interstellar5555 | Dance, Dance, REVOLUTION

Entry tags:

Dance, Dance, REVOLUTION

Who: Frisk and OPEN
What: Come bother Frisk at work!
When: Saturday afternoon
Where: Pizza Planet

[A]

Pizza Planet is a big, kid-themed pizza chain, popular for birthday parties. The Vista City location where Frisk works is attached to the mall, and as such is particularly large and extravagant. There's singing animatronics, sure, but the main attraction is the games.

Frisk's job, today, is to restock all the machines with tickets. They're pretty small for a worker. If not for their employee uniform, complete with a little hat, they could easily blend in with the children shouting joyfully and running from game to game. But for the most part they ignore them, focusing on their work. As fun as that would be, making good friends with any kids from here would cause too many problems. They're not sure they could contain themself, if the topic of music ever came up...

They go quietly from machine to machine, opening up a panel on each with a key and loading in a new roll of tickets. Out on the game floor like this, it's not unusual to get approached by customers.

Honestly, it's not entirely unusual for Frisk to just hand some kids a few tickets here and there either. It's against the rules, but it's not like anyone notices. And it makes people so happy!

[B]

They get a break for lunch, but Frisk doesn't really need the full time. They're used to scarfing down their meals fast, and it's a habit that's never fully faded. So they can be found in their street clothes for part of the afternoon, playing Dance Dance Revolution alone in the corner.

As it happens, they are utterly killing it.

The easier songs have long since ceased to be fun, so now they're working their way down from the hardest options. Some kids stop to watch from time to time, but they're largely heedless of any silent onlookers. Their mind is elsewhere.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

“Ah, the ARCADE! Suppose it's as good a place as any to blow off steam, now that that bar won't let me throw darts anymore...”

Admittedly, men with only one eye don't always have the best depth perception. Bill hovers at the entrance and turns to the Virgo security detail tailing after him with a toothy grin.

“How's about I win you a prize, Sparky?!”

The newly dubbed 'Sparky' does not look amused.

“More for me.”

Bill Cipher might not always cut the friendliest figure, but he's certainly chatty enough, and the Vandalism in Progress pin on his hat makes it pretty easy to tell who he is affiliated with. Yeah, he'll be the first to admit as unconventional as he is, he likely isn't the first intended target demographic for this shop, but when places like these are attached to malls, it probably wasn't all that odd to have curious onlookers pass on through. He tosses his hat a couple times, debating on if he is really bored enough to indulge before noticing Frisk. Well, they are in a working uniform, obviously they are here to be bothered. He gives a small wave.

“Hey kiddo, I've been told I need to get my energy out in a less 'destructive fashion than I've been doing' and 'dear god, Bill, just go somewhere, anywhere ELSE'. What do you consider fun in this joint?”

Frisk stops up short. They didn't expect to be approached, especially not by an adult man...entirely alone, except for obvious security. He's a musician too, isn't he? This might be a good thing, if he hadn't brought his guards along.

But running or acting weird would make them more noticeable than not. They consider the question with a serious look, turning to glance around the area. Dance Dance Revolution is their personal favorite. But if his previous hobby was destructive, maybe he'd want something that's a little more...semi-destructive. For now, they point to a nearby machine.

Speaking to a stranger in these circumstances isn't something they want to do. It makes something in their chest freeze up. But the guard is right there, and kids who won't talk are weird. Frisk licks their lips, then elaborates in a quiet voice. "Whack-a-mole."

Fortunately for Frisk, it looks like the security won't be in their face long, or so Bill is trying to contest.

"-Seriously, Sparks, where am I gonna go? You think I'll be taken out by a couple of twelve year olds? Here! Have some collateral-"

It takes some convincing-- and his phone, and wallet and whatever he had in his pockets,-- but eventually the guard takes up sentry outside the shop, giving Bill a short reprieve of freedom inside. Okay, the man is still technically in the room, not like the mall has doors, but with the ambient arcade noise, he is likely out of earshot a short while at least. SCORE!

Honestly, Bill almost wishes he had a plan more befitting that amount of paranoia, other than the slapdash one he just improvised. Oh well. He follows the child's advice, slipping inside towards the Whack A' Mole game, but if they care to follow him, they'll notice he moves right past the machine to rest in the corner. Games are good and all, but on machines they were just too predictable.

"I'll be honest, kid, I could care less what's in here. Just so long as I'm not out there, capische? I mean yeesh, you'd think people here for our 'protection' would feel less like jailors."

Of course that is assuming Frisk is even listening.

"Don't talk much, do ya?"

They're supposed to be working, but that display was definitely interesting enough that Frisk follows the man, right past all the games and over to a corner without any other kids or parents. And then says that. Their expression remains calm and stoic, but they definitely look at Bill for a long, long moment.

It's like he knows. But how would he know to come find them? They recognize that he's from Sans's band, but would Sans have really told anyone?

They shake their head in the negative. Now, there's no reason to speak. They do type on their phone, though, to show him: They don't let you out much?

Bill raises a brow at the phone, but it drops quickly enough. Ah, a 'Celty mach two', are they?
Frisk is right, children who don't talk ARE weird- Bill's proud of them already! He inhales a sigh at the question and twists his mouth in thought, like he can taste the words forming in his mouth.

"Mm, do and don't; FREEDOM'S A TRICKY THING! It's like you can go wherever you want, as long as it's not somewhere you want to go-- Whiiiichinthiscaseismostlymetaphorical- but you get my drift!"

It probably looked odd that Bill was blabbing his life away to some pint sized child- but in all honesty, Bill would have blabbed his life away to whoever would listen. He was an entertainer, having audiences is what he did. Besides! What was age anyway? Humanity was always collectively stupid, age only defined which different things they were stupid about.

"Me, I don't like people knowing what I'm up to- makes me PREDICTABLE, and everything I stand for is against that."

He lifts up his eyepatch to wink his fake glass eye.

"Part of how I got into this business in the first place." He gestures to Frisk.

"I mean you get it, just Look at you: World's smallest employee! Way to break the mold, kid."

Frisk appears entirely unmoved by both the random screaming and the glass eye. In fact, they grin right back at him. What a weird guy! They like it.

I can fit in some of the machines. That might be illegal but it helps. Personally, they have no real issue with climbing into a skeeball machine to retrieve whatever random items some kid flung up in there. They haven't gotten stuck yet! You know there's a loading bay in the back, right? It goes outside.

Look, on the whole, maybe they shouldn't be stirring things up by helping musicians slip away from their keepers. But it's not like they're going to take him home with them. Besides, he's an adult. How were they supposed to stop him when he decided to leave?

At first Bill looks skeptical-

"You askin me to help you play hooky, kid? Not very responsible, World's Smallest Employee--"

-Before he breaks into a big grin.

"COUNT ME IN!"

Bill tips his hat down, and gestures for Frisk to lead. There is no way he'll outwit his security for long, if at all-- and really, a nagging voice in his head is practically stabbing him with the question of 'Why does he want to?' It feels all kinds of uncomfortable, and he winces a moment, but, hell, indulging whims that made sense never was his style, anyway. Doing something just for the sake of doing it was its own reward!

"You know, I kinda work with a shorty too; his name is Sans; swear the guy could practically fit in his own Trombone case."

Frisk grins and turns to lead the way. There's an Employees Only door off to the side of the room, and they make for it quickly, easily weaving through the children darting around the floor. It's hard to talk and walk at the same time when you're not really talking, so they don't reply until they're safe inside the employee area. It's just an empty hallway with a few rooms off to the side. Most people don't spend a lot of time in here; a lot of them just hang out and play games if they happen to be on a break.

I know. Sans is cool. They're not quite comfortable saying that they know him, but any fan out here could recognize Bill and know who his band was. I like the trombone.

The jazz musician surveys the new surroundings with a vague hum of approval, he visibly brightens at the answering comment.

"Ho yeah? Fan of the band, eh? Trombone IS pretty cool- if you LIKE the musical equivalent of a CAR HORN attempting ELOQUANT SPEECH at the bottom of the ocean- I KNOW I DO! Hmm-"

Bill reaches into his lining of his coat for something, belatedly realizing he emptied his pockets just a moment ago to his ever impassive security drone. Clicking his tongue he decides to remove his hat and plop it on Frisk's head.

"Here, BIT OF MERCH- for you, kid!"

He doesn't lean against the wall as much as he allows gravity to take hold and miraculously manages to sticks a proper landing when he makes contact with one of the hallways walls. He extends his hand in greeting.

"Name's Bill, by the by. Bill Cipher!"

Frisk smiles, a little bewildered by the random yelling. Yet entertained! It's kind of like how Papyrus speaks, in a way.

It stretches into a full grin as the hat is deposited on their head. It's a bit large for them, but they push it up on their head until it perches well above their brow. There! What a nice guy. They're glad he's in Sans' band. Hopefully those two get along; Sans seems like someone who could get along with anybody, but he was so worked up when they last met...

Thanks! I'm Frisk! They display the phone for a moment before taking his hand.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Dance, Dance, REVOLUTION

A.) If Frisk would care to meet a bandmate/ play games with a monster?

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject