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Café Plaisir: October's Jaunt Part 2; First Lessons

by October Flixard

After they'd taken the Planar Room back to the Café and the situation had been explained to half a dozen different other Café employees by Firenze in boring conversations which October had barely listened to, he'd been led to this utility room, still contemplating thoughts of escape from what was starting to feel like a humiliating defeat.

At his current predicament however; He drew in the deepest of breaths to outpour in the greatest of sighs. A sigh that felt as though it ought to shatter planets, rend worlds and tear asunder the scene before him.

Alas, his sigh had no such power and the twee and cutesy, frilly and white-bordered black apron was still suspended before him on the hangar, swaying only a little from his breath.

"I'm not wearing it," said October, huffily, looking away.

"You're going to wear it, because it is the uniform here," said Firenze, standing nearby, speaking firmly, as one with good manners and strained patience might, "If you truly intend to work off your debt to us and avoid entanglement with the law, you're simply going to have to."

October grunted huffily and then made a miserable and sullen growl, "But..!" he cried, "Oh, come on, give me some wiggle room here! It looks terrible! It looks like servitude!" He rolled his eyes away to one side, the crimson Ninetales grumbling, "Is it REALLY necessary!?"

The far taller and more majestic Ninetales looked back down upon him with such a terribly controlled patience in its frown and such a distinctly impatient glare radiating from those beautifully powerful red eyes as an indistinguishably furious light. Behind him, nine great golden tails slowed and stiffened in their constant sway, like a stiffening blaze preparing to flare up in fury.

October felt his own nine tails, crimson and somewhat smaller, sink down behind him. Even as he felt himself crumble before that magnificently disapproving visage. 'Traitors..!' he thought, then looked around sharply at the sinking, curling, hurt looking things, thinking, 'Sorry, sorry! I didn't really mean that!'

"Mister October," said the Ninetales, slowly and evenly, "Your 'wiggling' has gotten you into this situation. One would have hoped you'd learned your lesson already."

With such a magnificent specimen of a large, angry Ninetales bearing down on him, at that moment October found himself instinctively weighting his position as creatures have done since matter first became smart enough to start thinking about, 'what can harm what' and 'what this means for me.'

His position at that moment combined with some surprisingly complex subconscious feelings concerning this beautiful oppressor had an effect most uncommon upon October. For although creatures of every kind had submitted quite wisely to a larger and more dangerous authority for long as it had been a thing, this could be perhaps least commonly be said of Foxes... and of a chaos-borne entity predisposed towards the shape of a Fox even less.

The impulse-driven October found himself impulsively gearing up to apologise profusely.

"Well, I do admit that I got a liiittle bit carried away," said October, carefully, forcing himself to make eye contact with Firenze, using the light there to guide his words, "but I do still insist that this is all down to simple misunderstandings, however... it was obviously very... silly of me and... I am... very..." he took a breath, "Sorry... about all of this... and grateful for the chance that you've given me... and I fully intend to make amends, of course."

He thought - hoped he'd gauged it right. Thankfully though, the Ninetales looked almost pleased. He breathed an internal sigh of relief.

"So, you will wear it, then," asked Firenze.

October almost twitched, but said, with a deep, resigned sigh, "Yes. Yes, I'll wear it."

"Excellent," said Firenze, looking pleased, "I have placed some faith in you that a Ninetales should be trusted to honour its word and attempt to salvage their pride. I hope that faith is not misplaced."

"Oh, of course not!" said October, then paused, "I mean the pride-salvaging part." He paused again, then coughed, "I mean, I want to do the right thing here, because I am sorry."

Firenze raised an eyebrow at him.

October pulled himself up straight and splayed his tails as impressively as he could, "On my pride as a Ninetales, I will make amends," he said as honestly as he could, which was surprisingly comfortable and dangerously honest-feeling.

He briefly wondered if there something going on here. If this form was somehow predisposed towards order. Every form had a flaw, after all. That would explain these damnably squishy feelings of warmth and such that he was getting from his surprisingly honest fear-based convictions of contrition.

No; That was nonsense. Philosophy. No basis in physical fact. Certainly not relevant now. Despite it all, this was both the rational course and the path of least resistance. Of course there was some overlap.

"That will do, at least for now," said Firenze, apparently satisfied, "Collect your uniform; You'll be expected to maintain it. I shall be showing you where you're staying. You'll want to get some sleep because you'll be reporting to Mister Pouncer tomorrow, who'll be taking care of your training and putting you to work on the morning shift."

"MORNING SHIFT?" October's eyes nearly bulged, "Oh no, I'm not a creature of the morning, I hate morning," he uttered quickly, "All that glare and chirping. I'm not a morning creature in the slightest, PLEASE."

"It's our least busy shift," said Firenze, apparently choosing to ignore most of his outburst, "and the best time for learning the ropes. You'll be expected at six AM. Don't be late."

October felt tears coming to his eyes.

They weren't even setting Firenze to watching him. It was almost as though he was being trusted to do the right thing. Which almost felt somewhat offensive...

What manner of world was this world of Pokémon?

He was in a daze as Firenze led him, ridiculous little apron held pathetically in his maw, through the complex and little-remembered interior of the building, to a quiet and cramped section of what seemed to be the very back of the basement tunnel-complex of employee rooms. Here, where the orange-brown walls were framing the single row of temporary rooms for guest employees were largely unlit. It had to be the dingiest and most ill-maintained section of the building.

Then, when you got inside, the opposite wall, the one right adjacent the basic, dingy double-bed which was apparently his, that solid concrete wall was shaking. Smashing beats and pounding feet from some unseen dance floor hammered constantly, practically shaking loose flakes of the cracked paint and plaster from the wall and ceiling as it must have done practically since the building's completion.

Firenze said something else to him, but he didn't hear it. He just wandered into the room and let the door close behind him, shutting himself in to darkness and the ever-pounding rhythm.

* * *

He awoke to the gentlest, but fastest of rappings upon the door, barely heard through the coils of tails about his ears. It was still dark in the windowless room and he had no idea what time it was.

Feeling very uncomfortable and partially dead upon the thinly carpeted hard concrete floor, he uncoiled himself and stood stiffly, feeling for and taking the apron with him as he stumbled in the direction of the rapping.

He paused before the door, realised he had no way of seeing how to open it and dropped the apron again.

"Pfah, come IN!" he said.

The door swung inwards, letting in some natural light from somewhere down the corridor and the acrid glow of the corridor's cheap lighting.

It starkly illuminated the form of a lithe and graceful Sylveon, stood just beyond his doorway. The male had fine poise, a peach apron to match his white and pink fur, big, bright eyes, an actually bushy tail and a happy, full-of-life, 'hey-here's-the-day!' smile.

The Sylveon veritably sang when it spoke, "Good morning! Wakey wakey mister! Nice to meet you!" It waved cheerily with four ribbon-like appendages.

October, blinking, wondered then if the universe truly hated and despised him. "Ah, hello," he gruffly managed to say.

"Wow, pit of darkness much, mister?" said the Sylveon, "Don't'cha know you've got lights in here?"

The Sylveon reached a ribbon into the room and twirled an unseen dimmer switch.

Grim, yellowish light began to reveal the stark, empty room and dingy double bed.

October groaned and closed his eyes, trying not to insult the universe for all it was doing to him. After all, the universe was bigger then him and clearly knew how to hurt him. He sincerely hoped it would give him a break at this point.

"Oh, Fortuna," he muttered anyway.

"Fortuna?" said the Sylveon, "Nice to meet you, Fortuna, I'm Colin."

He looked around, an eyebrow raised, "Colin? Really? Just Colin?"

"That's my name!" said Colin, brightly. Waving again.

"Ah, no," said October, wincing, "Look, I've just woken up. I'm not Fortuna, I'm October. Fortuna is just... look, never mind, excuse me."

Colin giggled, "You're an odd one, aren't you mister October? Well, Firenze said you were a funny one. Told me you'd probably need waking up and watching over."

Of course, the Ninetales had set this one upon him. A subtle and clever vengeance indeed. Well weighted. October's eyes narrowed as his respect for that one grew. Truly an unwise choice for an adversary.

"Uh, hello?" said Colin, bopping him on the end of the nose with a ribbon. The touch was fluttery and soft. October crinkled his muzzle and tried not to sneeze. This made Colin giggle again.

"Excuse me," groaned October, suddenly redetermined to keep his composure, "I'm not a morning person and I did not sleep much nor well."

"Oh, that's okay!" said Colin, "I'm a morning person, you can count on me to help! I'll get you up every day if you want me to or not! I love making sure no-one misses a sunrise!"

October tried not to let the horror show on his face, "Thanks," he said breathlessly and unenthusiastically. For whilst part of him dearly wished to breathe fire literally there and then, he knew in his heart that it would be as good as admitting utter defeat. He did have his pride after all and this monster before him seemed to genuinely mean well.

Colin giggled again, "Well, it'll be no problem, I'm on morning shift too! You won't see much of me though, I'm one of the bedroom waiters."

"Bedroom waiters?" asked October, the term new on him.

Colin nodded brightly, "Yep! Sometimes I take clients out of hours, too, so I hope you don't mind noises!"

October suddenly had a funny feeling he knew exactly what the Sylveon was talking about. He sighed, but then shrugged and managed a chuckle himself, "With the nighttime aerobics class on the other side of this wall, I'm sure I won't even notice," he said with forced pleasantry.

Colin giggled again. October was beginning to sense a pattern. "You're funny mister October," the Sylveon said pleasantly, "and I didn't know I was getting a Ninetales for a neighbour! I'm sure we're going to get on just great!"

"Ohoh, indubitably," said October, with a strained grin.

* * *

The interior of Café Plaisir was like a labyrinth set by an interplanar warlock with an unusual fixation on post-industrial recreational zones.

Colin had cheerily given him a set of directions that were absolutely, sure-fire, one-hundred percent guaranteed to be the in-the-know quick-way-to-go.

So, he had gotten lost, but at least he was a little more familiar with the layout.

None the less, it was to a scowling Grovyle that he eventually reported to in the kitchens. They were large and modern and barely in use by the morning chefs.

"You're late!" declared the tall Grass-type, frowning at him with arms folded over a ridiculous-looking and unaccompanied sleeveless white shirt.

"Well pardon me," said October, "I'm not only new, I'm sleep deprived! My apologies!"

"You ought to have been told where to go," said the Grovyle, haughtily, "I am Mister Pouncer and I am your supervisor. I'm not in the habit of tolerating laxity and tardiness amongst my staff. I've had to skip morning briefing in order to prepare for your training so I'll expect better of you in future."

October frowned and said nothing. For the second time today and more seriously considering the use of offensive arson. If it showed in his eyes, the Grovyle didn't notice, looking up and away haughtily as he was.

"Be that as it may," said the Grovyle, "I'm aware of the unusual circumstances of your employment, so don't expect me to be letting you off of our hook that easily either! I intend to make you work for your transgressions!"

"You know," muttered October, "Bulge your eye a bit, raise your voice another octave, lose the shirt and you would REALLY start to remind me of another Grovyle..."

"What?" said the Grovyle, raising an eye-ridge, "What are you talking about?"

"Nothing," muttered October, "No point in explaining."

"Don't be funny," said the Grovyle, "because I'm taking this seriously and so should you. You're lucky you have a second chance, so don't be ridiculous."

October tried not to growl aloud. This was obviously another serious trial set before him by the Ninetales, Firenze. He would control his temper because he could totally manage this. He wasn't going to lose, oh no.

"I'm sorry," said October, flatly, "I am taking this seriously."

"Good," said the Grovyle, smiling, "Because we have much to cover."

It turned out that they didn't have all that much to cover. October's duties primarily included receiving an order from a customer and then undertaking the perilous journey through up to three doors to slightly different destinations in order to fulfill that order. He considered it entirely within his powers and capabilities and tuned out a lot of the Grovyle's monotonous talking.

Unfortunately, then came a practical lesson and things got a little more difficult.

"A tray," said October, unhappily.

"Yes," said Mister Pouncer, holding out the bizarre, saddled silver tray with its dangling straps.

"I'm expected to wear a tray," repeated October, a moan growing in his voice at the miserable revelation.

"Well how else will you carry drinks? In your mouth?" said the Grovyle, chuckling, "We have standards of hygiene here."

"I'll look ridiculous," said October, briefly glancing at the small black apron he was wearing over his chest-ruff and flushing at the ears.

"Firenze, Eclipse and all the other quadrupedal waiters use these trays," said Pouncer, "Do they look ridiculous?"

"Yes," said October, without pause or thought.

The Grovyle frowned at him, "I would not let them hear you say that, now, let's get this on you."

He had grumbled as the thing was fastened to him. He felt like a beast of burden at that moment.

"Good, the silver sets off your crimson fur," said the Grovyle, pleasedly, "We'll pass you for a waiter yet. Now, I'm going to place these glasses of water on your back and have you walk from one end of the kitchen to another."

"Oh, no problem," said the much-burdened feeling October, as he was loaded up.

Well, it ought to be no problem, he reflected, at least this vulpine form was just chock full of grace. The last of the four glasses was placed upon his back.

"Alright, now go," said Mister Pouncer.

Taking a deep breath and wearing a cocky smirk, October set off on a quick Foxes' trot, all the better to show off his speed and grace. The even-backed trot kept the glasses level as he tore across the kitchen floor.

"Too fast!" said the Grovyle.

"Nonsense!" said October, who began to slow to make the turn at the end of the kitchen.

His pads and claws slid on the smooth surface. He leant forwards slightly as he skidded, suddenly towards a stop. Some things, however, continued to follow the laws of inertia.

All of a sudden, something very unpleasant was happening to him. It felt like the jaws of some nightmarishly huge beast as they closed upon October. Those jaws were actually the laws of thermodynamics acting through the agency of water... and that grand beast was decidedly unhappy with the anomalous nature of the sheer thermal gradient between October's furnace-hot core and the outside world. It had arrived in a substance whose high thermal capacitance and rapidly transformative nature conspired to address this inconsistency with about as much alacrity as the laws of physics would allow.

As such, it was entirely fair to say that thermodynamics was not only a bitch, but a greedy bitch at that as she sucked the living heat right out of his body with a hissing sputter of boiling vapour. It hurt like having your soul sucked out through your skin, as that water's heat-sink value sucked his living energy right out of his flesh, leaving him sore right up to the point of numbness.

At October's first proper encounter with Water as a Ninetales, he made an undignified, squeaky whimpering noise and promised himself he would never let it happen again.

The Grovyle came up striding slowly, tutting and shaking its head, "Less haste, October. Let that be a lesson. We'll try that again after we've briefly skipped ahead to the lessons on cleaning."

More than mere pain made October growl at that moment.

After a few hours, October managed to smile and nod his head enough to make the Grovyle lose interest. Eventually, mercifully, he was released from training and wandered out into the café with a sudden sense of impending dread.

Before he crossed that last doorway to begin work, he couldn't help but feel that this was really it. Now the suffering would truly begin, he thought, thinking of the hectic environment he had seen last night. Now, he thought, as he shouldered that finally door, it was his turn to-

He advanced into an almost empty room. No customers, no bustle whatsoever. The Café was devoid of customers. There wasn't even anyone at the bar. Half of the seats were still on top of the tables, off the freshly-swept floor.

On one of the taken-down seats, lounged a scrawny young Umbreon, just looking up from under the shade of a flipped-over orangey-brown apron. The barely-mature Dark type looked for a second like he might jump down from the seat and stand up, but ended up remaining where he was as October approached.

"Hey," said the Umbreon.

"Hey," said October, pausing a few meters short, "So, is it always this hectic?"

The Umbreon made a judder that might have been a chuckle, he shrugged, "The Customers like to lie in. It picks up towards noon."

"Excellent, oh Fortuna," said October, with feeling, sitting down and letting himself spill back against the back of an upturned chair.

The Umbreon snorted, it might have been a laugh.

Eventually October spoke again, "Is this all that's going on? Is there only three staff?"

"There's a bunch more, but they're preparing other things, elsewhere," said the Umbreon, "Two floor staff's plenty for this time of the day. Just listen out for Pouncer coming, he works on the bar when there's actually someone here, but he comes to check we're not slacking every so often as well."

October waggled his ears, "I'm on it," he said with a smile.

He woke up a short while later to something soft and cool tapping his nose, smelling offensive.

He stumbled awake, bumping into someone's leg, saying, "Gah! Humans!"

"Uh, yeah," said a disturbingly tall and blond human woman in a tracksuit, frowning down at him, "I was hoping for some service."

October blinked, remembering what the words meant. The human woman had several, more formally-dressed companions. The Umbreon sat up nearby, looking just as freshly woken.

Well, that wasn't a good start. To come out of this looking good now, he'd not only have to do this well, but he'd have to CRUSH it.

"Ahahahah!" he laughed, with his cheesiest, most customer-servicey grin, "Do excuse me! Welcome to the café!" he said awkwardly, "How may, what is your order, yes?"

The woman stared at him a little before giving a good-humoured laugh, "Oh, just ran into some friends when I was out for a jog and we figured we'd come here for a chat."

October nodded in a way that he was sure conveyed the false impression that he was interested. "Ah, very good..!" he said, blinking the sleep from his eyes, "...and what can I do for you..?"

The woman seemed to pause for a little bit and he looked at her again. He could swear she was smirking, but she spoke formally, "Oh, just a round of Coffees for my friends and and a juice crush for myself, if that's no trouble to you."

He scowled, "Certainly not," October said, then smiled as best he could, "Coming right up!"

He dashed headfirst through the door, through the corridor, to the place where non alcoholic drinks were dealt with. It was like a little sub-kitchen. All stainless steel fittings and no room. He had to pull his tails right in to operate in there.

There was no-one there, so he set things going, no stranger to crude, caffeine-based technology and got to work on the fruit-crush thing. There was a guide on the wall which he followed, determinedly ignoring the pain that handling the ice-filled chromed mixing jug caused his paws.

By the time he had finished the beverage, his paws were numb and shaking as he unsteadily poured the slurry into the glass.

The Coffee machine was taking too long. He lightly encouraged it with his breath, warping the plastic casing slightly and leaving some blackened marks. The machine purred more encouragingly afterwards, however.

He loaded himself up. He even put on finishing touches. He turned around and swept an entire set of shelves clear with his tails. Things crashed and smashed impressively in a multi-varied cacophony of material noise behind him.

He paused, stiffening, but then decided not to look around. He could deal with it later, for now, he had to Wait!

He veritably charged back into the Café, towards the table where the Umbreon had seated the group of humans.

It was with a horrible slowness that he came to the realisation that he was going too fast again. He tried to stop gradually to keep the mugs of steaming coffee on his back, but the principles of inertia had other plans.

The mugs shot out, past the flinching humans to explode into steaming splashes of hot coffee and porcelain shards on the wall. The Umbreon went running. The humans cried out in fright and looked around at him.

He was set to look embarrassed when the cool slush making its way through his mane and onto the back of his neck first made contact.

Yelping and crying out in a most undignified manner, he rolled about on the floor, knocking over tables and chairs in a panicked frenzy.

He managed to get himself together in time for an upside-down view of Mister Pouncer coming crashing through the door from the direction October had just come, looking furious, then throwing himself back, physically recoiling in shock at the scene before him.

"Oh, Fortuna," muttered October, then found himself utterly unable to resist laughing out loud, long and hysterically.

Oh, Universe; It was on now.

* * *

One furious Grovyle given an unspirited apology later, October was at least making good on his promise to clean it up himself. Thoroughly dispirited, he went about the task without any of his earlier vigour.

It was a nightmare anyway. Trying to operate a dustpan and brush with a muzzle and paws was beyond awkward. He almost bit through the brush handle going through the motions and kept tipping the dustpan every time it seemed like he was getting somewhere. He had to lick coffee from the wall whilst he was sure no-one was looking just to keep going.

He was smouldering the whole time, listening to the human customers laugh about the incident, as he had been next set to work, flipping chairs.

At least he had his tails to rely on for this. The Umbreon had it harder, having developed an unusual technique. The Umbreon would stand on the table with his fore and hindpaws together just in front of the upside-down chair, then he would flip it upwards with his forepaws and stretch forward with it, keeping his paws on the seat until it was oriented correctly. Then he would push the still-airborne chair downwards so that it would land upon its legs. Once he had done that to all the chairs on a table, he would have to jump down to turn them around and push them under the table. October couldn't blame him for being in no rush to do the whole Café, but admired the Umbreon's agility.

He wasn't happy about messing his tails upon the grimy seats, but he wasn't prepared to attempt the Umbreon's maneuver. It was hard enough, anyways. His tails weren't exactly meant for use as prehensile limbs and they were kind of weak and clumsy despite being between three and seven feet long. They were just about up to tumbling over seats he could then push into place, however, it came at a terrible cost to his coat! Before he knew it, his tails looked as if they'd been assaulted!

Afterward, he retreated into a dark corner and groomed his tails for an hour, growling lightly at and looking darkly upon any who ventured near, including Mister Pouncer.

True to the Umbreon's word, things had busied up later, as October's already weakened and sleep-deprived energies had further waned along with his concentration and temperament.

He served more customers, but without the smile he simply did not have within him. He set about his tasks with the minimal energy, pretending he wasn't bristling at the Grovyle's earlier words. He was feeling strained, though and not exactly prideful, either.

He was feeling somewhat grumpy about it all when the Umbreon came all but skipping and running up to him from between the slowly filling tables, a smile across his angular features.

"Hey, Ninetales," said the Umbreon, "I've got some good news for you; You've got a chance to make a bit more money already."

'Oh,' he thought internally, 'Another glorious act of servitude.' He stared in impatient silence, however.

The Umbreon's cheer seemed undeterred, "Seems that lady from earlier's interested in a bit of morning heat. She'd like a little warm before her lunch, if you take my meaning..."

"What? That!?" said October aloud, "With a Human!?" he said, not shouted, but not unquietly.

The Umbreon looked shocked. Nearby at the bar, October happened to catch Mister Pouncer's angry glare.

"Hey, Ninetales," said the Umbreon, more quietly, "It's not often we get a request like that at this time of the day, it's a good chance to get ahead. I wish I had more of your luck..."

October looked at the ground, angrily, "If stinky human pigmonkeys are to your taste, then perhaps you'd like to jump right on there..." he began and then stopped, embarrassed. He started walking, "I think I'm taking my break now," he said and stormed straight for the door.

* * *

They said you wouldn't smoke these if you had a canid's sense of smell, he'd been told, but October seemed to manage. Oh, you could smell and taste the manifold toxic chemicals combusting, in exciting, new and subtly poisonous ways of course, but you also had a keener sense of the parts that were deliciously stimulating, too that all came together in a rich, oaky blend that mingled these varying bitternesses together into an overall mellow sweetness in the stimulant high it ultimately gave. It was not unlike coffee, in that regard. He flicked the first spent butt to the grass.

It was a strange thing, smoking as a fire type. There was none of the pleasantly, lightly masochistic burn, but the heat was far more soothing. Leaning back against the wall, he put his claws through the butt of and pulled another cigarette from the box wedged in his rough black mane and casually blew a puff of fire to light it.

He heard the Umbreon coming back and sank back further in embarrassment. He took a draw to distract himself.

"Eugh!" said the Umbreon, crinkling its muzzle, "What's that smell?"

"I found them," said October, skipping over the part about the jacket and the cloakroom, "they're a method of artificially inducing a sense of satisfaction and they're exactly what I need right now."

"They smell bad," said the Umbreon.

"One's body tends to ignore that when it learns how delicious they are," said October, "Look, I'm sorry I shouted. I'm tired, grumpy and feeling a strong urge to run off for some other, less customer-service based adventure."

"Oh, alright," said the Umbreon.

October looked over with a raised eyebrow. "Just alright? Nothing more to say to me?"

"Well," said the Umbreon, "it's not cool the way you made that racist remark. I know humans suck, sometimes, but so does everyone else. Discriminating attitudes like that won't get you far around here, you oughta know..."

October laughed awkwardly, "Oh yes," he winced, in mental pain, "that. Well, I don't normally condone that sort of thing and..." he took another long draw, "and I don't really hate humans. Individually, they're generally fine."

"Oh," said the Umbreon, tilting his head and frowning, "why'd you say it then?"

October took another long draw, "Just a fit of pique, really. Bit of shock at the prospect, too." He sighed and took another draw, "I mean, I'm not philosophically against such things, but it still rather comes as a surprise when it happens to me. I'm not used to the idea of service for money, I rather prefer that things flow naturally."

"Oh," said the Umbreon, "That's exactly what I want to do. I want to become a Bedroom Waiter, but I can see how it could be awkward. I was nervous for a while, too, but I want to make a living being desirable. You can make it so it's natural, too, if you're good."

"Well," said October, pausing thoughtfully and taking another draw, "Good on you then. Go for it. What's holding you back?"

The Umbreon shrugged, "Don't know. Need to impress someone, I guess. Anything to get off these morning shifts. These aren't Umbreon hours."

October grinned, "Well, here's to better luck and saner hours," he said, presenting the cigarette to the Umbreon experimentally, "I'm October," he said.

The Umbreon had a curious look on its face, "I'm Chai," he said, slowly leaning to take a drag on the cigarette. He stumbled backwards, hacking and coughing.

October smirked. Well, the Umbreon was game. "Let that be a lesson to you," he said with a toothy grin, "These things are bad for you."

"No shit," said the Umbreon.

"Chai?" said October, suddenly frowning, "Isn't that the name of a tea?"

Chai shrugged at him, "It's my craft name."

October's eyebrow rose, "Isn't there another waiter here named after a tea? The Luxray?"

"Yeah," said the Umbreon, suddenly defensive, catching the interest of the Fox, "What of it?"

"You're stealing his gimmick?" said October teasingly, "...or you're trying to send him a compliment?"

The Umbreon flushed, "It's a fair-game stylistic choice!" he said protestingly, "I'm like, more dark and spicy. It's more context on the menu."

"Fine, fine," said October with a smile, having pushed the Umbreon just enough.

"What kind of name is October, anyway?" said the Umbreon.

"The only one I've got," he said, stubbing out his cigarette.

The Umbreon seemed to ponder this.

Something occurred to October, "Say, if you're out here and so am I, who's Waiting the Café?"

The Umbreon smirked, mischievously, "Well, I figured this way he would have to shout at both of us. Figured you could use a break."

October smiled broadly and rolled to his paws. He stretched his legs and began walking back, "You know, I think I like you, Chai."

The Umbreon smiled and followed quietly.

October paused to close the box of cigarettes and push them deeper into his mane.

"You're keeping those?" asked the Umbreon.

"I might need them, yes," said October, "One never knows when one might need to blow smoke in someone's face."

"I'll say one thing," said the Umbreon, "Not going to get many more offers smelling like that."

"Well let's be calling them 'training wheels' shall we?" said October, with a patient smile.

The Umbreon shook a few times. It might have been coughing or silently laughing.

* * *

They had indeed both gotten a tongue-lashing for their misadventure. October managed to keep his resolve and maintained a straight face throughout, despite the tired hysteria beginning to creep up on him.

He'd promised never to say anything abusive or derogatory around the customers ever again. He certainly couldn't disagree on principle. He was sure he could control his temper for the few scant hours remaining of this awful period of servitude.

"What in sodding buggery do you mean, 'A cheeseburger without cheese,'" quoted October exasperatedly, ears back, fangs showing, "you mean a hamburger, don't you human? You want a hamburger."

The small black-haired human looked dumbfounded, "The cheese burgers have these seeds on the buns..."

"Hamburger, seeded bun, got it," said October impatiently, "I'll seed your bloody buns," he muttered under his breath, "and bloody them," he muttered even quieter.

He turned to leave.

"...and a Coffee!" added the human.

"Coffee, yes, good," he said by way of confirmation and barged his way through the door to the utility corridor.

He was glad of the reprieve. Things were really starting to busy up and his hatred of the universe was ramping up exponentially.

Stopping to shout the order for a hamburger with a seeded bun into the kitchen doorway, he headed into the non alcoholic beverages room, pulling another cigarette from his mane as he did. They were more or less loose in there now, but any amount of fishing would usually yield one or more.

He stuck it on his claws and lit it with his breath even as he switched the coffee machine on again. He gave the machine another lick of flame to get it going. The plastic casing was starting to misshape, but otherwise he and the machine were starting to get along well.

Smoking the whole while, he drank half of the coffee as it was poured into the cup. He added some pinches, well, tail-sweepings really, of pepper and cinnamon to spice up the taste, like he'd been doing in increasing amounts all day. Caffeine had an art to it, after all.

Chai appeared at the doorway. He paused, sniffing, "Ummm, I don't think you're allowed to smoke in here."

October shrugged, continuing to smoke and operate the coffee machine (and keep conscious of his tails, though in truth, most of the damage was done.)

"Well," said October, "It's the only quiet room without a smoke detector. They really ought to allow it."

Chai didn't seem to know what to say to that. He stood there staring quietly for a while.

He reached over with a tail and grabbed the drum of powdered milk. He opened it with his teeth (many of the jars were beginning to bear his fang-marks, like extra grips) and poured some into the coffee.

"What are you..." began the Umbreon.

"Making proper coffee, there's no fresh milk," said October, "I'd hardly go to less effort here than at home, now would I?"

"Umm, people here don't put milk in Coffee," said Chai, quietly.

"Oh come on," said October chuckling, "Don't be silly."

He flung the finished cigarette into the sink, turned the coffee machine off with his nose and loaded himself up to head into the kitchen.

October smiled at Chai, "After all," he said, walking past, "I wouldn't want you all to think I wasn't taking this seriously."

"Oh!" said Chai suddenly, "I just remembered. Since it's so busy, Mister Pouncer wants us to go on for another half-shift, double-rate."

October's muzzle hung open. Chai said a few more things, but he didn't hear them. His body flushed with heat, burning with elemental fury.

He found himself confronting the Grovyle. He'd lost the Coffee somewhere along the line. He found himself growling. He was aware that he was generating a lot of heat. Probably enough to make the air above him shimmer in front of the tails he was presenting splayed.

Mister Pouncer was blinking at him, "W-what..?" the Grovyle stuttered. There was a hint of green in the Grovyle's wide eyes, a reflection. October realised his own eyes must be glowing, with what he had been assured in the past, looked like green fire.

"A grass type has a lot of nerve," October found himself snarling, "a lot faith in the niceties of society and the importance of titles, to demand another half shift of a very tired Ninetales."

The Grovyle took a half step back, an expression on his face like he might scream or start running.

It broke the spell. October took quick stock of the situation. He was on the main Café floor. Conversation around his immediate area had quietened. He appeared to be threatening his supervisor. He had definitely lost the coffee.

October burst out laughing, "HAhahahahah, HAH! Just joking, oh your face - I'm sorry," he chuckled as lightly as he could, "Oh, no problem, really, really," he said, doing his best impression of mirth whilst backing up towards the utility door. "It'll be no problem. I just have to serve a customer and then I'll be taking a break. It'll be fine won't it? Since I've told you? Wonderful, wonderful."

He burst into the utility room corridor butt-first and squirmed out of sight.

He breathed heavily and sighed slowly. Now THAT was CLOSE.

* * *

The day wound on. The din increased, turning a head-ache into a heed-knack, a subtly different state that made him predisposed towards rash action. He had been holding it together as best as he was able, but now not only were the tables packed, there were people and Pokémon standing about and other waiters from other shifts milling all over the place. He'd had his muzzle bumped or brushed a few times and he was getting thoroughly sick of it.

Surely it had to end, soon? He'd tried hiding out, but there were busy Pokémon everywhere. There was nowhere to turn, no escape. As a Fox, he didn't appreciate that. This challenge was turning into a nightmare.

He had a tray full of drinks when it happened and his patience had been strained to its utmost limit.

"Hey," said the voice in his head, "They want more Coffees on table sixteen, hop to it."

He paused, maw hanging open, showing teeth, not for the first time today. He growled and looked about for a familiar face. Seeing Chai, he moved rapidly to intercept, barely managing the drinks upon his back. He was conscious enough not to spill them. He'd promised himself no more spillages today.

He was nearly hysterical as he confronted the Umbreon. Chai stopped what he was doing and looked at him worriedly.

"Voice in head, explain," said October, staring.

"Ummm," said Chai, "When it's busy, psychic types co-ordinate the waiters and-"

"Oh! Fortuna!" said October, a little too loudly, then he laughed, "Oh that's just marvellous really, a true wonder. Psychic servitude. What a brave new world this is to have such wonders in it, why it can just..."

"Hey, smaller Ninetales," said the voice in his head, "This means you. Stop chatting and get to work. Table sixteen."

"Oho, that's it," declared October, then sighed, "I'm done."

"Umm," said Chai, "What about those drinks?" he nodded to the trayful stick on October's back.

"Hrmph," grumbled October, he supposed he hated leaving something half-finished, "Well, I'll get these delivered, but this is just the absolute limit. I'll see you some other time, Chai."

"Umm," Chai managed to say, as October turned tightly and started towards the table his current order was for.

He struck something grey and unyielding, bouncing off and stumbling to one side. The drinks fell on the floor next to him, one after the other.

The stink of Mightyena struck him first, a powerfully arrogant scent, masculine well past the point of decency. He looked around slowly, until his eyes met that cruel red-on-yellow stare set over a toothy sneer that made a big show of the powerful Mightyena's jaws. Eclipse had his head back to look down on him, though in truth he wasn't any taller, but the Mightyena's mighty frame was certainly and fearfully more formidable. It was this rock against which October had crashed. A rock that had placed itself quite deliberately.

'Oh, Fortuna,' he thought to himself. This was obviously, EXACTLY who he wanted to see. Why thank you indeed, universe.

"You should take more care," said the Mightyena, grumbling darkly, "If you're planning on doing more than looking girly in that apron."

October, quite at his limit, couldn't help but bare his teeth, "Oh you can just fuck off," he growled.

The Mightyena chuckled once, though it could have been a snarl, "They should have just left you to me. Go on, puff yourself up," he said darkly, "Give me an excuse."

October found himself prickling and lowering in posture. Getting a grip, he started fishing in his mane, "You know what?" he said, "I've got just the thing." He pulled out a cigarette. You never knew, indeed. This was going to be a pleasure.

"October!" said a voice from behind him. It was Chai, the Umbreon had apparently hung around, "You can't smoke in here!"

He shot Chai a glare. Then put the cigarette near his muzzle about to light it with a puff of flame.

"Hey, that Ninetales is smoking in here!" said one of the nearby human customers.

October scowled and puffed a light lick of flame at the end of the cigarette. These people weren't getting it.

"Oi!" came a voice from the bar, it was the massive Typhlosion, the one who'd stared evilly at him yesterday, "Put tha' 'aought!"

October sighed and went to take a draw.

"October," said Chai, urgently, "You'll set off the sprinklers!"

Sprinklers eh? Well, he didn't want that. Looked like his big act of defiance was ruined after all. Ruined by badgering and anti-fire countermeasures.

"AARGH!" cried October in frustration, loud enough for the room to hear, "FINE!" he declared.

He put the lit cigarette in his muzzle and ate it. He briefly turned his head towards Eclipse and said, "Bleh," sticking his tongue out, bearing a disgusting mess of chewed-up cigarette, at the Mightyena.

"WELL, FUCK THIS!" he declared, not particularly caring who heard, "FUCKTOPOLIS."

Nothing happened.

The Mightyena laughed at him.

He said it again, to be sure. It wasn't working. Silver had to have changed the command word. Maybe he thought that October needed to learn a lesson.

"What's the matter, Ninetales?" said Eclipse, wickedly, "Boyfriend change the keys on ya..?"

October ignored him, practically in a state of shock. He strode straight towards the door.

"Where are you going?" said Chai, after him.

"Bed!" declared October, folding his ears back and trying not to listen to Eclipse's good humour. Trying even harder to not just set the entire place on fire. That would really be losing. Especially after the sprinklers put the fire out.

As if he felt like he was winning now...

* * *

When he eventually found the place where he was supposed to sleep, he was gratified to note that the dance floor hadn't started yet. He could enjoy that large bed and some peaceful sleep.

It was only when he got through the door that he heard the noises. It sounded like something was being murdered...

No, on closer inspection, with the attendant sounds of movement, it sounded like someone was murdering the Sylveon, happily, from a behind-kind-of-a-way.

Apparently the Sylveon was very noisy indeed.

Groaning, he looked for something to block the door with, but the room was largely unfurnished. There was really just the nice, white bed and four depressing, orange-brown walls.

Taking a fairly animal pleasure out of it, he tore open the bed's base with his teeth until he got at the wooden frame. With every ounce of strength left in his body, he prised free a section of two by four perfect for bracing under the handle.

There was no way he was admitting to himself that he was worried about the Mightyena, but on the other hand, he didn't want to be bothered by anyone. So he wedged the wooden plank it under the door handle, then leapt onto the now sagging bed.

He pulled the duvets and blankets about him into as close to a sound-proof coffin as he could make it and tried to force himself to sleep.

What a thoroughly miserable day. He wondered how it could possibly get any worse.

He lay within the cocoon of duvet and pillow, his own improvised fortress of solitude and felt his heart beat and his ears twitch, listening for any external stimuli.

He couldn't sleep, though he lay for a long while trying. There was no way he could sleep. His mind was filled with today's frustrations... or perhaps it was better to say that today was a twisted mess of frustration and failure filling his mind. He wasn't sure how much more his pride could bear. Part of him really wished he'd just set everything on fire and then ran. Also, all the Coffee he'd been drinking probably wasn't helping.

He managed to calm and re-annoy himself in cycles until eventually it all welled up within him, as he squirmed as if buried alive within the duvet. All the frustrations, the embarrassments turned from glowing embers to a blazing fury within.

Filled with sudden, wrathful energy, he found himself squirming free of his self-imposed restraints. He burst out of the duvet in time to shout, "Oh for FUCKS S-AAAOOOUUGH-"

Flames erupted from his maw, bursting into the air with impressive impulse and splashing against the wall and ceiling. They ended as suddenly as they had begun, leaving October blinking.

Well, he hadn't expected that. Apparently there were definite reasons for keeping your composure as a Ninetales.

He was about to reflect on how glad he was that he was at least alone in here for that, when he pondered on the growing cloud of smoke from the wall and ceiling. It wasn't on fire, the flames had actually been too hot for that; No, the ugly orange-brown paint had flash-burned.

...and that smoke was probably as toxic as a Muk's asshole.

Holding his breath, he ran for the door, knocking aside the two by four and squirming out into the corridor.

Shutting the door tight, he slumped against the wall and groaned. That cloud would take some time to settle.

Well, that just about topped it off. If he didn't know the Planar Gate's command word had been changed, he'd have left right then. He weighed his options.

If winning wasn't worthwhile, he could just run off into the countryside until Silver looked for him. He had no doubt that would prove boring and grim, however and arguably worse than his current predicament. Who knows where he would end up? Fighting for scraps with alley Pokémon? Hunted in the wilds? Maybe in some human's slavery ball, even. Assuming it would work on him, of course, but from the run of his luck so far...

He shuddered at the very thought. No; This Café was enslavement enough.

Well, if running into the wilderness wasn't a good plan, he couldn't very well set this place on fire, either. Staying here, depressingly, was probably his best plan.

Well, he had probably already messed that plan up. It was a pity he didn't have any enthusiasm for the others.

There was a very light tap on his shoulder. He looked up from the sulking pile of himself he had become.

Colin was standing there, looking down at him with concern. "Hey!" said the Sylveon, "Everything alright?"

Determined not to look weak in front of this one at the very least, October picked himself up and tried to make himself look impressive, but it was a half-hearted effort, all the same, "Oh, fine, fine, just... taking some air," he said.

"Umm," said the Sylveon, "You don't look fine."

October, who had his muzzle raised high, looked down and said with a smile, "Whatever do you mean?"

"Your tails are sad," said Colin, pointing behind him with all four ribbons.

October looked around. It was true, he'd meant to splay them against the wall, but his nine, long, crimson tails were more or less just lying on top of each other, against the wall or pulled up against his body. Like they'd given up. They really did betray him.

October sighed and let himself sag, "I'm just... not adapting very well," he said resignedly, with an attendant, protracted sigh.

The Sylveon seemed to wait, staring at him intently with bright blue eyes.

Eventually October gave in to the prompting, "I'm just not cut out for this. Busy places. Stupid aprons and trays. Strolling slowly in a hurry. Listening to instructions. Giving false smiles," he looked to one side with a frown, "Existing in the same vicinity as that Mightyena."

"Aw," said Colin, placing two ribbons upon his shoulders, "I'm sorry to hear that, October, I was hoping you'd have fun."

October almost twitched at the over-familiarity, but he didn't have the energy to react. Besides, everything he'd done today had been wrong and he certainly didn't want to lash out at one of the few who had looked at him with anything but scorn. Again.

Ignoring it, he sighed, "Fun?" he sighed, "If I thought I'd be better off, I'd have fled already."

Colin sat next to him and smiled sadly, "Well, that'd be a shame."

October raised an eyebrow, "A shame..?" he had to ask.

Colin nodded, "There's a lot of Pokémon who'd like to work here who don't get the chance," he said quietly, "You're lucky just to be here... but... I got a good feeling about you. I figured you'd stay."

October couldn't help but tilt his head in confusion, "Whatever on earth - or any other world - are you basing that on?"

The Sylveon shrugged, looking away, "I don't know, just a feeling. You've got character. You seem nice. You're honest."

October's maw hung open for the umpteenth time today. Nice? Honest? The Sylveon surely couldn't be more wrong about him if he'd set out to make deliberate errors. He'd have thought the Sylveon was mocking him if not for his utterly serious demeanour.

A ribbon rubbed his chest ruff. October managed not to bristle. At least someone was saying nice things to him.

"I think you should do your best, October," said Colin, looking at him with a sad smile, "I think you can do it."

October was about to speak, when the Sylveon's ribbon slipped around the back of his neck and found one of his spots. Huffing, October sagged at the rubbing.

Colin giggled, lightly.

October wanted to protest, but the ribbon was quickly joined by three others. They sought out his 'universe spots' with disturbing ease and soon had him dissolving in cosmic wonder, eyes defocused, maw open, growling happily as his many and various pains went away.

"Well at least you're easy to cheer up!" said Colin brightly, when he eventually released October.

Pulling himself up and feeling somewhat indignant, October, whose brain was just but coming back online, could only say, "Hey..."

Colin giggled.

October sighed, but this time with a smile. On the scale of embarrassment, that was about the least and most positive of the things that had happened today.

"Thank you," muttered October, but quietly.

"No problem!" said Colin, brightly, "I love making smiles!"

"Well, thanks for taking the time," said October, "Though... didn't you have a customer?"

"Oh yeah," said the Sylveon, suddenly flushing at the cheeks and ears, "A big Arcanine fella. He's a lot of fun, but he's napping," Colin chuckled with surprising dirtiness, "He'll need the energy before I'm done with him."

October briefly paused and looked over the slight Sylveon, wondering at the logistics of this. It seemed implausible. "Really? An Arcanine?"

Colin nodded enthusiastically, "He's a lot to handle, but he's fun to handle." The Sylveon's smile suddenly seemed to explode, "Hey! I've got an idea! Want to come and help? Bet I could talk him into it."

October tried not to let the horror show on his face, but it was a losing battle. "Uh... no thanks," he said as politely as he could, "I mean, larger males are not to my taste, if you know what I mean. I rather prefer smaller, slighter ones."

Colin made a show of looking over himself, "Oh really?" he said with a smirk, poising his graceful and charmingly proportioned pink and white form.

October chuckled and looked away, it being his own turn to flush, "Yes..." he said, then added, "Though I don't know if I'm THAT committed to staying here just yet."

Colin seemed to pause. October looked back around. The Sylveon smiled at him, "...but you ARE committed?" he asked.

October nodded, once, "Suppose so," he said with a smile.

"Well, offer stands," said Colin with a smirk, turning around and heading back to his own door, "See you later, October."

October smiled and nodded, then slumped back against the wall, not feeling quite as miserable as before.

He was still waiting for the smoke to clear when he dozed off.