Chapter Text
"I ordered fucking gluten-free water!"
Water splashed against the white blouse of the waitress. The customer glared, their perky, dirty blond hair put in an oily, sleek ponytail swishing behind their head. Dirty blond, as in the hair itself was dirty. Pieces of sticks and gum were sticking from the crevices.
One of the tails from the waitress flickered in annoyance despite the service smile on her face. "My apologies, I'll be right back with your…" she glanced down at the water that dripped from her quickly water-absorbing blouse, "gluten-free water." Thankfully, she wore a dark underlayer, so nothing was revealed as her white blouse started to become see-through. Her name tag, Crow, had a droplet falling from its edge. The customer scoffed, one of their slimy frog-like hands coming to their forearms to cross their arms. "You better be sorry! You know what– where's your manager?!"
Crow would have sighed but instead kept it in. Honestly, it was the Karen's loss if they wanted to see the manager. "Very well," the waitress drawled, picking the thankfully not shattered glass from the ground with one of her tails and stiffly readjusting her black wings behind her back. "She will arrive momentarily." The customer huffed in response. Not one to miss out on opportunities, the waitress walked off.
She passed other customers on the way, all seated by pristine round tables, all ordained with silken white tablecloths and candles or decorations set in the middle. As usual, the large room was dimly lit to fit in with the continuous low chatter of the customers, soft light emitted from above or the walls. The waitress continued past the tables, taking mental notes of her tables that needed filling up on their drinks or looked like they needed checking. Eventually, she arrived at the end of the room, walked into the staff-only hallway, and opened the door with another one of her tails to get into the kitchen counter.
And as usual, the manager was there, doing jack shit. They looked up the moment the waitress entered, empty glass in hand, all its contents dripping from her blouse.
"Crow!" the manager snapped, "The fuck are you doing?! You pissed off a customer again, didn't you?!"
Again? Crow set the empty glass on the counter where dirty dishes were typically set and raised a brow at her manager. "Some slug sinner wanted gluten-free water," the tailed waitress frowned, her now unoccupied tails swaying to the left and right behind her, "It's practically a finished discussion right there."
"You talked back?!" the manager snapped, coming to their feet. Crow's eyes twitched as the smaller demon approached her, a disgusting scowl on their face. The manager was what you'd expect a bitch manager demon to look like, so take that as you will. Nevertheless, Crow's feathers slightly straightened, her three tails twitching before slowing their swaying behind her. "No," came out between Crow's teeth, "They're waiting for you."
The manager's scowl tightened. Crow smiled, "Table thirteen. Slug. Bad hair. Can't miss them," her grin widened as her tails swayed behind her in amusement, "They wanted to talk to you."
The manager's eyes twitched and narrowed at Crow. It was almost as if they were waiting for Crow to say something. Still, the tailed demon just stayed silent, smiling down at who was supposedly their superior.
"Fine," the manager snapped and walked past Crow, bumping shoulders purposefully, even if Crow barely budged out of it. The waitress slid a foot back and looked back just before the door swung shut behind the leaving manager. Now, she could relax.
A long, breathful groan escaped her lips as she stepped backwards to the wall and leaned on it. If she had hands, she would have put them to her forehead to try to rub the annoying headache. But instead, she closed her eyes, with her wings slumped uselessly behind her, letting them trail and whisper by the ground. In front of her was the chatter and sound of chefs cooking.
The typical click of porcelain on marble. One of her eyes pried open.
The green sinner with a tall white chef hat leaned his forearm on the counter, with a steaming plate with a steak and vegetables in front of him. He raised his singular brow at Crow. "It's ain't smart to backtalk the bitch, you know that." What looked like grass replaced his arm hair as it peaked past his rolled-up sleeves. He gestured with his free hand, the other holding an oily spatula.
She pushed herself off the wall and stepped to the counter, giving an unimpressed look at the cook. "I didn't backtalk," Crow's tails twitched, "I literally said what happened."
The Venus flytrap sinner just nudged the readied plate to Crow.
"Yeah. Backtalk."
Crow pushed the urge to roll her eyes and grabbed the plate with one of her tails, balancing it properly. Once ready, she leaned on a leg and looked towards the cook. He was still looking at her with a frown, as if he wanted to say something but was holding back.
"What is it?" she sighed, glancing at the food before looking at the cook. He stared silently before pushing his hands off the counter and standing his full frame. He came a bit taller than Crow, so she had to look up.
"How did you end up in Hell?"
Her two unoccupied tails stilled as she gazed casually at the cook. Her pair of eyes searched the singular eye of the Venus flytrap. Eventually, she smiled at him, her tails still incredibly still behind her, "Killed my husband." Her eyes were on him. His eye look at her, as if searching for something more. Eventually, he just rolled his eye and turned around, clearly disappointed with her answer. She even heard a muttered 'typical'.
Her tails swayed in amusement at his reaction, and she returned to serve the food.
As she served the customers, sometimes having to accept the insults and yells, she fell into a routine. It almost became mindless but nevertheless tiring. Sometimes, she even wondered how she remembered the orders she got, but everything seemed to roll out fine, so she didn't question it. But… yeah. The question the chef asked her…
She didn't know why she landed here. Why she landed in Hell.
Her go-to answer was that she killed her husband because no one seemed to question her after it. It seemed like a widely accepted fact that killing husbands was a more natural thing than loving them. But it wasn't true– as in, that wasn't the reason why she landed here. It was just the easiest answer to say on the spot.
But she didn't know why she landed here about two months ago. She knew how . It was a crash. Of some kind. But that didn't matter. What truly mattered was why she was in Hell. She had never killed a person before or did some really shitty thing. The shittiest thing she could vaguely remember was delivering a nasty insult to her friend's ex and accidentally punching her sister in the stomach so hard she almost puked. And sure, she had sex before marriage (not that she ever did marry), but well… surely that wasn't Hell worthy?
No. Probably not…
But there was a kicker to this! A punchline, if you will.
She landed in a Hell she knew acutely well. A bit too well.
She landed in a cartoon version of Hell made by a seemingly controversial creator. In other words, she landed in the version of Hell from that one series, Hazbin Hotel.
It was a shock.
On the one hand, it was better. Because it meant she wasn't boiling in some oil for the rest of eternity. Instead, she was doomed to be a waitress at some restaurant. But it also meant she lived in what she considered a joke. Dye her feathers blue, slap some paint on her face and call her a clown because it felt like a damn joke. Why the fuck did she land in Hazbin Hotel?
She couldn't figure it out– still hadn't. Which, obviously, made her think this was all a mistake. Her landing in this stupid series. Her landing in Hell. It was a mistake– had to! Some weird shit must have happened. Maybe she was in a coma (though those turf wars she's been nonconsensual dragged into begged to differ) and had to wake up. In any case– she needed to get out.
Unfortunately, it looked like hunger and pain were ‘a thing’ that existed down here. Sinners couldn't die. Not without the means of angelic steel, at least. So, it meant sinners could live on without eating but with the consequence of starving. Sinners could hurt themselves, and it would heal. But you could still get infected, and it would hurt unless you dealt with it properly.
So fine, two months ago, Crow had landed in Hell and she figured out she was in this stupid version of Hell. And she knew she needed help. But she couldn't do that without stabilising herself– so she found a job and a place to sleep. She gave herself a new name and kept to herself. She got money and fed herself, clothed herself, and prepared herself. Hunger and pain were not something she wanted to become familiar with.
And it looked like the grind, stress, and overall tiredness of surviving had pushed her to just work continuously though. It's not like she hadn't reached for help– she did. But it was taking longer than expected. And it's not like she was bottling her emotions up and was waiting to explode. She managed to pick up hobbies and activities in this shithole. It kept her afloat. As content as a sinner could possibly be.
She just needed time for the help to establish herself here and stabilise things, and things would be fine.
Fingers dug into her shoulders, the chipped nails of the manager making indents in her now-dried blouse. Crow whipped around, her tails swishing quickly around as she turned on one foot and scowled at the manager.
"Don't touch me from the back," Crow immediately said, holding the empty tray with one tail as she set both feet back to the ground. The manager pulled back, their hands still up, before they scowled and crossed their arms as if trying to hide the frightened twitch in their fingers. "I– I can do whatever I want!" the manager yelped.
This fucking sinner.
"Y–you're going to serve table three! Now!"
Crow frowned, "That's not my usual table," she rejected. It was that fish server's table. Crows did the tables from 10 to 19, and that was how it was. They stood again in the kitchen by the counter where finished meals were set. Crow vaguely caught the eye of the Venus flytrap cook and remembered what he said. Don't backtalk. She bit her inner cheek as her tails flickered in annoyance, "I don't see why two servers should tend one table," she tried to rectify herself.
The manager scowled. Look, she tried.
"I don't care– the– they're here! " the manager whispered harshly in the end. Crow raised her brows.
"The rival restaurant?"
It was annoying and strange, but the restaurant Crow worked at apparently had rivals? And not in the friendly competition sort of way, it was more in the ‘would kill you if seen’ sort-of-way. It was fucky. Crow worked at this restaurant ‘Venison Maison’, which used to be in the weapons district of Pentagram City. However, the owner moved to the entertainment district to get away from the rivals because, apparently, the entertainment district was a better spot for restaurants. Crow had actually helped (been paid to) with the move about a month ago.
It's why her apartment was still in the damn weapon's district, and she had to travel about an hour to get to Venison Maison. She had to walk through a fucking noman's land to get here every day.
Anyways, the stupid rivals would sometimes come and bring in a fight. It was annoying. It was terrifying. The assholes came with guns and would shoot everywhere– sometimes even when they had customers. There was no mercy. It was disgusting.
"Wha– no, obviously not, you stupid bitch. Do you hear gunshots?" The manager immediately shut down Crow's suggestion. Well, ok then. "It's worse, " they hissed, "the district's overlords are here!"
Two tails swished to the right and left.
"Oh."
Crow wasn't necessarily impressed. Her third tail gripped down on her tray as she glanced at the empty counter, where the Venus flytrap chef was setting some plates down. She glanced at her manager while waiting for the plates to be set on the counter. "So what?" the three-tailed sinner asked, "They're just sinners."
The manager gasped dramatically as Crow and the Venus flytrap demon glanced at each other. The chef walked off while Crow set the plates on her tray. The manager stepped back to Crow and once again into Crow's personal bubble: "They can ruin or make us!"
"So why should I serve them?" Crow raised a brow, "The other server is–"
"Pissing his pants!" the manager spat, "He'll ruin us!"
Crow would have talked back to the manager if she didn't agree. The new server did not seem that brave or confident. Nevertheless, talk about tedious things. But it's not like she could argue or outright fight with the person who gave her money at the end of each shift or so. So she pushed the tray to her manager with a scowl.
"In that case," Crow walked past her manager with a tired scowl, "better not keep them waiting." She walked out to the large dining room, leaving her fuming manager back. Her eyes swept through the room as she stood by the staff entrance. Her eyes landed on the left side of the room, where three tables were set aside from the whole room. They were all in their own separate 'rooms', where curtains were hung from the opening to really give those tables privacy.
She went to the best table out of the three, namely, table three.
"–believe that shit?!"
Crow stood by the opening of the table's entrance. As she looked in, she saw two men seated by the table. Two overlords. One wore an extravagant red gown that Crow acutely knew were wings, with white puffs at all openings, patterned with hearts. A fur hat sat on top of the moth demon's head, two long feathered antennae probing out of front of the hat. The other had a thick TV for a head and wore a brown suit with a beige turtleneck, a small tophat with two electronic antennas also coming out from the front. The TV demon had one of his ankles crossed over his other knee.
The moth demon snarled, "And she spread it to all of them! That stupid maggot, " he slammed two fists to the table, making the candle in the middle flicker. Crow glanced at the candle, in some parts hoping it would topple over and make the scene more dramatic, but was ultimately happier when the candle kept stable.
"Uh-huh…" the TV demon answered, definitely enthused by the conversation. Deciding that this was probably the best shot at entering the scene, she stepped to their table, the sole of her shoes sliding briefly on the ground to reveal her presence. That seemed to bring their attention to her.
Crow had two overlords look at her. Valentino and Vox. The overlords of entertainment.
The TV demon's digital lips widened into a wide smirk that overlapped past his screen. He set his elbow on the chair's headrest as he turned to look towards Crow. "About time," he drawled with squinted eyes, "We are starving here." His other hand lifted to rest on the table, his sharp blue fingers tapping against the surface.
"I apologise for the wait, Sir Vox," Crow automatically responded, bowing slightly as her tails slowed in their swaying behind her. When she looked back up, apparently, she was deemed unimportant as Valentino continued with a prior rant, and Vox threw her the menu card while quickly saying his order.
She caught the menu and looked towards Valentino.
"–ruins the shoot cause their pussies are disgusting, so I–"
And he was still in his rant. Crow knew that interrupting would mean pain, so she patiently waited as Vox stared at his business partner with a diminishing smile. Valentino kept on talking. Vox's eyes twitched. He snapped his head to Crow. "Aren't you a fucking waitress!?" he snapped, "Get our food!"
She kept her expression blank as her tails flickered. Taking out his frustration on her, huh?
"Right away, Sir Vox. Sir Valentino," she quickly attempted since Valetino was snarling at Vox for interrupting him mid-rant, "what would you like tonight? The chefs recommend the lobster marinated with red wine with a side of herbed risotto."
And now the glare was directed to her, and fuck–
"And to apologise for the wait, we are offering you a red wine from the Wrath Ring, cultivated from local berries, aged for 65 years," Crow quickly said, lowering her eyes to the table, trying to remember the details when her manager was blabbing off about it. Unable to conjure more details, she looked back up and gave Valentino that service smile. "On the house, of course, for our precious overlords."
Realising all her attention was on Valentino, she also looked towards Vox to hopefully not anger him. He blinked at her, his eyes wide. The TV demon glanced at his business associate, who looked back at him until Vox just shrugged as a smirk widened on his face. Valentino's rant seemingly vanished from his mind, so he set an elbow on the table and smirked towards Crow.
"What a good little birdie you are," the moth demon said, setting his smoking stick between his lips. He inhaled deeply, and after a while, red smoke filtered out of his lips as he smirked. He waved Crow away. "That'll do."
Crow's tails flickered. She nodded and bowed at them and stepped away. She quickly walked by the large room's side to slip into the staff-only corridor and went to put in the order next to the kitchen. The moment she was about to write down the order to pass it to the kitchen, a shadow was on her. She looked up.
"Oh, Ven," she stepped back, pushing the notepad and pen to him with her tail. It was always a damn hassle to write with no hands and just clumsy tails. "The overlords want that special lobster with the risotto thing and the rare steak with the red stuff." The Venus flytrap cook sighed and quickly wrote it down in the notepad. He looked down at what he wrote and frowned at her.
"Don't call my creations' thing' and 'stuff'," he admonished, eyes squinting at the smaller sinner. Crow shrugged, tails swaying playfully as she took a step back. "Sure, old man," she returned with the tiniest upward quirk at the corner of her lips before swiftly turning around and heading towards the wine cellar, which was actually just the room over.
When she was walking back on the sideline of the restaurant, heading towards the overlords' table, she had a tray with the bottle on top, two wine glasses balanced on one tail in front of her, and a bucket of ice in another tail. Her last tail swayed calmly behind her. When she was back by the overlords' table, it looked like Valentino was no longer ranting but Vox.
Complaining about some other overlord, it sounded like.
It was really none of her business, so she set the bucket of ice on a nearby small table and then stood right next to their table. She set the glasses cleanly on the table and opened the bottle smoothly. With her tails, she poured the red liquid that almost seemed to sparkle with the surrounding lights. Once the right amount was served, she held the bottle and set the glasses before both men.
As she leaned back, she looked at them.
Valentino had their arms crossed, his other hand holding his smoking stick. Red smoke came from the end and twirled into the air before dispersing. A bored expression was on his face as he cocked his head ever so slightly to Vox. Speaking off…
She looked towards Vox. The TV demon was still ranting. Of the two demons, he was the one that… surprised her most with his appearance. His head was much boxier than she expected and his clothes were much less flashy. It's not like this was the first time she'd seen the face of Voxtek since she landed here. In fact, it was hard to not know who he was since almost everything technology in Hell was practically owned by him.
Not everything, from what she understood. But it was getting there.
But from what she understood, she arrived in Hell before the series started. Honestly, the implications of that were already mindfucky. Like. Way before. As if Vox having a box TV for a head instead of a Samsung flat TV didn't point that out. Or how Queen Lilith was renovating the castle for some reason, which implied that she was around. And well… she looked where Valentino snapped his flip phone open and seemed to text something on it.
Technology also seemed to have downgraded.
Did that mean she landed in the past somehow? Did that mean that she actually knew the future?
Who knows? But she knew one thing. And it was that she did not belong here– and she had to get out. If only things went faster. But patience would hopefully pay off. She just needed to wait… what, like… 62 days now? Something like that?
"Oi, you," she snapped back to reality. She looked back to the table and saw Vox looking at her with a scowl. "Where's my drink?"
She looked down. He… already downed it?
She gave him a service smile as her free tails twitched in annoyance, "Right away, sir," she kindly said.
Hope you choke on it.
He paid her no mind again, just humming as if his voice was behind a screen as she poured him more of the drink. She checked if Valentino's glass was empty but saw it was barely touched. So, instead, she set the bottle in the bucket of ice and walked away. Hopefully, their food was ready by now. Ven, the Venus flytrap cook, was smart enough to prioritise the overlords' meals.
And as she thought, their meals were ready to be taken. She put them on her tray and returned to the overlords' table. She quickly set the meals in front of them and gave them a service smile as she stood by their table.
"If you need anything, I will come right away," she smiled and bowed slightly. Valentino glanced at his Hell variant of lobster before he smirked widely and looked towards the three-tailed waitress. "Come then," his smirk widened.
Vox was already cutting into the steak as he rolled his eyes.
Crow's tails twitched, though her expression didn't. Her smile definitely did not reach her eyes and her laugh was as fake as them. "How funny," she forced a smile, "I'll be back with the dessert menu when you are done with your meal. Please enjoy." She bowed slightly and swiftly fucked off.
Her tails flickered in annoyance as she tended to other tables. She should have been more careful with her words. These two were arguably the most manipulative overlords in power right now. Though, to be fair, she did walk into that one.
She mindlessly poured some AB blood into a cannibal's wine glass, and they smiled sharply at her in thanks. Not that they didn't constantly wear anything but sharp smiles. Nevertheless, she returned the smile and continued with her shift. She always kept a close eye on table three, checking if they were finished with their meal yet or needed some refilling of their drinks.
After two hours, the overlords were still there, and they had finished the bottle of wine. They already had their desserts and were just discussing some things. Honestly, they were fine. If anything, it was great that they stayed so Crow had more time tending to the other tables.
A loud whispered pst! sounded behind her, and she looked back to see her manager glaring at her next to the staff-only corridor. Crow's eyes dulled at the sight. She internalised the sigh as she walked towards her manager, a pile of dirty dishes balancing on her tail. "Yes?" poured tiredly out of Crow's mouth. The manager glared.
"Why are they still here?!" they snapped, hands set on their waist as they scowled at Crow. Crow shrugged, her wings moving behind her. "They're talking," Crow said blandly. "It wouldn't surprise me if they stayed here for another hour."
"Another?!" the manager whisper-shrieked, and an actual droplet of spit hit Crow's face. Crow scrunched her face in disgust and lifted the bend of her wing to wipe her face. "That's less customers y'know! Make them leave!" the manager actually stomped on the ground like a childish, overgrown, disgusting brat. "We're losing money! And I won't be able to get home and get wasted off–"
"-on the imported white wine the owner got 30 years ago and has edible crystals inside. The one that's been in the cellar for 42 years now and, therefore, can be taken with anyone with manager clearance or above if not given to customers. The–"
Crow could have gone on for longer. The manager ranted about all their manager position perks, about how they managed to get ‘exclusive goods’, but it really was because they did more favours to the owner that Crow would rather not know about. Unfortunately for her, the manager was actually proud of it, so she had to listen to the detailed ‘bragging’.
"Yes!" the manager snapped, "And unless you make them leave, I won't be able to do that!"
And what exactly could Crow do about that? "I can't tell them to leave," she said, glancing at their table. From this distance, she could only see the wisp of red smoke but not much else. She looked back at her manager. What could she do? Pester them? That was a sure way to get on their shit list, and she'd rather not have that. Maybe she could check in on them or something? "I'll–"
The manager grabbed Crow's collar and pulled harshly to their face. Crow immediately glanced at her tray carefully, her face scrunched in disgust as she could smell her manager's gross breath. "You better make them leave," the manager spat on her face again as they spoke, "or else you'll fucking regret it."
Crow could only stare. The manager seemed to interpret that as fear because they huffed with a proud smirk and pushed Crow back as they let go of her collar. The three-tailed demon stared wide-eyed at the manager, the spit droplets on her cheek, and quickly slipped past the manager to get into the back restaurant. She quickly dropped the tray on the counter meant for dirty dishes and clenched her teeth.
Her tails were tensely whipping to the left and right. Her feathers stood up and ruffled. Her wings started to stretch upwards as she stared into the ground. The constraint of her shoes felt too small as her talons threatened to rip the shoe's fabric. Heavy, heated breaths huffed out of her mouth. Her eyes narrowed as she kept her sight on the dirty tiled ground.
She was typically a good person. She never hurt anyone without a good reason. Much less kill . But man did she want to kill that bitch asshole manager . And she knew it'd be so deserving– feel so good. But no– she was a good person. And good people didn't do that.
Right?
… Right?
Black shoes stepped into her sights. She snapped her sights up, wings further stretched, tails still as the night, all eyes open wide at whoever stepped in front of her.
Ven looked down at her.
"Calm down, idiot."
Crow scowled, "Easy for you to say," her eyes twitched, "The manager has the hots for you and wants to see me fucking boil for some reason." Her tails swished harshly behind her as she stepped towards the Venus flytrap demon, "How can they fucking say shit like that when we know they're nothing. " The small feathers that coated Crow's tails stood up, making them seem much bigger and coincidentally fluffier than they actually were. Her eyes were paper-thin slits that locked onto Ven's singular eye, "Tell me I'm wrong."
Ven lifted his large green hand and dropped it heavily on Crow's head. Her eyes twitched.
"You're not."
She wanted to glare at his face, but his hand obstructed the view. She could feel his hand's warmth penetrate through her head's feathers. Slowly, her tails slowed to a sway behind her, and her wings drooped back down. Her scowl melted to a dissatisfied frown. Eventually, Ven removed his hand. He raised a silent brow at her, crossing his arms as if asking if she was done. An angry groan slipped out of her.
He was right. Being angry would help just about no one right now… she'd have to cool off after her shift. So she instead inhaled sharply and looked unimpressed at Ven. He was just silently gazing at her. She glanced to the side, looking briefly at the bustling kitchen. The cooks seemed to jolt and flinch for a second before quickly cooking whatever the Hell they were doing. She didn't notice their sigh of relief when she looked back towards Ven.
There was no one she could trust in this shithole. But not everyone were assholes… or complete ones. She quickly wiped her face with the edge of her wing. When she was done, a smile was on her face as she looked up at Ven.
His fingers twitched as his legs froze.
She slid a foot back and winked at him, "Thanks, man," a dull chuckle escaped her, "I thought I was gonna explode." Then she frowned and huffed, pointing a tail at him, "but I'm looking for a new job. This shit is pissing me off."
If he were to let go of his crossed arm, he knew his hand would tremble. "Keep me noted," he shrugged and shifted his weight on his leg, "Don't want the curse to move to me."
With that, she turned around and walked towards the door. "I'm doing you a favour if I leave," she mused, "taking the curse with me!" She pushed the door open with her tail and walked back out. Ven stayed where he was, looking at the closing door and gulping slightly. He inhaled shakily, shook his head, and returned to his station.
Thankfully, Crow didn't pass by her manager as she walked to table three. Once again, she stood by the pristine table. But differently this time, neither overlords actually seemed angry. Thank fuck for some mercies.
"–ecrease but nothing unexpected," Vox sighed with interlocked hands. Valentino huffed out smoke from his stick. If Crow looked up, she wouldn't be surprised to see a reddish hue covering the ceiling. The moth demon twirled his smoking stick, "Don't you worry, Voxxy," he smiled oh-so-sweetly, "With the new set, I'll pump some great scenes out of my little actors," he chuckled.
Vox hummed, looking to the side as if deep in thought. He then frowned and looked at Valentino, "It better make up for the downturn." He looked down. Crow blinked in mild surprise when it looked like Vox's eyes turned into numbers that seemed to multiply, divide and do all sorts of arithmetics until he closed his eyes, and they returned to their typical red. "Or else," Vox growled, "that fucking bitch is gonna rise fast, and it's gonna be a damn," he slammed his fist on the table as his voice grew static, " mess to get back!" he snarled and harshly leaned back on his chair.
So much for them not being angry. Crow glanced to the side. They had finished the wine from earlier… maybe they'd want another? Would that make them less angry?
"Did you fucking see that shit she pulled?!" Vox shouted, glaring at Valentino, who shrugged, "As if I could let that slide?! She landed here after I did, and– the Hell?! The fucking audacity."
Typical men and their whining. Honestly, this reminded Crow of her manager. Always blabbing and angrily for no reason. At least the overlords seemed like somewhat competent individuals and weren't proud of sharing their cock sucking to get some random expensive wine… bottle…
Crow's tails swayed excitedly as a wonderful idea came to mind.
"Dear overlords, how are you doing this evening?" she asked with a genuine smile curling up her lips. Vox, apparently mid-rant, slammed his fists on the table and looked at her, his left eye rippling in black circles with red blood-like lines under his mouth. "How the fuck do you think I'm doing?!"
Her tails swayed excitedly behind her.
"Oh no, I'm so sorry to hear that," she smiled sweetly, "To bring up your mood, I've come to inform you that the staff found an unopened white crystal wine in the cellar. Paired with the freshly imported caviar, they would make a," her grin widened, " fantastic post-dinner snack."
Her wings behind her flapped softly as she physically fought herself to smile less widely. Instead, she straightened up, looking down at her customers for the evening. And, of course, the cherry on top.
"If you so wish, also on the house."
Her tails swayed excitedly.
Oh– this is great. The fucking wine and fish shit that her manager had been going on and on for weeks. The shit they had been waiting to snatch their disgusting flimsy hands on. Bragging nonstop about. Making everyone listen to the rambling and annoying talks. And frankly, it's usually paired with insults and berating.
Vox stared at the waitress, his anger melting in favour of the confusion settling in. He blinked. He glanced at Valentino at the same time the moth demon looked at him, and both returned to look at the waitress. Now, instead, suspicious filled his wires as he frowned with a cocked brow. With both hands on the table, he squinted his eyes at the waitress.
"What the—what is this?" Vox asked, pushing himself off the table to stand in full form and look at Crow. "A fan?"
Valentino chuckled and set an elbow to the headrest of his chair as he looked towards Crow. "Oh honey," his voice was like honey despite his sharp-toothed smile, "if you wanted to gift us, you could have just said so," he chuckled, his eyes curling with his smile.
It was Crow's turn to feel confused. Vox's eyes narrowed at her silence while Valentino calmly inhaled more of his smoke. Crow's expression returned to a default blank as her tails swished against the floor, swaying and curling slightly. With the two overlords looking at her, it was as if the restaurant's chatter hazed into a silence behind her. She vaguely felt like she fucked up, but why, she wasn't sure.
Vox frowned and sat back down in his seat, "Assassination attempt?" he seemed to brainstorm, "Poison?" He looked bored towards Valentino, who shook his head. "I know when drinks are spiked," he chuckled. Vox nodded faintly in agreement and put a finger to his chin as if in thought.
Crow blinked dumbly.
"Uh, no."
Not the smoothest way to cut through the seemingly wrong direction of thought these two overlords were heading in, but a cut nonetheless. Vox looked towards her. When her eyes, with blank expressions, turned to him, his smirk widened. "Awh, how cute," he mocked, "your dumb birdbrain finally clicks that giving out expensive drinks for free is suspicious? "
She bit her inner cheek as her tails twitched and swished behind her quickly before swaying normally.
"You are both overlords," she blankly said, "We want to make a good impression."
Valentino chuckled, "Oh darling," as he spoke, red smoke leaked out of his lips, "Crystal wine costs the same as a couple of Souls… " he smirked, "Besides, that little dog overlord died from it because…" he cocked his head and looked to Vox with a widening smirk. "Why again, Voxxy?"
Vox chuckled, "The wine was spiked with angelic steel needle dust," the TV demon picked up his empty wine glass and played with the stem, his finger tapping against the glass, "Moron died suffocating in his own blood."
The what now? Angelic steel needle dust? What in the fuck was… they… did they think she was going to poison them with needles?
"No, what? What? No, what the fuck. My manager had wanted the wine and caviar for like a good few weeks now, so I want to fuck up their plans," Crow sighed with scrunched brows, "If customers important like two overlords ask for it, they can't get on my case." She nodded, proud of herself for that plan. "Solid win-win for everyone here." Then she squinted her eyes and looked to the side. "Well, except for my manager, but that's the whole point."
Crow looked at the two overlords. They looked back.
Ah, wait, shit– her professionalism–
She bowed her head at them, "But mostly because you are our precious overlords, so we want to please yo–"
A sharp, static-like laugh erupted in front of her. She looked back up to see Vox leaning back into his laughter with a hand to the top of his screen. Sharp teeth. Great smile. His laughter was deep and carefree.
Her tails swayed behind her.
Eventually, Vox cooled his laughter. Valentino was looking at his business associate with an upward quirk on his mouth and trailed his amused sights back to the waitress. She looked at them with an almost blank expression, except for her brows scrunched ever so slightly in confusion and the slight upturn on her lips. Her tails swayed from the left to right, occasionally a few curling at the extremities.
Vox inhaled deeply and waved Crow off with a singular hand, "Aah– shit, " he chuckled, "Yeah– ok, get that wine."
Her tails swayed faster as she forced her smile to remain professional. Nevertheless, Vox would see how her eyes curled and twinkled with satisfaction. She smiled at Vox and Valentino, bowing softly.
"Wonderful," she purred, "I'll be right back with everything, gentlemen."
Vox huffed in amusement, his leg bouncing up and down as she slipped away.
When Crow returned a couple of minutes later, keeping her smile off her face was genuinely difficult. The look on her manager's face when she took that fucking bottle and Ven had given her the caviar toast, was priceless . Holy shit– it was so petty, and it felt so damn good. Better than sex.
After setting the plate of post-dinner foods between them, she poured the drink into new glasses for the two overlords. When the two glasses were in front of both men, she stood by the table, the bottle firmly in front of her, held by one of her tails.
"Please enjoy," she smiled, "I will be keeping a keen eye if you need refills."
Vox smirked in his drink as Valentino traced the rim of the glass with one finger with a chuckle. "Why thank you, honey," he grinned, showing his gleaming teeth, "you are just too kind to us." Crow looked at Valentono's finger, how he barely tipped his glass despite tracing the glass and then looked at his face. The genuineness of her smile melted to be replaced by a masked professionalism.
"Of course, sir. It helps to have understanding patrons," she held onto the empty tray with a tail as Valentino's smile deepened. With that, Crow bowed her head at both of them. "Please call me whenever you want, and I will…" she glanced at Valentino, only for his smirk to widen, "Arrive."
She slipped out. Valentino chuckled as he reached for his glass, his longer, slim fingers curling around his drink.
Four hours after they arrived, they decided to finally leave. Vox had just put dozens of bills haphazardly on the table, barely looking at what he dropped on the table. He shrugged when Crow asked if he wanted to change, taking his flip phone from his pocket and texting when he grumbled, "Don't care– take it." And so Crow took that as a tip, despite how it looked like Vox really just wasn't bothered to find the exact cash to pay and didn't want to wait for her to return with the change.
Literally five seconds after they left, the manager was already on Crow’s case. Yelling. Ranting. Legitimately actually crying, which was a little pathetic. Stuff about wine. Caviar. A rest day. Something. Everything the manager said went in one ear and one the other. Eventually, Crow managed to escape and, thankfully, could call it a day.
Served the manager right to spit in her face twice.