Chapter Text
Things are quiet. And things are pretty nice, all things considered. He's not sure what's gonna happen in the future, but at least things are pretty nice right now. Mellow exhales as he looks up at the pretty blue sky, his shoes tapping on the front porch's stairs where he sat.
Things aren't as... well, completely awful anymore. It's very cool.
"Oh, Melloooow!" Well- it's not too quiet. But, like, in a good way. Still startled him, though. He turns to meet the eyes of a yellow bear near the front door. She's become something like a younger older sister to him.
"Lunch's coming up, y'know," Beartha says, sing-song as she steps up and puts her hands on the railing, leaning forwards to look to him. "Can't have you missin' it! Gotta get more food in that stomach of yours." She said it playfully, though he did feel a little inconvenienced by the reminder. It was true, but still. Waugh.
"Okayyyy..." His head tilts, and he looks to the side.
Beartha giggled. "Good! Don't keep us waiting!"
Might as well just go in now. Didn't see a reason why not. Up on his feet he went, while Beartha was already going for the door, and--
The porch flooring itself seemed to bump him, making him loose balance and fall flat on his face. Ouch.
"Woah-!" He hears Beartha exclaim. She must've felt that too. First thing he saw lifting his head up was her trying to help him. "What was up with that? You couldn't even take a single step!" She huffs, checking him for any cuts or scratches or splinters.
"I'm alright, I'm alright." He bats her hands off his cheeks before getting back up. That did hurt a bit, but it's not like he got a broken nose or anything. Not bleeding. Probably. He didn't feel anything stinging or sharp.
"Hmph. You're a tough cookie, Mellow." Beartha commented right before she focused on inspecting the floor under them. His gaze briefly scanned his surroundings, and didn't really see anything.
He decided to just go inside. That was Beartha's business, he thought, even if it hit him harder than it hit her. It was probably fine. Maybe he just... uuuh... tripped, or something. "Wuh- hey, wait up!!" Ah, okay. Never-mind, then.
He went to the kitchen first-thing. Food was made in there, after all. He found both Ticketo (weird calling him that, since he used to just call him 'the jester guy that likes girls' in his head) and Mirianne in there. Made sense. The former liked cooking things, and the latter was practically addicted to sorting and logging things. That included food. Speaking of, she was muttering something about how it 'doesn't make sense' and 'where could it have gone?', while staring at her clipboard.
"Hey, kid." Ticketo greeted him, to which he waved in response. Hi. "You came for something to eat?" He nodded. Yeah. He noted that nothing seemed to be in the making, and there were no bowls or plates of anything ready.
"Yup. Unfortunately, it's getting postponed for just a bit. Don't worry, it's nothing too bad, just, uh..." He caught Ticketo glancing to Mirianne. "some inventory re-checking." Ooookay.
"I guess you could call it that..." Mirianne finally looks up from whatever was on those papers. Her face was scrunched up, like usual, though it looked a bit more accusatory than just stressed.
"Mellow, have you seen anybody taking any of the food from the fridge today? At all?" Is that what she's going on about? Huh. Not what he expected, that's for sure. On the bright side, it's on-theme??
"Uh-"
"You gotta relax a little, Mirianne. It's a big house, and people take snacks all the time, right?" He didn't think Ticketo cut him off on purpose, no. Whatever.
"A whole bag of bread?" She squints at Ticketo. "And almost half of the milk? Whoever wanted a snack must've been really, really hungry, then." That got him to put his hands up and back off.
...huh. That's weird.
"Sorry. It's just so weird to me." That's what he said!
"We'll just take the sandwiches out of today's lunch, then. I can make something else. Figure it out later." Ticketo shook his head, presumably trying to smooth things over. Mirianne sighed and grumbled.
"Well-"
"Weird things happening all over..." Beartha mumbles from just behind the doorway. She looked lost in thought, previously quiet but now like she might just form some kind of hypothesis.
Mirianne blinks at her. All she could do, before a very familiar scratchy voice interjects.
"Dang right weird things happening all over!" Tip pops up just in the middle of the room. Made Mirianne jump. "Mellow, I think we have another infestation problem or something!" Okay, bold words. At least he had a chance to talk now!
"That's weird, uh-"
"Are you sure? Maybe there's just been some big misunderstanding..." Dangit, Ticketo!! Again, it didn't seem on-purpose, but...!!!
Tip turned so fast, he thought they just might swivel off the floor. "Go tell that to your wifey, that just got bit when she tried sticking her hand back behind the shelves!!" Oh! That did sound familiar to Mellow's own experiences, at least. He witnessed Ticketo's eyes widen, and, out to the living room he went.
Next thing he knew, Tip was dragging him back outside again. "I dunno about you, Mellow, but I think I don't wanna see any roaches or rats every again, right?" Tip's voice was significantly more controlled now that they were alone. And close. If not for his stark lack of arms, he would be right under his armpit right now. He felt a bit protective, to be completely honest, but he supposed he can't really. Blame him.
"I'm not sure. It feels, uhh..." His eyes wander around. "It doesn't feel like rats or bugs to me."
"It doesn't?" Tip broke his grumpy face into surprise. "It makes sense to me, Mell. Stealing food, biting people, causing problems..."
...
"...okay, maybe? I can see why, I guess." Tip does what he can only describe as the sign version of a shrug. Oh, thank- um- thank the skies. He was almost about to change his mind. At least Tip has his back!
"Thanks." Mellow taps his fingers on one of his thin wooden posts. For just a moment, he wonders if he could do some kind of echolocation through the whole house and figure out all its ins and outs. Imagination is a funny thing.
"What else could it be, though--?"
Another bump from the floor. He only wobbled this time, as it did feel gentler.
Tip was staring at the floor now, instead of looking at him. "...what."