Disclaimer: I do not own any South Park characters or settings contained within this story, the only thing I'm close to owning is the character of Dallas who is heavily influenced by the Stick of Truth.

Dallas was practically asleep, the world a blurry haze around him, sound seeming to have to bounce for decades before it reached his ears. It was cruel and unusual to have the same employee that closed the store open it the next day, but the schedule fell as it wanted and it often landed with Dallas getting only two hours of sleep every other night. So he caught sleep when he could on the job, which was how he ended up slumped over his register. His forehead was pressed to the screen of his cash register and his hair made a green curtain around his face and shoulders.

His boss often bitched about the color Dallas dyed his hair but never made any move to formally write him up for it. Dallas, despite his salty demeanor had always had a way of getting people on his side. It had been that way since he moved to South Park ten years ago. Not that Dallas actually enjoyed that aspect of his life most of the time. Despite having a near legion of acquaintances, Dallas hated being social.

He had left his facebook page to languish years ago, too many "friends" to keep up with, with more added every day. Madness, all of it. It was exhausting enough trying to string words together to speak to people in person, much less to post an eloquent account of his day for the horde of digital onlookers. If he had tried to keep up with it each post probably would have read: "Food, worked, slept." Not a very interesting read when it's repeated to infinity. But that's how Dallas tended to be.

Straight to the point and nothing more. He didn't talk unless he had to, why would his facebook posts have any more fluff than his actual words. Mincing words was for the witty and sleeping at the register was for Dallas. He didn't generally talk to people and since the novelty of "The New Kid" had worn off people generally didn't talk to him. Well...except for one person…

"How are you not fired by now? You're asleep everytime I come in here."

Dallas didn't bother turning his head or rousing from his slumped position at all. "Go. Away." he growled.

"Finally decided to speak and that's the words you choose for a customer? Seriously are you blowing the manager or something?"

At that Dallas finally turned his head to speak to the sleep interrupter directly, one tired bloodshot eye visible from a part in the curtain of his hair. Only one person dared to risk disturbing a sleeping Dovahkiin, always the same person.

Kenny Fucking McCormick.

"You're only a customer if you buy something. You never buy anything. Go. Away." He spoke through the veil of his hair, voice scratchy from severe under use through the years. He then readjusted his head into a more comfortable position on the screen and tried to resume his sleepy trance. It wasn't that Dallas disliked the blonde, on the contrary Kenny was maybe one of three people that had heard Dallas string together more than a sentence. The fact remained, however, that anyone that interrupted his sleep would face his quiet wrath.

Unperturbed, Kenny placed his elbows on the grocery counter and leaned forward, trying to will his eyes to see passed the sleepy boy's thick hair. "C'mon D, don't be like that." No response. "Seriously D, when did your hair get so thick. Can you you not hear me through it?"

Another long stretch of silence had Kenny's grin slowly collapsing into a frown. He didn't like pulling out the big guns so early but he wasn't known for his great patience either. "Douchebag, answer me."

dallas' head snapped up like he'd just had a thousand volts of electricity shot up his spine. His head whipped around and he fixed the blonde with a glare that could melt through metal. His face was pale and his eyes sported dark bags that made his anger even more poignant, though Kenny wasn't intimidated in the least.

They held each other's eyes for what felt like hours, mischievous blue and molten angry hazel clashing in a duel of wills. Dallas could feel those baby blues draining his anger into something...different. A twitchy, embarrassed feeling that brought color to his pale cheeks. The green haired lad could feel those gooey feelings threatening to overwhelm him so he did what he always did, he lashed out before he lost his nerve.

It had been a while since he had to fight properly, but a lack of practical application didn't make the punch any more predictable. Kenny barely avoided the swing, stumbling back into the display of candies opposite of the register with a loud crash. He tensed feeling a display hook dangerously close to puncturing through his parka. If he had fallen with any more force it would have ended up lodged in his spinal cord. Not that Kenny was completely out of the woods yet, Dallas still looked pissed off enough to vault the counter.

"Don't you EVER call me that again. That is not my NAME!"

Customers whipped their heads around to stare at the growing scene. Dallas' hands both came down hard on the metal counter top with enough force to lift his entire body. Kenny tensed. Shit, he really was going to jump the counter.

Kenny pushed off of the display just as Dallas got one leg over the counter top, fist raised for another wild swing. Kenny threw up his hands to block, bracing himself for the inevitable blow, when a large meaty hand grabbed the raging Dallas by the back of the neck and hauled him bodily back across the counter.

The manager was a beast of a man, a stark contrast to the frail, old man that owned the store. He was easily able to toss the flailing and growling Dallas against the register. "Back office, get your ass there. NOW."

The smack of his body against the register along with the growled instructions set Dallas' heart back to beating at a more normal level. He turned to look at the disheveled blonde he'd nearly jumped and he felt a wave of something crash over him. Something that fell between smug satisfaction at getting the larger boy on defensive and acute crushing regret at taking a random swing at someone he considers a friend. The mix made an uneasy cocktail in his stomach, especially as guilt began overriding any feeling of satisfaction. He pressed a hand to his forehead, mashing the heel of his palm into the tender skin, and nodded as he made his way away from the register and toward the doors marked for employees only.

The green haired assailant dealt with, the gorilla of a store manager turned to Kenny. His gaze was hard and appraising, like a student poking at the innards of a frog, curious but ultimately disgusted. He could tell from the ripped jeans and dirt smudged on the boy's face and clothes that the blonde most likely didn't plan on buying anything, but with customers watching he couldn't afford to be rude. Apologies were sprouted profusely and loudly, making sure it was heard by all in the store, and finally a fifty dollar gift card changed hands.

The conflict mostly resolved the manager turned his attention to the growing sounds of a lecture coming from the employee doors, leaving Kenny to his own business. The blonde stared at the gift card for a long moment before finally shrugging and heading straight for the tobacco counter.