alright. Good to know — or, um. Thanks, I guess.”
Tenna looked back down at Spamton who was staring at his shoes again. He had even less of a poker face than Tenna it seemed, though it gave the show host a very easy way of figuring out how the smaller man was feeling, and he could see resignation starting to practically ooze from the salesman again. Tenna softened his smile. “... So, whaddya say?”
Spamton looked up, eyebrows furrowed. “Huh?”
Tenna leaned just a little closer. “About cashing in my Limited Time Offer?”
A pause, then a dismissive scoff. “So you're a shrink too?”
“Could be!” Tenna tipped his hat playfully, antennae bending forward. “And lucky for you, Dr. Tennaville is accepting new patients!”
Spamton shook his head in disbelief, giving Tenna another once over. “... You are something else, Mr. Tenna.”
“Dr. Tennaville.” One of Tenna's antennae bent a little further, the closest he could get to a wink. “And you haven't seen nothin’ yet, dear viewer!”
Spamton looked at his screen, then down at his shoes, then back up at his screen again. “... Well, I ‘preciate the offer, but um–” Spamton gestured vaguely. “Don't you have… anything better going on?”
Not really, and I'm really hinging on this going well so that I can prove I've still got it— “Pshh– oh please, like I said before, it’s my job to help viewers in need, such as yourself.”
“First of all, I don't think I count as a viewer, I've never seen your, um, show?” Spamton chuckled. He was staring up at Tenna now, gaze almost searching — before suddenly looking away, rubbing the back of his neck. At least it was to the side, and not that resigned staring at his shoes routine. “And second of all… I should really get back to work...”
Tenna didn't need to actually be a therapist to know it sounded like the last place he wanted to be. “Oh? Going so soon?”
“I’ve… actually been here for a while,” Spamton admitted, nudging some trash aside with a scuffed shoe. “I think my [union regulated break time] ended, like… a while ago.”
Tenna hummed. Normally he wouldn’t encourage this kind of behavior, but… “Well… what’s a little longer?” His tail swayed playfully. “You clearly need the break, and there’s no better way to relax than with a little TV!”
“I…” Spamton seemed to consider it for a second, before shaking his head. “Nah, I need all the work I can get. I’m already losing money just standing here.”
Tenna’s smile took on more of a desperate edge. Shoot! Tenna, you’re losing him! Um, uh, hm, oh! “Ah, well, how about this?” Tenna piped up, and Spamton raised a brow at his insistence. “Let's walk and talk, eh? Oooh! Better idea, how about you give me a tour? I bet you know your way around!” Spamton opened his mouth to speak, but Tenna beat him to the punch. There’s no way he’ll say no to this! “I'll even pay you! How does that sound?”
“... You drive a hard bargain Mr. Tenna.” Spamton held out a small, faintly glowing hand. “You’ve got yourself a deal. ‘M sure they won’t mind if I’m helping out a [[VIP]].”
Yes! Got him! Still got it! Tenna held himself back from a twirl and a fist-pump. Instead, he reached forward, taking Spamton’s hand in his own, giving it a shake. Boy, his hands are tiny… “Exactly.”
Spamton stared at their joined hands for a second before lifting the other. “Payment upfront, big guy.”
Ah. There’s that classic Addison charm. “Alrighty!” He pulled his hand away and reached into his pocket, pulling out some of what he hadn’t already given to the other Addisons. He dropped the Dark Dollars into Spamton’s waiting hand — he wasn’t sure how much it was, as he was more familiar with Points as a currency. “This should be enough, right?”
Spamton stared at the stack of bills in his hand, eyes wide. “I– uh– yeah. Yeah, that’s enough.” He cleared his throat, blinking rapidly as he pocketed the bills. “[Plenty to go around].”
Thank goodness, Tenna was starting to have quite a light pocket, and he hadn’t even stopped for lunch yet.
”Well–” A breathless laugh, then Spamton flinched, grimacing as he looked up. “Just my luck,” he hissed under his breath.
“Hm–?” Tenna looked up just in time for a fat rain droplet to splat against his screen. “Oh!” A few smaller ones soon followed, and Tenna looked down, raising a hand to shield his screen from further assault.
Spamton didn’t bother, just shaking his head as more rain began to fall — already looking a bit like a wet cat.
“... How about, for the first part of our tour…” Tenna started, a bashful smile projected on his screen. “... We go somewhere nice and dry?” His antennae perked. “Ooh! We can get something to eat!” His tail swung lazily as he reached down, picking up the shopping bags he’d abandoned. “My treat.”
Spamton put his hands on his hips. “Do you feed all your tour guides? Pretty sure it’s usually the other way around.”
Tenna shot him a wry smile. “Do you want free food or not, little salesman?”
“Okay, first of all, never [call 1-800] me that again.” Spamton glared holes into Tenna’s plastic and metal casing. “Second of all, of course I do, don’t ask stupid questions.”
“Then don’t question me and my methods!”
“Yeah, yeah, you’re just making me look bad — the hell are ya payin’ me for? To [point and click] at shit?”
Tenna was pretty sure that was the point of a tour guide, but he digressed. “Your company,” Tenna replied, cheerily. “But here, if it bothers you so much, why don’t you carry these bags for me, hm?”
“I shouldn't've asked,” Spamton drawled before holding his arms out. “Hand ‘em over.”
Tenna handed the bags over — resisting the urge to giggle when Spamton nearly lost his balance. “... Do you need me to take a few–”
“Nope!” Spamton adjusted his grip on the bags, standing tall. “I’ve [got it in blue?]!” He added, pushing past Tenna with a determined if mildly embarrassed look on his face. Tenna covered his smile with his hand before following.
They wandered out of the back alleys Tenna had slipped into for solace and back into the neon smear of the city streets. Tenna shrunk an inch or two, but mostly kept his composure. He was doing well! He had an absolutely enraptured viewer right now! He was doing a perfect job interacting with this city! Tenna tried to focus on the short Addison stumbling in front of him, arms full of shopping bags with a face not too unlike his own branded on them. An Addison who'd been cursing him out just a few minutes ago. After a few minutes of walking in the lightly drizzling rain, as Spamton pointed out the occasional notable landmark, Tenna spoke up. “So, where are we headed, little chaperone?”
Spamton grimaced, shooting Tenna a dirty look. “Call me little again and I’m dropping these in a puddle.” He shook the shopping bags for emphasis.
Tenna chuckled. Now that they were past the initial hostility, he was actually starting to find this brash attitude… a bit refreshing, for lack of a better word? Endearing, even? Not a lot of people in the studio would dare take that tone with him, but here was this little darkner, talking like they were on equal footing. “But you are little!”
“No, you’re just huge,” Spamton retorted, turning away again.
“Well, everything's bigger on TV!” Tenna considered pointing out Spamton’s height compared to the other Addisons, but considering what he’d gathered about his opinion of them so far… he thought better of it and bit his tongue. “And, could you at least answer my question?”
“What? Oh, [rite]–” Spamton cleared his throat. “We’re going to a Cyber Grill.”
Tenna’s antennae twitched. “Cyber Grill? I feel like I’ve seen that name before…”
“You probably have, they’re all over the city,” Spamton explained. “Food’s good, and not too [extra charges may apply]. Classic chain kinda place.”
Tenna smiled. “Ah, so you’re taking the Mr. Ant Tenna to a chain restaurant?”
It was meant as a lighthearted tease, but Spamton stopped in his tracks, looking up at Tenna with wide eyes. “Oh. Shit, sorry– um. We can [Go! Go! Go!] somewhere, uh, fancier I’m just not sure they’ll let me in—?”
Tenna held up his hands placatingly. Boy, this guy’s jumpy! “Joking! I was joking!” He leaned down. “I’m very excited to try the grill.” Tenna paused, Spamton’s frantic words slowly settling between his antennae. “... Wait, what did you say about them letting you in–?”
“Lets [get it started] going!” Spamton interrupted loudly, turning back around as he started walking again. “Don’t want all this shit you bought to get soggy, [righty tighty]?”
Tenna’s smile dropped a little, and he hesitated for a second before following. He supposed needling the salesman could wait just a bit longer. “... Of course!”
They walked in silence the rest of the way, Spamton nearly jogging to stay ahead as they made their way through busy streets, gently battered by the rain. Thankfully, it didn’t take long for them to reach the aforementioned Cyber Grill, and Spamton slipped through the front door with little hesitation, Tenna following suit. A bell above the door jingled as they entered.
Thankfully, while business was clearly going well, it wasn’t too busy. After shaking himself off by the front door like a dog (cute!), Spamton made a beeline straight for a booth, setting Tenna’s shopping bags on the far end of a seat before settling into the one opposite it. Tenna followed, albeit slowly, taking in the decor as he slid into the seat next to his regrettable impulse purchases. “This is nice, very…” Tenna squinted at the bright light above them, dusting off his damp suit. “Neon!”
“Most things in Cyber City are,” Spamton replied, grabbing a menu from where they were tucked in a little box on the side. Like everything here, it glowed as Spamton unfolded it. Tentatively, Tenna grabbed one for himself — small at first, it seemed to register the size of its customer and suddenly grew.
“Oh!” Tenna jumped, before smiling and unfolding the menu. “Isn’t that neat?”
Spamton glanced up. “I ‘spose so. That’s pretty par for the course though, most everything here is made to adjust according to its user.”
Damn, everything about this city made him want to shrink a little. How was he supposed to compete with that–? No, nope, no thinking that way. TV is forever! All this shiny tech is just… a fad! Yes, a fad. Still, in the meantime… “Well, ain’t that just hunky doody!” Tenna fidgeted in his seat. “I was worried I was gonna have to read that tiny text, it strains my screen.”
Spamton chuckled, pointing to the bright light dangling above them. “I think you’ll find that small text will be the least of your screen’s worries, Mr. Tenna.”
“Oh please,” Tenna waved a hand. “I’m a seasoned TV, I can take some bright lights.” He flipped through the menu as he spoke. There was food both familiar and not, but it was hard to keep track as it seemed to flip through options on its own at a faster rate than he could keep up with, like a TV screen rapidly flipping through channels. And here Tenna was thinking the size was going to be the problem. These things should come with an epilepsy warning… “These bad boys are nothing compared to the spotlights on the TV Time!! stage.”
Spamton continued to browse his menu. “Maybe that's why small text strains your screen,” he snarked.
“That's show business for you!” Tenna laughed, dropping the dizzying menu as he leaned forwards. “It’s just the price for bringing my lightners the quality entertainment they deserve!”
“Right.” Spamton set down his menu, leaning on the table with his elbows as well. “And ya sure do like payin’ for things, don't ya? Not a very effective business strategy, if you ask me.”
“Well, that's because I don't run a business, the show is my life!” Tenna posed for added effect. “My pride and joy, my purpose! The studio my home, and the lightners my most precious family!”
Spamton looked like he was about to say something when the waiter walked over. A plugboy wearing a branded apron and carrying a little pixelated notepad. They swiftly introduced themself, so swiftly in fact that Tenna could barely register what they were saying. Spamton seemed unfazed, responding with his order just as rapid fire — something about ja… va…? They both turned to Tenna like anything they'd just said was comprehendable.
Tenna's screen flickered. “Um… I’ll have what he's having!”
The plugboy nodded, jotting something down in their notebook before leaving just as quickly as they had come. When Tenna turned back to Spamton, he was fiddling with what appeared to be a sugar packet.
“... You sure care about those lightners of yours, huh?”
Tenna furrowed his brow. “Why, of course I do!” He clasped his hands together, sighing dreamily. “They're my purpose! My family! I exist to keep them entertained, to keep them happy! Isn't it the same for you?” Tenna recalled Queen's brief exclamations about the lightners herself. She had a lot more connections than Tenna did, but she seemed to share a similar vigor for bringing joy. Surely that must apply to the rest of Cyber City’s citizens as well?
Spamton squirmed in his seat, gaze darting around. “Um, well. Addisons don't really… I mean. Sort of? It's– hm– well I guess there's– oh thank god.”
Two mugs of piping hot coffee (ohhh, java = coffee, Tenna got it!) and two baskets of fries were dropped off in front of them. Incredibly fast service! Tenna's employees could stand to learn a thing or two.
The food and drink hardly hit the table before the plug boy waiter was gone again and Spamton was shoving fries into his mouth. Coffee and fries… an interesting lunch choice, but Tenna's had his fair share of strange, quick meals between shoots.
Tenna watched Spamton chug coffee with a giggle. “Well, you sure are hungry, aren't you? You’re gonna get sick at this rate.”
Spamton swallowed loudly. “Oy, cut me some slack, I gave you my lunch to try to get you to leave earlier.”
Tenna's screen blinked. “You… gave me…?” He suddenly remembered the limp weight of an expired shoe sample in his pocket. “That old shoe?”
Spamton nodded without further explanation, before jamming more fries into his mouth.
Huh. Tenna took a few tentative bites of his own fries. They were nice — no deluxe dinner, but what else was he expecting from a chain restaurant? The coffee was much the same, though it seemed… surprisingly close to how he liked his own made. Interesting. He turned back to Spamton who was halfway to shoveling more food into his mouth. “So… you wanna talk it out now?
Spamton blinked. “... You're still hung up on that?”
Tenna put on his most pathetic pout. “Of course I am! What, is it so strange to be worried about my audience?”
Spamton’s cheeks flushed, vibrant red on stark white. “It ain’t anything to worry about [[cathode]]– ahem. Mr. Tenna.”
Pointing, Tenna retorted, “Spamton, with all due respect, your hand is still bleeding.”
“Wha–?” For supposedly the first time, somehow, Spamton gave his knuckles a proper once over, muttering “shit,” under his breath before wiping his hand on his pants. He grimaced at the new stains, then looked back up at Tenna. “... So, you [see something, say something] that too, huh?”
Tenna nodded solemnly. “Now, c’mon, chatting with a new friend has gotta be better than taking it out on a wall!”
“New–?” Spamton’s eyes blew wide, and he cleared his throat. “Fuckin– fine, sure, whatever. You’re a real pushy guy, Mr. Tenna. Anyone ever tell you that?”
Tenna tapped the side of his monitor. “I like to call it being assertive!”
An eyeroll. “More like stubborn.”
“That's rich coming from you!” Tenna leaned forward slightly. “ C’mon, Spamton. Go on.”
“Uh… fuck, well. It's nothing interesting, just… shitty coworkers, y'know?” Spamton rubbed the back of his neck.
“You did mention that earlier.”
“I did, yeah,” Spamton huffed, dropping his hands back on the table. “Ad work’s competitive. And stupid. And if you don’t tick certain boxes, ya don’t get clicks.” He looked over his scuffed knuckles with a scrunched nose. “And, right now, I–” He grunted. “E-mail doesn’t get as many clicks as the others.”
Tenna’s screen flickered. E… mail? Like– mail? So… he’s a mailman? Wouldn't have been his first guess, but…
“Which means– maybe I'm struggling a little. And cause o’ that those assholes think they can just w-w-[walk all over you]– me.” Spamton was avoiding Tenna’s gaze as he spoke — at some point he’d started fiddling with a napkin, tearing bits off of it periodically. “They were talkin’ today. Banner and Poppy, my coworkers, about some new ad-campaign. Somethin’ about–” He shook his head. “Fuckin’, I don’t even remember, [candles 50% off] or some shit. I asked if I could get in on it.” He slumped forward. “... I was just tryin’ to get in on some good work, and Affy– other, um, coworker– fuck, you know what that jackass said?” Spamton was staring holes into the table. “Said they’d drop out if they let me in. That the campaign was good as dead if I was on it. That I’m just [you're bad for business],” he spat, destroyed napkin lodged between trembling fingers. “And Poppy, she– she agreed. Said she wouldn’t say it [like that] but–” He scoffed. “An’ Banner was useless. Like usual. He tries but–” He shook his head, eyes scrunched closed, then took a deep breath. “...I went off on ‘em, then fucked off. Now ‘m here.” His gaze finally landed on Tenna's screen, and his eyes blew wide. “Woah, big guy– er– why’re you– um. Smaller?”
Tenna straightened in his seat. He hadn't even noticed he'd begun to shrink. He cleared his throat, willing himself back to a more normal size, while Spamton watched the shift with a bewildered expression. “Oh, ignore that! Just–” His antennae drooped without his input. “They really said all of that to you?”
Spamton blinked a few times. “Um, yeah. But, it's– that shit’s normal. Par for the [golf course]. Everyone in this damn city’s competitive, and I’ve said my fair share of [Nasty] shit.” His tone seemed to be going for reassuring, but his words didn't make Tenna feel any better. “It was just the last straw today, I guess. So don't–” He squirmed. “Stop lookin’ at me like that.”
Tenna tilted his monitor, antennae wobbling. “Like what?”
“Like a– like a kicked Poppup or somethin’.” Spamton waved his hands. “It's no big deal. It's not even the worst thing that [50¢ bubblegum] prick has said to me. And the others are just…” Bubblegum… huh? “It’s not worth my time, so it definitely ain't worth yours.”
Tenna frowned. “Not worth my–? But–”
Spamton shook his head sharply, holding up a finger. “Nuh-uh, none of that shit matters. Whether I'm your valued [viewers like you], or whatever you were gonna say, or not.” Spamton leaned forward, suddenly putting on a crooked, wobbly grin. “And y'know why?”
Well, he should prod more, but now Tenna was curious about where this was going. He slowly tilted his head. “... Why?”
“Cause I'm gonna be big.”
Tenna leaned back, antennae perked. “... Big?”
“I think I said that earlier too, yeah?” Spamton tilted his head. “Well, I meant it. I might not be much to write home about now, but I’m gonna change that. Just you wait and see.” As he spoke, something glinted in his eyes. Something intense. Manic, almost? It felt familiar. “I’m meant for more, I just know it. Like, in my code.” Spamton gestured towards himself, hands landing on his chest, where his black v-neck gave way to white fluff. Those words felt familiar too.
“All I need is to keep working, and then I’m gonna find it. My big break. It’s gonna happen any day now, so none of that shit matters alright?” Spamton stood up in his seat. He was still a bit shorter than Tenna, even now, but they were closer to the same level.
“It doesn’t matter if no one else gets it, cause I do.” His words felt almost rehearsed. Tenna couldn't help the images that flitted behind his screen, of him standing before his crew, arms crossed. The subtitles read something almost identical to Spamton's words — profanities notwithstanding. Tenna's screen flickered as something like excitement thrummed under his casing. He leaned forwards a little without even meaning to. This guy gets it! He really gets it!
Without warning, Spamton crawled onto the table, pushing his plate to the side. “It doesn’t matter if I’m bad for business or– or a shitty Addison. Cause I’m gonna be more.” Small, white hands landed on Tenna’s lapels, a wide grin and glowing skin illuminated further by Tenna’s own light. He allowed himself to be pulled closer, a giddy little thought flickering behind his screen that he could use someone like this on his crew. Someone who wanted to be more, just like he did. So what if he wasn't as flashy as modern tech? Tenna was going to– “I’m gonna be a big shot.”
And then, just as quickly as it had appeared, that manic glint in Spamton’s eyes flickered. He looked down to where he'd scrambled over the table, at his hands bunched up in Tenna's coat, then back up at Tenna, whose screen was mere inches from his face. Tenna could feel the Addison’s digital skin beginning to buzz pleasantly against the static of his screen.
Spamton flinched backwards, face bright red. “Ha! I mean–!” An endearing, anxious cackle slipped from him as he scrambled back to his side of the table. He dropped awkwardly into his seat, scrambling slightly when he nearly knocked his drink down with him. Tenna quickly reached forward to steady it with his hand, and got a grateful smile in between chuckles. “What I– what I mean is–”
“Well, well, well. Look who it is!”
Tenna didn't think Spamton's face could get any redder, but it did. Every bit of hair was standing on end, shoulders hiked up. Tenna turned to the vaguely familiar, melodic voice that triggered the reaction.
Two Addisons — one pink, one blue, both sleek and faintly glowing — were rapidly approaching their table. The pink one closed the distance first, grinning that signature grin as they leaned against the table. The blue one hesitated a few paces back, smile slightly stressed at the edges.
“Mr. Tenna!” The pink one crooned, turning their closed-eyed gaze to Tenna's screen. “I believe we met before?”
Tenna “met” a lot of Addisons when he first got here, so it was a little hard to keep track, but this one did seem… familiar? He couldn't remember their name for the life of him, though. “Oh! Uh, yes! I think so!”
“Mhm.” They turned to Spamton, who appeared to be trying to melt into his booth. “I see you've met our coworker Scamton!”
“Spamton,” the man in question hissed through grit teeth, pointedly avoiding their gaze.
The pink Addison laughed. “Right, right. Well, either way, my friend Banner and I–” They gestured toward their blue colleague. That name sure sounded familiar! Wasn’t that someone Spamton was just talking about? “Couldn't help but overhear this little guy giving you his famous Big Shot speech!”
“Famous…?” Tenna looked back to Spamton, whose legs had curled up into his seat.
“Oh, yes,” they continued with a sharp grin. “He pulls that one out every time he's got nothing to show for himself at the end of a quarter!” They tilted their head. “Which is every quarter.”
Banner finally spoke up. “Affy–”
Tenna straightened in his seat. Oh. So this is Affy.
Affy barreled on. “You see, a few of us Addisons like to meet up at this very Cyber Grill! We talk about our numbers, his lack thereof, we pay for his food and drinks, and he swears up and down he’ll pay us back once he's a…” A dramatic pause, one Tenna would appreciate were it not for the way Affy’s words were making his casing crawl. “You guessed it! A Big Shot!”
Tenna waited for Spamton to bite back with something snarky or snide, maybe shoot one of his killing looks at them. Instead, Spamton wrapped his arms tighter around himself and said, “I'm gonna pay y'all back–”
Affy steamrolled him, snapping back into more proper Addison posture. “I think all the regulars at this place have heard that speech a hundred times by now!” Their smile never shifted, but it seemed crueler than it did when they first approached — and when they'd pawned a glittery pair of shoes on Tenna earlier. Yeah, he was remembering this one now, for all the wrong reasons. “And yet nothing ever comes of it!”
Spamton's mouth snapped shut.
Affy turned back to Tenna, demeanor unwavering despite the fact that Tenna's screen had long since flickered off — a cue any of his employees would've taken to mean they should stop talking effective immediately. “Let me guess, he's got you paying for him, too?” They laughed again, like recently manicured nails on a pristine chalk board. “A highly valuable customer, and this little guy thinks he can sell you on a pipe dream!”
Banner closed the gap, resting a hand on Affy’s shoulder. “Af, come on, that's–”
They slapped Banner’s hand away without so much as a glance in his direction. They didn't need to look, because the blue Addison was cowed by the slap alone, mouth snapping shut with a pout — the first thing other than a slightly strained smile Tenna had seen on any Addison’s face other than Spamton's.
Affy's smile, meanwhile, didn't so much as twitch. “Well, Mr. Tenna, no need to waste anymore of your time here. Banner and I have actually got some offers we think a real Big Shot like you might be interested in!” Banner’s tentative smile returned as he shot Spamton what Tenna assumed was meant to be an apologetic look. Spamton didn’t acknowledge it, scowling as he picked at a seam on his neon green pants.
It seemed despite his persistence, this Banner fella wasn't actually going to commit to ending this conversation. Tenna frowned.
Affy continued. “So…”
Did Tenna really have to do everything around here?
“What do you say–?”
“ACTUALLY!” Tenna slapped a hand on the table, his volume perhaps a bit higher than it needed to be — not to mention a word that bland didn't need to be emphasized so heavily, but these were special circumstances. He knew it would get the other Addisons’ attention — and it did. Affy’s mouth finally snapped shut, though their expression didn't falter. Banner openly winced.
Finally, Tenna was back where he deserved to be — center stage. He smiled, turning to his co-star, who was staring right back at him, white fluff on end and eyes wide. It seemed his outburst had startled Spamton as well. Collateral damage, Tenna supposed — though, at least he looked a little less red. Tenna leaned forward theatrically, resting his monitor on gracefully poised hands. “Mr. Spamton and I were just talking business! Isn't that right, friend?”
“Huh?” Spamton was staring up at his name sparkling mid-air, starstruck. “Oh, uh, business. Right, uh, yeah? We were?”
Well, he'd flubbed the line delivery a tad, but Tenna did put the poor man on the spot. They could work on his improv skills later. “Indeed. As I was saying, before we were interrupted…” A pointed glance to the two Addisons still crowding their booth. “I love your gusto, Mr. Spamton!” He leaned back, opening his arms. “Bold and ambitious! You’re like me, and folks like us are destined for great things. You said you were a mailman, yes?”
“Um. E-mail. But sure, let's go with that?” Spamton chuckled breathlessly, as his colleagues watched the exchange in bewilderment. He was still refusing to look at them, but Tenna took pride in his screen being the subject of his attention rather than the table or his pants.
“Great!” This oughta really get their attention — it was a passing thought a few minutes ago, but why not act on it? “What'd you say to working with us folks over at TV Time, hm?” He tilted his screen, smile unchanging. Tenna trusted his gut, and his gut was telling him… “We could use a mailman.”
Spamton's jaw dropped — as did Affy and Banner’s in the corner of Tenna's vision. Spamton all but launched from his seat, slapping his hands on the table as he leaned forwards. “I– wh– you– [Reels]– really?!”
“Ha! Of course really, Mr. Spamton!” Tenna leaned back in his seat “From our time together I think you'd be an incredibly valuable asset as both our mail guy and a consultant.”
Affy gawked, and their voice rang out at the same time Spamton's did. “A consultant?!”
Tenna resisted the urge to giggle. “Mhm! We could use someone who knows their way around all this modern, flashy tech. And I think you'd be just the man for the job!”
“I– [eye], [aye aye] don’t– I mean–!” Spamton shook his head, before sitting back down with a decisive little thump! He cleared his throat, replacing his gobsmacked expression with a wobbly smile. “Of course! I'd be honored, Mr. Tenna!”
Tenna waved him off. “Oh please, just call me Tenna! And I'm honored. Truly.” Slowly, intentionally, Tenna turned back to the gawking Addisons — though, to give Banner some credit, he actually appeared a bit excited, a welcome contrast to Affy’s offended bewilderment. “Now, what was it you wanted again?”
Affy startled. “Well– I– khm.” They shook themselves, regaining their composure with practiced ease. “I apologize for interrupting you and my… colleague… Tenna–”
“Mr. Tenna.”
“I’m sorry?”
Tenna’s smile widened. “It’s Mr. Tenna, if you don’t mind?”
Affy’s eye twitched. “... Mr. Tenna. It appears I must have misjudged the situation, valued customer.” Affy clasped their hands together, smile bright and artificial. “You’ll have to pardon my behavior. I was perhaps a little overzealous in trying to ensure customer satisfaction! I’m sure you understand.”
“Sure!” Tenna tapped the table. “Is that all, then?”
Tenna saw their tail lash, just once, before calming back down again. “... Yes. Banner here and I will go on and let you two continue your… negotiations. We wish you the best, Mr. Tenna– oh, and don’t hesitate to give us a call if you find yourself in need of more help. I believe you still have our business card?”
If he did, it was probably in one of these shopping bags, and would surely find a home in the nearest trash can the next chance he got. ”Of course. Though I don’t see that happening.”
Spamton’s jaw dropped, and with no further preamble, Affy spun on their heel, grabbing Banner on the shoulder as they strutted straight out of the grill. Banner just managed to shoot what Tenna assumed was supposed to be a congratulatory grin in Spamton’s direction, paired with a thumbs up, before the salespeople were out of sight.
Tenna turned back to Spamton, a grin on his screen that Spamton was quick to match. What entailed was both the world’s giddiest and shortest staring competition, before they both dissolved into giggles.
“Holy shit Mr. Tenna. You’re insane.” Spamton’s tone made it sound like the highest compliment.
Tenna slicked back his antennae as he beamed, screen bright. “You haven’t seen anything yet! There’s more where that came from! And, really, just Tenna is fine!”
Spamton shook his head, crossing his arms. “Well, Tenna, you play a complete jackass like a pro.”
“Alright, well, no need to put it like that.”
“I don’t know how else to describe that insanely passive aggressive behavior!” Spamton cackled, leaning back in his booth, arms splayed out now. It was like he couldn’t keep his hands still. “I never thought Af would meet their match in bitching.”
“Now, now.” Tenna pointed at the salesman, putting on a performative pout. “You’re going to need to work on that foul mouth of yours Mr. Spamton. My studio has standards, you know!”
Spamton went still. “... Right. Holy– yeah. You mean– that wasn’t just for show?”
“Of course not! I’m a man of my word!” Tenna placed a hand on his chest. “I meant everything I said, Spamton. Though, we may want to do a proper interview first, for formalities sake. Let you meet my second-in-commands before we put anything to paper.” A tilted monitor and slanted antenna in lieu of a wink. He was sure the Weather were going to love him — and, as their designated mailman, perhaps they'd even love making him a special uniform– later! “But I know potential when I see it, and you’ve got a whole lot of it.”
Spamton slowly sat up straight, gaze flitting over Tenna’s screen. “You mean… the whole big shot thing really didn’t put you off–?”
“Are you kidding?!” Tenna lunged forwards, taking both of Spamton's smaller hands into his own. The table shook between them. “No, no! I understand you completely!”
And just like that, Spamton's face was cherry red again — that faint little glow he shared with the rest of the Addisons seemed to be on full blast as well. “I– whuh?”
“You get it! Finally, someone gets it!” Tenna laughed, wiggling a bit in his seat. “That ambition, that drive for more! I’ve never met anyone else who got close to matching my own!” He could see it in his employees eyes, in their work — their hearts weren't in it the same way his was. “But you, I can tell you’re just as passionate as I am. My studio could use more of that energy– and we really could use a… modern consultant of some kind.” As much as Tenna loathed to admit it — but he could stomach it as long as it felt like it was his idea, which it was! No one told him what his studio needed but himself! And… maybe it did need a little something different. Besides, Tenna was sure he could handle it if the different it needed was Spamton — he had a lot of good feelings about the gob-smacked salesman sitting in front of him.
Spamton's mouth opened and closed a few times. “Well, I’ll do my best, mis– er, Tenna. I can at least promise a good mail job, I’ve got lots of experience there.” A pair of awkward finger guns shot in Tenna's direction. “You can count on me!”
Tenna shot some of his own right back. “I’d imagine!” He leaned forwards, setting a hand on Spamton's shoulder. Spamton went a little tense. “And don’t sell yourself short, you’ve been a lovely tour guide, I’m sure you’ll be a lovely consultant as well.”
Spamton visibly gulped, blinking rapidly. “... I’ve barely done any tour guiding?”
Tenna shrugged, leaning back. “Well, you’ve done plenty enough for me to see you’ve got what it takes!”
Spamton chuckled. “... Well, if you [Say So].” He fiddled with the collar of his baggy, black shirt, showing off more of that iridescent white fluff. “When do I start?”
Tenna was never a patient man. “As soon as possible, preferably! Here– my business card.” He reached into his breast pocket — more for flair than anything, the card materializing in his hand, before he handed it over to an awe-struck Spamton. “Give us a ring tomorrow and we’ll let you know when to come in! That way you’ll have plenty of time to prepare, and we can get things rolling quickly.”
Spamton stared at the business card, hand trembling slightly. “[Tomorrow]? Well– alright. Okay. I look forward to it. And, um. Thanks.”
A giddy, fuzzy feeling bubbled in his chest as Spamton looked up with him with that small, earnest smile. He could get used to that expression, and hoped he would. It was a nice look on the salesman compared to that rictus grin from earlier. “No need to thank me! Now, how about we–”
Beep beep!
Tenna jolted upright, static electricity and a little ring buzzing between his antennae. “Oh dear, one second–” He turned away from Spamton, before pressing a button on the side of his monitor. “Yellow?”
Elnina’s voice buzzed in his processors. Light, airy, and edged with mild concern. “Tenna! Where are you?”
Tenna glanced back at Spamton, who was still staring at Tenna’s business card like it was the most important piece of paper in existence. “I’m out eating lunch. Why?”
“Why?” Elnina didn't sound upset, but she did sound bewildered. ”We need to get back to the studio soon, it’s almost time to start filming the evening specials! We can’t get started without you, you know.”
Tenna's brows raised and he looked down at his watch — sure enough! Goodness gracious, had he really been out that long? “Oh! Whoopsies, lost track of time, Elnina! I’ll be right there, promise!” He took his hand off the button, standing from his seat as he gathered his shopping bags in his arms. Spamton watched his sudden movements with slightly widened eyes. Tenna shot him an apologetic smile. “Sorry, Spamton, I’m afraid I’m going to have to cut our outing short, duty calls.” He reached back into his pocket and pulled the last of his Dark Dollars out, dropping them on the table. “Here, this should cover the bill for the food, yes?”
An incredulous expression quite similar to when Tenna paid him earlier. “Uh, yeah–”
Tenna straightened, tipping his hat. “Great! Well, you enjoy the rest of your day, and I’ll see you tomorrow! We look forward to hearing from you~!”
Spamton tucked the business card into his pants-pocket. “Yeah, yeah! Of course! I wouldn't miss it for the world.”
Wouldn't miss it for the world! What a charmer. Tenna didn't even try to hold himself back from twirling in place this time, antennae curling above his monitor. “Fantastic!”
Spamton chuckled at the over the top display, eyebrows furrowing. “Yeah, well–”
Elnina's voice crackled through Tenna’s head again and he jumped. “Tenna, we need to hurry–!”
“Ah, oops, really gotta go now!” Tenna interrupted, then turned on his heels. “We'll talk soon, yeah?” Spamton nodded dumbly as Tenna jogged towards the exit of the Cyber Grill, still facing the salesman best he could. He gave his best flourish of a wave then, “See you later Spam!”
Spamton's eyes went wide, and he looked like he was about to say something, face illuminated by neon lights — and then Tenna was back in the hustle and bustle of Cyber City. Only hesitating for a moment,Tenna swiftly started to make his way down winding sidewalks, shooting a few glances to the Grill up until it was out of sight again. Then, his gaze wandered to the towering skyscrapers and fast cars.
Interestingly, what was overwhelming only minutes ago, didn't feel quite as daunting as before… well. Okay maybe it still was, but…! Now he could walk with the confidence of a TV who just scored a deal with one of these futuristic darkners. And not only that, he had brought some classic TV Time!! joy to them as well. And they say TV is old-fashioned, ha! Take that Cyber City!
He basked in that feeling for all of 10 minutes before he realized he had no clue where he was going, and slowed his aimless pace. He was beginning to wish he’d asked for just a little more of that tour guide experience he paid for.
Tenna gently clicked the button on the side of his monitor, antennae buzzing as they picked up the frequency he wanted. “... Um, Elnina?”
“Yes?”
“Where… exactly are you all?”
“Oh! Um…”
Thankfully, it didn't take long for Tenna to reunite with his crew under the Weather’s guidance, and he was able to regain the pep in his step. They were crowded around a street corner, and Tenna slipped his way to the front of the crowd his crew had made, clapping his hands. “Alrighty folks! Let's get this show on the road!”
Tenna was greeted by wide eyes from the various darkners — most of all Elnina and Lanino, who swiftly took their spot beside him. He basked in the surprised responses to his groovy demeanor, especially as his second-in-commands started to coo over him: they were just so worried this city would get you down, and so happy to see you in such high spirits, and you simply must tell us all about your adventure alone today, surely something special had happened? Why, you look like the commercial that caught the timeslot!
Tenna grinned, and promised an explanation and a surprise when they got back to the studio — which had Elnina and Lanino, as well as some eavesdropping Pippins, whispering excitedly among themselves. Tenna grinned. They had no clue, how quaint! They would soon, of course. He was drafting the grand announcement for when they made it back to the studio as they approached the edge of the city, all about how he had not only secured them a mailman, but a modern consultant.
He was sure the Weather would be ecstatic — Lanino in particular. Tenna could already see the drafts for a mailman uniform Lanino would draw up. Surely something dapper, and classic — he may not be a performer, but they still had standards! At the very least something that fits him better than his current uniform, and maybe with a slightly less revealing neckline or– hm. Tenna was so lost in thought about it that he did, in fact, trip over a few of his employees once or twice. Which wasn't his fault! They should know better than the crowd around his legs like that! But that was besides the point.
As TV World rose into view over the horizon, technicolor lights fading into a more familiar inky darkness, Tenna couldn't help but think that his own future was looking even brighter than that silly city they were leaving behind. Especially with the contract clauses he was already coming up with in mind.