Chapter Text
- FRIDAY - DEC 20th -
Spamton shifted, letting a foggy breath coat the Cungaderos window. Cyber City was never known for its weather, they barely had anything other than rain. But, on cold winter days, the Light Worlds cold would seep into Cyber City's.
"God damnit..." Spamton tilted himself away from the window, letting out a brief shiver.
He was freezing.
He could always, of course, turn on the vehicle, or even the seat warmer, but he'd already arrived at the mansion. All he had to do was walk about 10 steps and he'd be inside. But for some insistent reason, he's choosing to stay in his car cursing himself out in the cold.
As much as he loved Tenna, that bastard knew how to push his buttons. Every little thing he'd get upset over. Saying things like "You NEVER listen to me!", "I've done so much for you, I deserve to know!", and worst of all "You must hate me, don’t you..?".
Each and every time it'd end up spurring into some argument. And by the end of it, Tenna would make it about the phone, or the contract. He couldn't take it anymore, so Spamton had stormed off to Cyber City for the weekend.
He wasn’t obligated to work weekends, so it wasn’t like he had to stay.
Spamton was seething again recalling it. His hands gripped tightly against the dark brown leather of the wheel, practically burning as he dragged them lower.
A low grumble left his lips as he complained to nobody in particular. "What's the point of all this shit? I should've been outta that dump ages ago!"
But of course, he can't bring himself to leave. He knows that. Despite all the arguments, the threatening, the tension, he'd manage to find himself caring about that dumbass TV.
Without Spamton, he'd lose his fame.. and some stupid part of Spamton didn't want to see that happen.
Finally, he'd push the 'dero's door open. The cold air quickly brushed past him, forcing him to pull his jacket tighter.
He could sulk about this once he has a glass of acid in his hands.
With a swift breath, he began to walk towards the mansions entrance.
He padded along the soft velvet red carpet leading to the large double doors. The moment he pushed opened the doors, he felt a momentary release as the heat instantly dissipated the cold from his feathers. He hadn’t even noticed how puffed up they were around his neck from the cold…
he was sure to pat them flat before heading inside the mansion.
The main lobby wasn’t too big. A carpet covering blue tile, stairs in the middle leading off to the left and right sections of the castle, and a hallway to the right leading to the basement.
It was all made to frame Queens absurdly large mech, stood just behind the stairs in the center of the room.
For a moment, he gazed over to the left. Just below the stairs was the entrance to the cafe.
He considered stopping by, but the thought of having to speak to Swatch gave him the shivers.
He didn’t mind the guy. In fact, he’d consider them friends! But Swatch was always too… formal. It often left Spamton more upset than when he’d entered.
With that thought squashed, he took another glance around the lobby. There was Plugboys, and two Yes Man’s chatting it up near the stairs.
It was the weekend, so it wasn't unusual to see people visiting the Queens mansion for one of the various parties she tended to host.
He wasn’t sure he could even manage a conversation right now without bitching about something, so he walked off to the left, trying to brush past any guests and up the stairs to the residential wing of the mansion.
Thankfully, everyone seemed too busy with each other to pay Spamton any mind as he shuffled past and made his way up the stairs and down the long hallway.
It was already late, so the lights were dimmed here, and there wasn’t any staff. It made the hallway far more ominous than it had any right being.
The long hallway seemed to stretch near indefinitely from the dark. Passing by a few empty dining tables and darkened windows before finally, he made it to the rooms.
Each of the doors was the same dark burgundy wood, and each bore an engraving of Queens face upon it.
He instinctively walked to the same door he always had.
The door creaked into the quiet room, everything was right where he had left it last week.
Piles of unfinished paperwork, dirty clothes tossed here and there, and his only thing of real value; an out of date, black rotary phone sat just beside his sofa.
He tugged at the side of his jacket, forcefully pulling his glance away from the phone, dragging out a breath as he did so.
Following the tug of his jacket he instead pushed the movement into pulling it off his shoulders, tossing it with the rest of his forgotten clothes.
He'd get a Swatchling to wash it later.
He wasted no time slipping into the kitchen and opening a cabinet he grabbed himself a bottle of acid, not bothering with a glass.
This stuff was strong, and frankly disgusting. He wasn't sure why he even drank this shit at all. It wasn't like it was enjoyable, all it managed to do was keep himself distracted for a minute or two while his throat burned.
Tenna had never been fond of Spamton drinking it. Acid wasn't necessarily good in any way. He couldn't even consume it without it being diluted to hell and back. Unless he wanted to burn a hole through his stomach...
Which he's considered more than once.
Tenna would always fuss over how bad it was, or how he shouldn't be getting drunk on work days. Spamton could practically hear him now, making some snide comment over it.
He scoffed at the thought. He took a quick sip, shivering from the brief burn before moving back to the living room.
He tossed himself down onto the left side of the dark blue sofa and pulled his legs up and adjusted until his back was against the armrest.
It wasn't very comfy, but it'd do.
He took a long drink from the bottle before carefully placing it on the side table beside the rotary phone.
His eyes lingered on the phone for a moment too long before flicking to the small pile of papers sat beside it.
He knew what they were before he had even read them. Sponsorship offers, and a bit of fanmail for TV Time™.
He was meant to look over them weeks ago, but both he and Tenna had been too busy this last week with the holiday specials he’d forgotten.
They were pointless to go over now, what with most of the ad slots already filled. Meaning, he didn't necessarily need nor want to do any of this, but it helped keep his mind from wandering much...
...And honestly, he’d do anything to keep his thoughts away from that horrible, gut twisting feeling of guilt and anger whenever he thought of Tenna.
He sighed, pulling the papers in front of him and reaching for another drink of acid.
It wasn’t like he got much sleep with the nightmares and insomnia he’d been riddled with these past months anyways.
So, he got himself settled for a night of drinking- no, working himself away.