— Ah, you really are a great woman. — The girl hugged her beloved mom tightly, filling her mouth with deep gulps of beer and happily twitching her gray wolf ears.
— Oh, sweetie, I'm just worried about you; you're the most precious thing I have in this life... — the woman began to munch on a thin slice of smoked meat.
— Oh, come on! Let's skip the mushy stuff. Ooh! Let's call some guys! You have that plumber's number, right? He comes to clear our pipes every Friday, doesn't he? — the girl smiled hopefully, her eyes sparkling.
— I'll give you such guys! — The woman's face transformed, her cruel laughter ruffling the lump on her daughter's head as she regretted her words.
The girls turned their heads in shock toward the loud crash of the door swinging open, behind which a furious thunder erupted, accompanied by the night's downpour. Suspicious figures entered "The Yavora Shop" with a liberating air, bringing with them a strange aroma to the richest palace of all. One of them had a gigantic, inconsistent mechanized figure covered in sprawling cloaks and heavy, multicolored mechanisms on its back, composed of layered armor, where an interested person dragged along a luxurious amount of strange weapons that shifted from place to place, illuminated by warm, liquid materials from living minerals with little eyes.
The girls didn't even have time to understand how it squeezed through their tiny door. The modified installation somehow shrank into a dripping, multicolored, twisting hoop in multifaceted layers of bright formations, massive and acting like an additional conical waterfall, into which the silhouette placed one of the weapons resembling a two-handed sword with a frothy, pinkish-bladed katana mixed with a set of pneumatic mechanisms at the guard, swallowing light against the pirouetting rays of tiny flashes descending onto the scene. The weapon bled heavily over the edge, leaving a thick trail behind its own heavy steps. Its sharp jaws with whiskers playfully caught the vibrations of the air, occasionally washing its own little eyes.
A nimble silhouette with a powerful swing of elongated hind legs landed in front of the counter in the form of a whimsical girl with green scaly skin, splattering some uncovered body parts with a liquid, steam-releasing substance. Her youthful face, adorned with triple frog-like pupils, was tightly embraced by a cluster of prosthetics, each buzzing with separate mechanisms on her shoulders and over the protective net surrounding her entire poisonous body.
— I want a lot, a lot of marshmallows, please!!! — she immediately jumped back onto a random step, bending her long knees and intently staring at one point. Someone's fist promptly tapped against the steel plate on her right cheek.
— If you're so hungry, you should've ordered some real food. Like chicken, for example. Though with your appetite, it'd probably be three chickens and a plate of unfinished grasshoppers. — A young, short girl with a modest plump smile and transparent lipstick, along with a snub-nosed pink nose, approached from the side, peeking out from under thick, short green curls.
— I just urgently need to chew on something sweet. Nothing else came to mind. — The little frog mumbled wearily, fluttering her eyelids around her bulging round eyes.
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— D-did you kill someone? — A busty woman quietly mumbled, noticing the gigantic robot with a bloody sword and a pile of various loot behind it, while her daughter continued to scoop thick clumps of wonderful marshmallow assortment from a deep bag with one hand, causing some to salivate with poisoned drool at the sight.
A diverse cluster of a sturdy and flexible alloy in the form of assembled armor from several warriors gradually stepped aside and released the aged face of the adventurer to breathe in the viscous air, smiling politely while closing an online banking stream showcasing some unknown tax calculations, alongside which GIFs of self-portraits popped up, featuring new victims, targets, or someone's boring life story crowded near currencies.
— Aha. Cut one old man in half. Some guy named Arthur — stole two twin girls on the way home. The dude is wealthy as hell. But he's held back by his arrogant morals, haha...
Behind the main door, the silhouettes of "guards" were barely discernible, a cluster of onlookers, and a couple of small figures tightly embraced by gentle female hands amidst the LED colored headlights of cars and the neon reflections drowning in the night of Tua.
— W-what... are you... cutthroats?
— Aren't you a bit too curious, mama? — mocked an elderly man in his prime, leaning maliciously toward the worried woman's face, not noticing his hidden camera-like pupils conveniently hovering over her bust.
— He probably borrowed from Uncle Divian. — suggested his partner beside him, peering into his eyes while casually stretching the thin string of her dark thong on her partially exposed, tanned thigh.
— Hm? Not necessarily; maybe he found them himself.
— By the way, how much did you get for him?...
— Oegghh-h! Ten grand, packs, or simply put, bundles, — the older man said with disappointment on his face. — Lately, there's been one cheap piece... Oh! By the way! New tattoo!? — He barely crawled out of his fortress, around which colorful fountains flowed, just now noticing a miniature white unicorn under a delicate air rainbow that dipped just below his thigh, to which he immediately reached out with his hand, wishing to find a couple more like it. — Show me!
— R-r-r-r! I'll bite the hand off this old pervert! — she snapped back, accentuating her teeth clicking in front of the bold hand of this seasoned lecher. — I actually got it done a week ago. Only Heki has seen it so far.
— Oh, come on, don't be such a prude! — he pondered. — Wait...
— Seriously?
— What... are you a guy? — He cheerfully raised one of his thick gray eyebrows.
— Lol! Dude, we've been living in the same apartment for three years, — his partner laughed. — Haha, you're such a slowpoke.
He fell silent again, out of the corner of his eye targeting the cute smiling unicorn peeking out from under his half-jacket, half-skirt.
— So, uh... will you show your tattoo when we get there? — the older man said with interest, thoughtfully glancing at the young guy, behind whom the chubby cheeks of the marshmallow princess were already hanging, calmly washing down the contents in her mouth with dark kvass. His partner, with a half-smile that was involuntarily puzzled yet embarrassed, silently looked at his friend.
— G-gut-slasher, pervert, veteran? — the long-eared cashier squinted slightly, eyeing the ugly infantry brand "Kanpek" on his thin neck. — Are you by any chance my dad, who went out for milk 15 years ago and forgot the way back? You can still see the brand of your insane asylum...
The man froze, as if he had been struck on the head with a sack. For a few seconds, he just stared at her with an expression of complete stupor, then slowly turned his gaze to his reflection in the nearest glass.
— Hm... Went out for milk, and found... this, — he muttered, trying to process what was happening. — Alright, I'll go back in... Maybe this time life will restart properly.
With those words, he swiftly disappeared into his massive armor, turned around, and with a grunt, began to crawl back through the door, leaving behind a tiny knot of confusion and the scent of machine oil.