In my room, I model the hat in thirty different perspectives. "Wow…It kind of suits me…" I mutter to myself, smirking. "I wonder if Stan'll let me keep it? Or maybe it's just better he doesn't know?"
Thinking aloud is a habit I've kind of picked up as a human. Perhaps it's a little less hemmed-in than just humming and grumbling to myself. It feels better to present it to an audience consisted of a bunch of cobwebs…
"Hey, Bill? Mind if I come in?"
There's a soft knock on the door and the soft blue brim of a hat poking in. "Uh… you kept it the same, then?"
"I didn't actually say you could come in yet, but whatever, go ahead, invade my space, what do I have to hide?"
"Uh, right." Pine Tree walks in and closes the door by leaning on it. I remove my hat and dip myself into a steep bow, trying to control the muscles enough to keep myself from falling on the floor. "Welcome to my humble abode."
"Listen, I guess the whole thing having to do with…" He gestures to my hand. "The hat—it's going to need one more rule. Keep it all you want, but don't go near Grunkle Stan, okay? He will flip and you will be out of the job." He gives me a serious look.
"Okay, alright. No hat when with Stan Pines unless I want myself fired. Got it." I actually let this stew around in my head for a moment. I guess I really want to keep this job. It's the first time I've ever had real friends. Teasing the air between me and the turned-around back of Stan Pines wouldn't help me out with that at all. Better I keep it in my room.
"Why did you tell me all of that?"
"Oh." I blink and realize my predicament. "I kind of developed a habit of thinking out loud. It's easier to do it that way in a three-dimensional body."
"Ah. I see. So your internal thoughts really do care about keeping us as friends?" He smirks.
"I guess so. What does it matter?" I place the hat on top of an empty bronze frame.
"It doesn't. Just… Try not to think out loud in front of…Like, anyone. It's creepy, you look psycho, and you can't go spilling information like that. Like if you go talking like that, Stan will know that you're stealing from him. Or, if we eventually let you in on some important information, then you had better be able to keep your mouth shut. Or else…duct tape."
"Haha. Well, I'll try."
"Well…Try harder. Also, why did you keep the room this way?"
"I liked it, I guess." Yeah, it's kind of like when someone paints you a picture. They give it solely to you. They poured their heart out for you. You wouldn't add anything to that picture to make it "better" because it's already the best it can get.
"Wow, Cipher, that's…sweet. Also, how much duct tape again?"
"Huh?" It takes me a second. "Oh. Yeah. Right. I'll work on it."
He leaves.