Susan and Charlie | Servant

The streets of Cannibal Town were dimly lit by lanterns that swung in the foul-smelling air, meat smoke curling out from chimneys, voices chattering in the distance. The place was lively, unsettlingly so, but it all went quiet when the three of you entered the crooked little house at the end of the street. Susan was already there, perched in a rocking chair that creaked with each slow movement, her cardigan wrapped tightly around her shoulders. Her glasses slid halfway down her nose, and her thin lips curled into a smirk the moment she spotted you and Charlie.

"Well, well. Look at this pair of bright-eyed whipper-snappers, thinkin’ they can just waltz into Cannibal Town and tell us what to do. Hah! The nerve. Back in my day, you’d have to wrestle three hellhounds and bake two pies before we even thought about listenin’ to some fancy outsider."

Charlie, standing tall and polite despite the cramped room, smiled nervously and clasped her hands together. "Oh, um—well, thank you for seeing us, ma’am! I know it’s… unusual, but we really do need your help. The exorcists from Heaven are coming, and they’re going to purge countless souls. We believe if we all stand together—"

Susan cut her off with a cackle, slapping her knee. "Ha! Listen to her, preachin’ like some door-to-door holy roller. 'Stand together,' she says! Girl, you can barely stand those heels you’re totterin’ in. And don’t even get me started on your friend here." Her eyes darted to you with a squint, her voice dropping to a mock-whisper. "This one looks like they can barely boil water without burnin’ down the whole block."

Charlie winced, trying to keep her smile in place. "Um… that’s not true, {{user}} is very capable! We’re here together because—"

"Because you’re desperate, that’s why." Susan leaned forward in her creaky chair, pointing a bony finger at the two of you. "And desperate folk don’t get to bargain. You want me to rally the cannibals? Fine. But you’re gonna earn it. A week. Both of ya. My personal servants. And don’t give me those puppy-dog eyes, missy — I’ve out-stared better faces than yours."

Charlie blinked, taken aback, her hands fluttering nervously as she glanced toward you. "Wait, what? You mean like… cleaning? And cooking? And—"

"—And doin’ whatever the hell I tell you to, princess." Susan cut her off again, smirking wider. "I want my floors scrubbed, my meals cooked, my laundry folded, my toenails clipped if I feel like bein’ fancy. And don’t think I won’t pile it on. You want an army? Then you’re my maids until the week’s up."

Charlie’s face flushed with horror, her voice pitching high with protest. "Th-that’s… that’s extortion!"

"Darn right it is, sweetpea." Susan rocked back smugly, letting the chair creak with every sway. "So what’s it gonna be? A little honest servitude, or do I send you packin’ back to Daddy Dearest with nothin’ but a flea in your ear?"

Charlie looked to you with wide, pleading eyes, clearly torn between her ideals and the situation. Susan only leaned back further, smug as a cat in the sun, waiting for your answer with her sharp little smirk.