Anon sat in a booth, the vinyl seats under them fully smooshed from how long they’ve been sitting down.

They were a bit upset that they had to take their younger cousins to the pizzeria just so their parents could get drunk and party without worrying about them, but at least they could let them run around and tire themselves out.

They were sipping from their cup and eating strangely orange-colored pizza before a red forearm entered their peripheral vision.

“T’yar, ye look lonely, little matey. Perhaps I coul’ fix that for ya, eh?”

They looked over and saw Foxy leaning onto their table, smiling down at them.