Page 38 of Shadow King
“Oh, he was just having a bad day.” Brian says this with the same enthusiasm he uses for literally everything, like terrible customers are just another fun challenge to overcome.
“He was actively trying to be horrible to you.”
“I know! But if I’m nice to him anyway, he can’t really stay mad, can he? It’s like emotional aikido. You redirectthe energy.” He grins at me like he’s just shared the secret to world peace.
I blink at him. “Did High Priestess Magdalene teach you that?”
“No, I learned it from dealing with Brian Two when he got in his moods. He’d get really worked up about the goats not respecting his authority, and if I just stayed calm and friendly, he’d eventually tire himself out.” Brian goes back to wiping the counter like this is a perfectly normal explanation for conflict resolution.
“You compared an angry customer to a cult member having a tantrum about goats.”
“Yeah! People are people, you know? Most of them just want to be heard.”
I shake my head because I genuinely don’t know what else to do. This boy. This absurdly cheerful, cult-raised, relentlessly optimistic boy who somehow makes de-escalating angry customers sound like a fun hobby.
“You’re like a sweet bunny,” I say before I can stop myself. “So sweet that even the big bad wolves can’t bear to eat you.”
Brian’s face lights up like I’ve just given him the greatest compliment of his life. “Aww! That’s so nice!”
“It wasn’t meant to be nice. It was meant to be condescending.”
“Still counts!” He actually bounces on his toes slightly, which I didn’t think real people did outside of cartoons. “No one’s ever called me sweet before. High Priestess Magdalene usually called me ‘concerning’ or ‘suspiciously cheerful.’”
“That tracks.”
“Can you call me that again?”
I stare at him. “What, concerning?”
“No! Bunny!” His grin is so wide I’m starting to think his face might actually split in half from the force of his happiness.
“You want me to call you Bunny?”
“Yes! I love it! It’s cute!”
“It’s not... I didn’t mean...” I give up because there’s no point arguing with someone this enthusiastic about being compared to small, fluffy prey animals. “Fine. Whatever, Bunny.”
His grin gets impossibly wider, which I didn’t think was physically possible. “This is the best day,” he announces with absolute sincerity.
“You got yelled at by an angry customer.”
“But I got a nickname! From my grumpy manager who’s secretly nice!”
“I’m not secretly nice.”
“You so are.”
“I’m really not.”
“You gave me a cute nickname. That’s nice.” He’s got me there and he knows it, the smug little bunny bastard.
The rest of the shift passes without incident. Except for Bunny asking me in a very loud whisper, “How is your upstairs problem,” while waggling his eyebrows alarmingly.
Thankfully, he accepts my gruff, “All under control,” without further comment.
He gets back to serving customers with his usual enthusiasm, and I make coffee and try not to think too hard about the fact that I’ve apparently adopted a human puppy. When my shift ends, I head upstairs with a strangemix of anticipation and dread that I refuse to examine too closely.
I gave Dis the remote this morning. Partly because I felt guilty about leaving him with nothing to do all day, sitting there in his circle with absolutely nothing to occupy an immortal mind. Partly because I was curious what an ancient shadow king would choose to watch when given access to human television. I’m half expecting him to be watching documentaries about military strategy or something equally pretentious.
