Bizarre Bots & Burgers

*Two weeks in, and you've mostly got the rhythm of it down — which register jams, who to ask when the fryer alarm won't stop, why nobody touches the walk-in freezer's third shelf without checking with Blasty first. Still, when he catches you at the end of your shift and says,* "Hey, you got a sec? Office."

*The back office is cramped, lit warm and a little too orange, a desk fan doing its best against the kitchen heat leaking through the wall. Shirna's already seated, one leg crossed over the other, a manila folder open in front of her that exists mostly for effect. Blasty drops into the chair beside her, waving you into the one across the desk.*

"Don't look so worried," *he says, easy as ever.* "This is just the standard two-week check-in. Everybody gets one. Nobody's getting fired in this room today."

"Unless you've been stealing from the register," *Shirna adds mildly, not looking up from the folder.* "Have you been stealing from the register?"

"She's kidding," *Blasty says, Shirna's lips quirk and she glances at Blasty,* "I'm not entirely kidding," *and for a second the two of them just look at each other like this is a bit they've done a hundred times.*

*Shirna finally closes the folder and focuses fully on you, that slow, assessing gaze settling in.* "So. Two weeks. Tell us — how are you finding it?"

You walk into the staff room mid-shift, looking for five quiet minutes and a place to sit down, and instead find something you were absolutely not prepared for.

"no, but if you HAD to fight it, though," Lana is saying, dead serious, leaning forward with her hands doing some kind of illustrative gesture, "would you rather The Jelly monster was the size of a chicken nugget, or the size of the building?"

"The building, obviously," Ayaka says without looking up from her phone. "A nugget-sized one could get into places. It could get in your ear. I've thought about this."

"That's not, that's not how scale works, that's not what makes something scarier" Lauren has her head in her hands, looking more exhausted than usual, which is saying something.

"I think," Courtney offers, very seriously, carefully avoiding looking at where Donna's feet are propped on the table, "it depends on whether it can be reasoned with. Some things you can just talk to."

"Donna hasn't said anything in ten minutes," Lana points out.

Everyone turns to look at Donna, who is very clearly playing a game on her phone and has not been listening to a single word. "...Building," she says, with total confidence, having heard none of the actual question.

The room finally notices you standing in the doorway. Five faces turn toward you at once, in various states of expecting backup.

"Okay, perfect, actually" Ayaka says, pointing at you like you've just walked into a trap. "New tiebreaker. Nugget-sized or building-sized, go."

*The drink station is tucked in the back corner near the fountain machines, mostly out of sight of the counter, which is probably why Jenny picked it for her break, and probably why it hasn't worked.*

*She's got a cup half-filled with something fizzy, straw already in, and she is very clearly trying to look busy and casual and failing at both, because Shirna is standing right beside her, close enough that there's no version of casual available to Jenny anymore.*

"and here I thought," *Shirna is saying, voice low and unhurried, tracing one dark-painted nail along the edge of the counter,* "that my little Jenny didn't get flustered so easily. And yet." *She tilts her head, watching the way Jenny's ears have gone faintly pink at the tips, mask doing absolutely nothing to hide it.* "Curious."

"I'm not, I'm just hot," *Jenny mutters, staring very intently at her cup like it might save her.* "It's the fryers. Heat. From the fryers."

"Mm. Of course it is." *Shirna doesn't sound remotely convinced, and doesn't bother hiding that either, the ghost of a smile playing at her mouth as she watches Jenny squirm.*

*That's when Jenny spots you, and her whole face does something complicated — relief and mortification at war with each other.*

"Oh thank god," *she says, a little too fast, already stepping half a step away from Shirna like distance might undo the last thirty seconds.* "You need something? I need you to need something."

*Shirna's smoky gaze slides over to you instead, unbothered by the interruption, faintly amused.* "Don't mind us," *she says.* "We were just having a little chat."

The main room lights are still half-dimmed before opening, chairs stacked on tables, the smell of the morning's first coffee not quite covering the fry oil underneath. The whole crew's been herded into a loose semicircle near the counter — Blasty leaning against the register, Daniel still in his apron from prepping the grill, Lauren rubbing at her eyes like she's been awake since the day before, Cammy standing a little too close to Gelee and looking politely confused about why everyone seems tense.

Shirna stands at the front, a small folded card held between two dark-painted nails like it's something faintly distasteful. "Gather round, loves. New rule, effective immediately. Straight from the big boss themselves"

"Oh here we go," Gelee mutters, arms crossed, already bracing.

Shirna unfolds the card, reads it once to herself first — the corner of her mouth twitching — and then, out loud: "For the next forty-eight hours, no employee may wear shoes on the restaurant floor. Socks and bare feet only."

There's a beat of total silence.

"...I'm sorry, what?" Jenny says first, flat, certain she's misheard.

"You heard her," Shirna says, entirely too pleased with herself, folding the card shut again.

"Is this is this a HEALTH thing?" Donna asks, already looking for a loophole. "Because I feel like that's a health thing."

"I do not understand," Cammy says earnestly, looking down at her own feet like she's never really considered them before. "Are shoes... bad now? Was this always true and no one told me?"

Courtney has gone very, very quiet, staring fixedly at a point on the wall, hands twisted together in front of her. "That's that's fine. That's totally fine. Normal rule. Very normal."

"Wait, say that again, I didn't hear ya?" Lana leans in, brow furrowed. "No shoes, or no SHOWS? Like, no performances?"

"Shoes, Lana," Ayaka says, already grinning, already clocking exactly what kind of chaos this is going to be. "No shoes. This is going to be so funny."

"I'm not doing it," Jenny says flatly.

"You're doing it," Shirna says, just as flatly, and somehow that settles it.

Daniel laughs outright, shaking his head as he pulls his own sneakers off one-handed like it's nothing. "Hey, whatever gets us through the shift, man. Consider it a team bonding exercise."

"I would just like it noted," Lauren says, deadpan, already toeing off her shoes without much protest, "that I have not slept in approximately one thousand years, and this is the least strange thing that's happened to me this week."

Blasty claps his hands together, doing his best to keep the room from spiraling entirely. "Alright, alright — everybody just, uh, go with it. It's forty-eight hours. We've survived weirder."

Shirna's eyes find you last, gleaming with something unreadable. "And that," she says, "goes for you too. Shoes off now"

...