[SIDESTORY] ASHTRAY

[skinstealer]

[cw: this sidestory will contain misgendering/deadnaming, body horror, and violence]

ASHTRAY

written + drawn by @ThreadLurkingComorant and @skinstealer

The restaurant is crowded, just a local place at peak business hours. Chelsea seems even more on edge than she usually is, not even sitting next to Bucket helping her relax. Bucket can’t help but notice that she’s avoiding eye contact with the other end of the table...and can’t blame her one bit.

CHELSEA: This place is...nice. You picked well.

BUCKET: I looked for something that seemed comfortable.. in theory.

CHELSEA: There's only so much you can do with- 

A jeering voice comes from across the table, cutting Chelsea off. 

????: You ladies having fun gossiping over there?

Bucket refuses to acknowledge it, responding to Chelsea and Chelsea alone.

BUCKET: Personally I prefer smaller places regardless. There's a very comforting nature to the food.

Chelsea pretends to be harder of hearing than she already is, doing her best to ignore the snickering across the table. 

CHELSEA: Better than what I'm used to, but that's a low bar.

BUCKET: Mm, is the food doing you well?

????: Could be better.

Bucket finally turns to look at the party at the end of the table, a ruffneck seated with one of his legs up on another chair. On top of his rude posture, he’s smoking instead of eating, not having taken a single bite. 

His name is Matthias, one of Spit’s head cultists, and Bucket is beginning to hate him.

CHELSEA: ...It's good. I like it.  

Chelsea mutters her answer, letting out an exasperated sigh.

BUCKET: Likewise. 

Bucket turns and faces Matthias directly, trying their best to keep a poker face.

BUCKET: Is there something wrong with your order?

MATTHIAS: I can just tell when food’s subpar, that’s all.

BUCKET: Bring me your critique then.

MATTHIAS: I figured that somebody with as much cash to burn as you would spring for something a little classier- you've got that snake bastard padding your pockets, don't you?

He taps some ashes onto his plate. 

MATTHIAS: Or would something fancy be too difficult for the runt over there?

BUCKET: Are you paying for dinner?

MATTHIAS: That’d be you.

BUCKET: Is this your domain?

MATTHIAS: You couldn’t pay me to live here.

BUCKET: Then I suppose I can forgive you for not grasping the concept of humility. 

BUCKET: For now.

He almost bursts out laughing, catching his cigarette before it falls.

MATTHIAS: So you’ve got a mouth on you!

MATTHIAS: I figured you’d be the goody two shoes type, but that’s almost a roast.

BUCKET: I’ve earned as much, I feel.

MATTHIAS: It’s more than she’ll bother to do.

He gestures at Chelsea with his cigarette, the cat trying to ignore him and focus on eating her soup.

BUCKET: She isn’t causing a fuss over a plate she hasn’t touched.

BUCKET: Now I suggest you either eat or call for a take out box.

MATTHIAS: You gonna act like my mom now? Babysit me?

BUCKET: I really shouldn’t have to.

MATTHIAS: Then get off your high horse and don’t.

He plunks his elbows on the table, jostling it and spilling soup all over Chelsea’s front. She almost jumps out of her chair, hissing and spitting. Bucket immediately drops the argument, turning their attention over to her.

BUCKET: Chelsea!

There’s a strange look on Chelsea’s face as Bucket reaches out.

BUCKET: Hold still, please…

Chelsea flinches away.

BUCKET: Please?

Chelsea shakes her head, getting a grip.

CHELSEA: Yeah, I...sorry. Holding still.

Bucket places their hand on her head, healing away at the burns. Chelsea does her best to sit still, sighing in relief as the pain subsides. 

BUCKET: Tell me when.
CHELSEA: It’s fine now...sorry for being so clumsy.

Across the table, Matthias couldn’t help but smirk. Bucket passes over their napkin, too concerned to notice.

BUCKET: You’re alright, do you need anything right now?

Chelsea pats herself down, making sure not to leave any stains.

CHELSEA: To finish my soup and go home, mostly…
BUCKET: We can ask for a box and reheat it at the manor if that would make you more comfortable. 
CHELSEA: You sure that’s okay? I don’t want to ruin things here.

Bucket turns back over towards the envoy of rudeness himself.

BUCKET: Would you mind? You don’t seem to be eating, so…
MATTHIAS: I’ve been waiting for you to say that as soon as we got here.

Matthias puts his cigarette out in his meal, getting out of his chair. Bucket tries not to frown as they call over a waiter to wrap up the soup. They can’t help but feel a bit of dread as they catch the other dog watching them, his smile all too familiar to the god he served.

This was going to be a long visit.