Aisling's first day was filled with a dreadful ringing in her ears from the racing of her own heart. Suppressed jitters ran down her spine with every billowing step that kicked at the petticoat filling out her skirt. With her ears tied in a lace-trimmed bow, ruffled straps tickling the edge of her whiskers with every turn of her shoulders, somehow, in some odd way, it left her feeling more naked than if she had left her house with no clothes at all. Self-conscious and fretting over the tiniest folds and bundling creases, she counted every hour until this exhibitionistic sensation left her chest.

The flustered heat in her cheeks lingered in the days of her training, fighting with herself to get used to the new shape while still managing to be helpful and productive in the new environment. Thankfully, the machamp training her was more than flexible with her inhibitions and catching her up with the vibe of the shop. A machamp in a dress tailored just right to fit her muscular physique, Aisling thought she would never see the day. The way she strutted with the swagger of a model on the runway, it made each day a little easier than the last.

"'Ey, Chili Bean," Effie said from the hostess bar, "Think you can handle table three by yourself?"

Aisling looked from the pile of silverware waiting to be polished, her rubbing motion halted in the presence of a new task. "Are you sure?"

"Of course! You seem to be getting the hang of things around here. It's about time you spread your wings a bit."

"Alright then," Aisling said, setting a spoon in with the rest of its spotless brethren. She stood from the table, patting out the wrinkles and sitting creases from her skirt. "I'll be off, then."

"One sec," she stopped her, "Let me fix up those ribbons for you first. Gotta look good from the front as well as the back."

One set of hands fussed with the bow in her ears while the other tidied the one sitting on her lower back just above her tail. Aisling could only manage a slight glance from her periphery, observing the machamp's feather-light meddling as best she could. Not too rough as to mangle the ribbons' fine shape but not so gentle that she couldn't get an ounce of change in her adjustments. Just the right amount of firm love and attention to get their delicate accents perfectly neat and immaculately precious.

"And there we go. Remember to mind your appearance before meeting our guests."

"Right! I'll keep that in mind next time," Aisling said with a quick nod, the chores of this aesthetic piling up by the second.

Still, work life was work and a spare second to fluff up her hair was cheap. She stroked the stray strands falling out of line, pinching and fitting them back into place as she made her way between the tables. The tables counted off in her head. Table one already served, table two still making their decision over water and table three… She'd recognized that blazing crown anywhere.

"Welcome home, master. How may I serve you this fine after—"

Click

"Oh my goodness, you look so cute!" a familiar squeal pierced her skull, the decoration tying her ears couldn't dampen the sound even a fraction of a pitch.

"Okay. You," Aisling pointed her pen at Clarice, "Are not allow to call me cute."

Click

The audino pouted behind her purse, "Aw, don't tell me you're still mad about that. After all the good news I've been hearing from Fuchsia, I thought you finally got over it."

Click

"How am I supposed to get over it when everything still feels needlessly breezy down there?"

Click

"The day I get used to a dress is the day I'll let you live it down and I don't see that day coming any time soo—"

Click

"Would you knock that off already?" Aisling snapped her attention to Felix and the pesky camera going off in her face.

"What? I've never seen you looking so adorable. I have to treasure this moment. Memorialize it for generations to come," he said, taking one more before Aisling could snatch at it.

"I'm going to snap that thing in half," Aisling snarled deep within her accent, its usual purrs edged with pepper and spice.

"That doesn't sound very maid-like."

"You—"

She couldn't do anything but shove her brow into the spirals of her notepad, tapping it away at her crest and tangling its wires into her crimson tuft. She counted the seconds, deep breaths cooling the heat in her chest and the dribbling molten embers from her heart. It was fine. They could make fun all they want, didn't stop her from receiving her pay at the end of the day.

"Whatever. So, what can I get for you today, master?" she asked, barbs constricting and suffocating the title. Her smile was like laced thorns, lips like vibrant roses and delicate petals enticing the unsuspecting to trust the lie.

"I'll take a mocha latte parfait, please," Clarice answered swiftly. A regular reply, Aisling suspected.

"A sparkling peach lemonade for me," Felix took a second longer. First time for him.

She jotted down their orders onto a notepad, the pen tip flicking with every sharp turn. "Alright, I'll go ahead and put those in for you. It'll be just a minute," she said.

She turned on her toes and stepped away in long strides that billowed her skirt and the petticoat beneath. Fresh squeals tickled her ears in her retreat but she ignored their excited whisperings. Making a marvel of the unfamiliar, relishing in this new wonder, she couldn't fully fault them for adding ceremony where there was none, but the revelation surely didn't help to keep the heat from boiling in her toes.

"Friends of yours?" the machamp asked, tracing her beeline from the hostess bar to the kitchen.

Aisling paused at the door, "Debatable."

She had their orders back in a matter of minutes, carrying the platter with practiced poise and balance.

"One sparkling peach," she set down Felix's glass first, "And one mocha latte parfait," and Clarice's followed soon after. "Please enjoy."

"Ooh! Aren't you just the cutest," Clarice said, swooning over the chocolate cookie and marbled chocolate straws garnishing the cream. "But the question is: are you as tasty as you look?"

She dug into her treat in dainty dollops of cream and chocolate mousse, eyes enraptured by the delicate balance of flavors playing out on her tongue in a harmonious chorus. A soft hum sung its praise, giddy and more than sufficiently appeased with the sister establishment's desserts. If they weren't adequately spaced within the city, they could give the main branch a run for its money.

Not that Aisling would be caught in those lacy waves and fae waters off the clock. One lolita themed café was more than enough for her tolerance.

"So what made you start working at a place like this?" Felix asked, lips idling on his straw. "I thought you hated dresses and frills. Unless… have you been hiding your feminine side from me this whole time?" His tone turned hurt, betrayed and deceived, while his fingers played in the dramatics by hiding the misery in his dropped jaw.

Aisling gave a soft sigh, the smile plastered on her face leaving hardly the space nor room to deal with his antics. She let the curl of her lips fall behind a hand that pinched at the bridge between her eyes.

"You are really testing my patience," she said, letting the façade of customer service falter. "Cut me some slack, will ya? I am trying to keep this job, you know." She threw her hand onto her hip, a raised brow questioning the weight of his friendship verses the amusement of his teases and pranks.

He waved at the scowl, fluttering appeasements waiving the expense of his fun on her shoulders. "Fine, fine. No more teasing. So, why'd you start working?"

"'Cus there's stuff I want to buy, why else? You have a lot of nerve asking that after getting me hooked on Sweet Buffet."

"So this is all for Coco?" he asked, cheeky monkey that he was.

Aisling felt no need to admit to the obvious, not when the simple affirmation left a swell of flustered beats throbbing in her throat. Although, they were all SweetTooths stuck within the same grind of craving their breath and worshipping their songs, there was this strange awkwardness pulsing through her heart at the very thought that she wore this dress and decorated herself in these bows all for one trinket. And how that one trinket grew and expanded and translated to what little ways she could show her idol she loved her music and wanted to hear her songs for as long as the universe would let her.

It was an obsession she could admit to in her heart, but not to the world. Not with words, at least. Actions were easier. Actions were louder. As long as she had the means and the funds to express her undying adoration, to declare she admired her for who she was and what she gave, then she didn't have to say a word.

"Oh! Speaking of which," Clarice broke her silence, spoon lingering in her mouth from the last chocolatey bite, "Did you go drop off that deposit for the 'you-know-what'?"

She gave a soft huff, clearing her throat and mind of baseless worries and adopting a sincere grin that pushed the heat in her face to the apples of her cheeks. "Of course! Took care of that day one."

"You-know-what? What are you two talking about," Felix asked, looking between the two.

"Nuh-uh, that's exclusive information for Coco fans only," Clarice said with a tick of her finger.

"You girls and your secret clubs," Felix muttered into his drink.

Clarice giggled, "You don't have to sulk about it. We'll let you in on the next secret, okay?"

"No, no. By all means, keep your secrets to yourselves. I've got my Cinna-bros to keep me company. Just kinda sad to see this child I nurtured and grow blossom into her own. Now it's like our friendship doesn't do it for her, anymore," Felix said, drowning himself in giant gulps of the fizzy drink.

"I invite you to game night every weekend, what are you even talking about?" Aisling said while Clarice soothed and petted the lamenting infernape as if he was the sorriest looking primate on two legs.

She wished the audino didn't play along with his dramatics, it just spurred him on to make bigger, grander displays of himself…

"Hey Chili Bean, can I get you to bus the tables for me?" Effie called from the cashier's desk, too busy with the checks to deliver the request at a closer proximity.

"Yeah, I'll get right on it," Aisling called back. She turned to the two, "I've got to get back to work. Call me if you guys want any refills."

She turned back to her stage, dawning the charade of carefree ribbons and fluttering petticoats. Their teases left much to be desired in their mascarade but they had their fun until their bellies were full on sugar and laughter. At the very least, their joking made for good practice, having nothing to worry about in her service when satisfaction was guaranteed the second Aisling said hello.

"So," Clarice stood at the checkout counter, "Real talk, you really doing alright here? If you're seriously uncomfortable, I'll talk to Fuchsia for you."

Aisling, tapping away on the register and double checking their expenses were all in order, smiled under a light breath. "Thanks, but I'm okay. It was an adjustment but everyone's been really nice about it. Besides," she leaned in a little closer, her voice burying itself in the hush of a secret, "If it's for Coco's songs and smile, this much is nothing."

"Heh, a true Coco fan through and through," she smiled back, hand over the coins for her tab plus a couple extra.

"Same to you. Thanks for looking out for me…"

Somehow, the pokémon around her had to be the most pushy, annoying busy bodies about seeing to her happiness and wellbeing, but if she had to go back and do it all again, she wouldn't have it any other way.

~uwu~

Aisling continued to work towards this new normal with every new shift punched onto her employee card. Smiles became more natural, scripted greetings coming like a second breath. Yes, she had quite the knack for learning routine. She was quick about it when her mother asked her to start helping out with the babies. She was even quicker when she learned the training regiments of professional leaguers and adopted them into her daily schedule to build up her muscles and stamina for the sport. If she could handle pick-ups, drop-offs and a five-kilometer run a day, there shouldn't be a single doubt in her mind that she could do this.

She could do this.

She could do this.

She couldn't do this…

Booths were not a problem. A party of five felt like nothing. But the gathering of a blaziken, a gardevoir, a flaaffy, a roserade and, Arceus please spare her, a lopunny was way more than her heart could possibly bear. How was she supposed to serve Sweet Buffet with a straight face? How was she supposed to talk to them without having her chest implode on the spot? She couldn't do this. No way could her legs work long enough to get through this service.

"What're you doing on the floor there?" Effie asked her, scooping her up from her crumbled mess left huddling on the floor. "No slacking off, you got a booth waiting for that dazzling smile of yours."

"Yes, about that… You think I can switch tables with someone?"

"No can do, Chili Bean. Everyone's already knee-deep in their own work," she said, her usual fussing keeping her collar and straps neat and trimmed.

"Right. Of course…"

She placed a pair of hands on her hips, the other crossed over her chest. "C'mon, don't tell me you're getting cold feet."

"What? No! Not at all. I've never known a frigid day in my life," Aisling said, waving off the concern.

"Great! Then get out there!"

The machamp gave a mighty slap to her backside, launching her forward several spaces and nearly toppling her onto her knees. Aisling caught herself before her tights could touch the floor, eyes peering over her shoulder for some kind of second thought or new task that was better suited for a rookie like her. But no, all Effie's face had to offer was a reminder to smile, the tips of her fingers pressing to the corners of her lips and holding their upturn bright and cheery.

Aisling mirrored the gesture, though the twitching in her brow left a little to be desired. Escape was impossible. Her fate, inevitable. She had to talk to them, pretend they were just as important as every other guest that sat in that booth. Act as she always had and see this through from the first glass to the final bill.

Rationally speaking, they really were no different than anyone else. They ate like every other pokémon. They slept like every other pokémon. And, when nature called for it, they went to the bathroom like every other pokémon.

Aisling had to retract that last thought, shaking it loose before the image it conjured could take root. So weird, why did she have to be so weird about this. Don't be weird, Aisling, don't be weird. She repeated the mantra so many times in her head that it bent and morphed into rolling petals blown helplessly in whistling gusts. Hushed, rapid breaths billowed strings of scattered roses past her lips in hurried purrs and eager lashes.

For a moment, she thought it was working. For a moment, the throbbing in her ears calmed just enough to hear the steps pushing her closer to the booth tucked away in the corner of the dining room. For just a moment, she could breathe and think and pretend her insides weren't a tangled, sweaty mess. For just a moment, but mere moments were never meant to last.

"Welcome home, masters. How may I—"

"It's the floppy cinderace!" Cream slapped her hand to the table, an amused stub pointing over her mates at Aisling's approach.

Aisling hoped desperately that that wasn't how her existence circulated through their idle conversations.

Coco peered over her shoulder, rosy intrigue piercing through the frills and ribbons like the countless fluffy layers were like tissue paper. Aisling couldn't help fiddling with her ruffles, pinching and picking at the trimmings in her apron and fighting with the wrinkles in her skirt. Did she look weird in a dress? Of course she did! Cinderace don't do dresses like this. Not with all these bells and whistles.

She questioned her life's decisions, pulling up every choice she ever made that led her into this dreadful trap. But before she could get past her childhood battling her siblings for television rights, Coco's soft giggle brought her back to the present, her smiles and charms reserved for the glamorous stages—miles away from the cheer of batons calling their names—shined brightly just for Aisling. Perhaps it was because she could sense the growing anxiety welling up in her throat. Or maybe she sympathized with her plight, performing for strangers as if she was born to bask in their gazes. Either way, the delicacy in her eyes and the enchantments on her lips melted away her worries like so many winters before the spring.

"Oh my," she hid the delight in her voice behind petite fingertips, "Isn't this quite the coincidence?"

"Coincidence?" Cinnamon spoke up at the opposite edge. "Coincidence my ass!"

"You're causing a scene," Mint reeled her back with a gripping hand.

"Did you follow us here or something? You some kind of stalker?" Cinnamon asked, pointing her accusations on a devastating talon.

"N-No, not at all! I just started working here not that long ago. Two weeks at most! I had no idea that you guys came here," Aisling said, waving her hands and nicking her crest with the notepad in her flails.

"Yeah right! Mint, out this creep!"

"She's not lying," Mint said between her quiet sips of water.

"Yea- Wait, what?"

"She's. Not. Lying. She had no clue we meet here and is just as flabbergasted as you are. Although, your loud panicking isn't making the emotional air of this situation any less stressful. So, take a couple breaths, drink some water and cool your jets."

"I… You…"

Cream giggled like giddy bubbles popping against dandelion seeds. "Mint scolded you," she teased.

"Shut up…" Cinnamon muttered against her glass.

"Can we order now?" Melon asked, speaking up from behind a menu.

"Oh! Yes, of course," Aisling said, arming her notepad and pen. "What can I get for you?"

"I'll have a cup of hibiscus tea, iced, and a slice of apple pie à la mode," Melon said.

"A chai latte for me," Mint said next.

"Hm…" Cream hummed and mused over a page, "I think I'll do the raspberry mocha parfait today. Ooh! Can I ask for an extra dusting of sugar on top?"

"Don't give it to her. The usual dusting is plenty," Mint said before Aisling could make a note of the request.

"Stingy…"

"Five orders of beignets and a tall choco-shake," Cinnamon shoved her menu to the center with the others.

"Is that to share with the table?" Aisling asked.

"You pickin' a fight?"

"Oh, uh…"

"Don't take her seriously," Coco said, her reassurance pulling her in with a gentle touch that edged on Aisling's knuckles. "She's a lot more tame than she lets on. But if you're feeling a bit scared, then I'll protect you from the big, bad chicken," she said, a purr brushing past her hand as she brought her fingers up to her nuzzling cheeks.

"What'd you call me?" Cinnamon said with a growl.

Coco's laugh grazed her fur, sending warm shivers up Aisling's wrist and ticklish tingles through her spine. There was a rule about being physical with the maids, certain restrictions that kept their staff safe from unsolicited touching and harassment. Aisling was certain Coco was more than aware of this rule, that she knew to adhere to its policy lest she wished to be banned from the establishment. But with this warm sensation sending her heart into a rolling boil, how could Aisling consciously call this kind of touch unsolicited. It would be more of a lie to say that she didn't appreciate the special treatment, as shameful as it was.

As long as it was just her hand, it was fine, right?

"Coco," Mint drawled, the name dragged by its ear in an assertive jingle. "How is our waitress supposed to put our orders in while you're holding her captive?"

"I'm doing no such thing," Coco's hand slipped out of reach, fluttering to her chest and holding herself in innocence. "Right, Aisling? Oh, but it's Chili while you're working, isn't it?"

Oh dear, sweet Arceus, did her name sound just right on those sultry lips… No! Aisling stopped herself before she fell any further. Now was not the time to fangirl, she still had a job to do.

"No," her accent slipped, "No, not at all. Uh, so, um, what was it that you wanted again?"

Coco's amusement was endless, mirth spilling from her lips in buckets. She hid her widening grin behind her cuffs, letting the fluff muffle her giggles. "Sorry, a passionfruit half and half, please," she said, the laughter in her heart calming to warm contentment as she focused her giddy mind on gathering the menus. She collected them with a short clap against the table before handing them over.

"Certainly. I'll put those in for you," Aisling said, taking the menus from her while fighting to keep her fingers steady. The slightest graze of Coco's fingertips brushed against her own, making her hands recoil faster than any maid ever should. "I'm sorry! I'll go get your drinks right away!" she said in her flustered retreat.

Her feet shuffled and scurried between the tables and over the glossy finish of the floorboards, unable to tell if the heat between her toes was adding a new scorching character to its polish or if that warmth was all in her buzzing head. She couldn't look down. She couldn't look back. She could only charge forward like a one-way locomotive set firmly in her tracks, full steam pistons whistling in her ears and clouding the world over with its incessant ringing. But there was another body idling on her railing and Aisling had just barely enough sense to skid herself into a stop before an impending crash shattered a new clamoring character into the hardwood floors as well.

"Whoa, slow down there, Chili Bean," Effie said, raising two arms up and two forward to put the brakes on Aisling's frantic motion. "What you rushing about in a fluster for? You feeling sick? Stomach turning something fierce?"

Aisling looked up to her manager, the searing heat in her flesh still adding a dazzling tinge to her eyes. She shook her head quickly, ribbons fluttering like scattering butterflies against the wind. "Nono! Not at all. Just gotta get these orders in! Don't want to keep the girls waiting," she said with an inching insistence pushing her towards the kitchen.

Effie's arms relaxed, orders returning to their natural balance. "Well, slow down before you end up breaking something, alright? A bit of zeal is fine but we don't want you hurting yourself," she said, eyes following her charge as she began to slip into the backroom door.

"Yep! Mmhm! Of course! Won't happen again, boss," Aisling nodded her head emphatically, keeping the motion going even ask the door swung shut against her cotton tail.

Out of sight of her managers and coworkers, Aisling took the chance to catch a couple of breaths and ease the busting bass in her chest into a mellow beat. She rubbed at her cheeks and patted her whiskers until she could feel the sting of her slaps numbing her bashful hues.

"Get it together, Ashe. Get it together. You've come too far and worked too hard to lose it now…"

Her murmurs divulged into a second tongue, urgent whispers turning the rose garden on her lips into a hectic maze of clinging vines and thorns. Their prickled barbs sliced through the mist of her starstruck eyes, reminding her of the strength and tenacity passed down to her from generations long before her time. She was her mother's daughter and her mother raised all her kittens to traverse hardship with pride in their eyes and passion in their soles.

"Right then!"

She returned to the idols' booth composed, elegance carrying the tray of sweets and drinks with the grace of a well-established maid to nobility. Her approached garnered the attention of the table but she paid no heed to their eyes watching her every glide and stride, no matter the alluring stare boring hot caverns into her chest.

"Pardon the intrusion, miladies. I've your orders ready for you," she said, following her script to a tee lest she lose her practice and composure with a single flick of a cotton-stuffed wrist.

She settled the plates down in their places one by one, circling the booth from one end around to the other and receiving tips of gratitude as she went. The poise and physical condition of an athlete kept her well balanced in her distribution, the serving tray's center standing immaculate along her fingertips. Was it a show of boasting?

Well, even in a dress, a cinderace still held her pride.

"And your passionfruit half-and-half, madam. Please enjoy," she said, rounding off the last glass with a delicate thud in front of the waiting lopunny.

Rosy eyes inspected the drink, looking into its rich colors and fragrant aroma before turning that same admiring gaze up the length of her waitress uniform, past the bows and frilled curves to the calm so carefully placed on her brows and placid smile. She found something delectable in this fresh breath, an irresistible flavor radiating in a billowing charisma as passionate as the fruit that made up her blend.

Her intentions concealed themselves behind fluttering lashes and hid even further beneath the sampling sips that waded their way through her refreshment. "It tastes a little sweeter than usual," she said, the comment idling as nonchalant as the lips that spoke it.

"Really? I'm sure our beverage maiden didn't intentionally make any changes," Aisling said.

"No, I'm sure she didn't. It must be because I had an absolute sweetie serving it to me," she said with a breathy giggle that carried her chest like carefree clouds on a sunny breeze.

Oh, she was sly. How she called her eyes like a wandering gazer who had nothing but the sky to keep her company. She'd lock her in a loop of lackadaisical shapes adorned by silver linings if Aisling hadn't bitten through the cunning spell.

"You nearly had me there. I thought for a moment there was really something wrong," she said with a sigh. "You're flattery is too much for me. All I did was bring you your order."

"You'd be surprised how much a pretty face makes a difference in this business."

Eyes hotter than the fires in Aisling's stomach turned to sear their smoldering gaze into her soul, a whisper seeping through the cinders insisting that the new maid in service take the wisdom of a veteran. It was best not to question such a gaze. Even better to not stare into it too long, but she couldn't help wondering the meanings behind her smile and the depths behind her words.

"Didn't we come her to get some work done?" Cinnamon asked, beak gnawing at the straw in her shake glass as her own stare stabbed into the tender spot where Coco had settled her ministrations.

Aisling retreated, "Oh, I'll get out of your way, then. Please let me know if you need anything," she bowed out, turning on her heels back the way she came.

She could hear them still talking even as her feet carried her in a dignified glide. "Can't I have a little fun without you getting in my way?" Coco's tongue held of bitterness of deep, rich cocoa untampered by the sweetness of milk and sugar.

"Can you act like an idol that doesn't flirt with her fans?" Cinnamon answered with her own spice, a fire raking through the air and suffocating the throat of anyone who dared think they could take her raw.

"Easy, you two. We're supposed to be finishing this together, not going at each other's throats," Mint interjected, chilling the heated brew before it boiled over into an uncontrollable mess.

"She started it!"

"And I'm finishing it." Mint turned her address to the opposite end of the table, "Coco, we're not writing a love song here, so maybe save the sweet seductions for another time, alright?"

Coco, in a reluctance that mapped out every inch of her rolling eyes, conceded in a smirking sigh, "Fine, I'll dial it back. But only because you asked nicely."

"Much appreciated. Now then, Mel, where are we with the melody?"

"It's progressing but I'm having trouble getting the bridge just right," Melon said, her voice sticking to her straw.

"Yeah? Let me have a look," Coco moved deeper into the booth, huddling against the roserade's shoulder and blending creamy clouds of luscious fluff with feathery petals scented in spring dews.

Aisling couldn't help following that delicate melody spilling from the idol's lips, a slow, meticulous tempo working through every hum and harmony scribbled onto the page. There wasn't much to be said on incomplete work, not even the type of sound that would come out on the other end, but it held Aisling's ears, keeping her at the edge of her seat as she stood by the bar with the tray lingering at the tip of her fingers.

That playful hue in the roses of her eyes was traded for a more sterned, discipline look, an untouchable air seeping from pondering fingers. She moved an ear behind her shoulder, gliding cascading mocha cream in one fluid motion that allowed the afternoon's sun to grace the passion fluttering her lashes and dedication caressing her lips.

Coco's eyes found her stares, catching her breathless stupor seizing her heart and lungs. She smiled; a quiet turn of the lips completely different from her idol's greeting but alluring all the same. The small wave that came with it reminded Aisling of where she was and where she needed to be, her heart racing to catch up to the seconds lost marveling their subtle glamors.

She rushed to find busy work to occupy her time. Tables to bus. Dishes to clean. Linens to fold. Anything to reset her mind back into waitress mode. Anything to keep her eyes from wandering back to those little mannerisms and habits flowing from delicate fingertips.

No other hour of her life was as brutal and agonizing as waiting booth three. Not even volley strikers tryouts worked her heart so thoroughly into maddening exhaustion.

"Thank you and please come again!" Aisling gave her farewell at the door, dipping her head in her curtain call to the performance.

The door clicked beyond her smile, its upturn held by one or two fraying stitches ripping into her cheeks. That finality ringing through her head gave her the relief her mind and body so desperately needed, barreling a sigh through her slouched head and slumping shoulders. A soft prayer spoken on wilted petals fluttered past her lips, hands pressing into her eyes as every frill and lace pulled her mind into the weight of her masquerade. How she managed to keep herself from turning into a squealing, obsessing liability, she'll never truly know, but she hoped that she would never have to face the facade again…

~uwu~

"Chili bean, you've got a request at table seven," Effie said, popping her head into the changing room.

Aisling slipped the podcast talk filling her ears with sweet, relaxing healing from her head, pausing the discussion before she missed even a second of Coco's easygoing chatter.

"What? Are you sure they want me?" she asked, skepticism keeping her legs from raising at the call.

"You bet! This is your first request, right? Make sure you add a bit of extra charm so they come back wanting more, got it?"

"Right!"

Aisling shot up from her seat with a new pep in her step, stashing her ConnNav and the headphones connected to the Choco Parfait Podcast back into her belonging's locker. She never thought she'd have someone request her service out of their roster of experienced maid staff. Sure, she was up there with the rest of them for selection but that felt more like a formality than a possibility. But Effie always assured her that there was a type for everyone and Aisling definitely served a type. A bit of fluffing, she had considered, building up her confidence as she moved from trainee to full-time. But now it was actually happening, and with it a generous commissions bonus. With this, she'll be able to pay off her idol's gift and even have enough left for her solo CD at their next event. The joy beaming from her face provided an excellent foundation as she made her way down the hall and into the dining room to meet her first request.

"Thank you for selecting me, Master. I'm Chili, I'll be taking care of you to… day…" her voice trailed into a stumbling stupor, finding her breath steadily catching in her throat with each intake.

This lopunny sitting at her table, the way her rosy eyes filled in their delight as cotton clouds parked on beds of rich chocolate, that smile daring to play on the line between innocence and suggestion and that leaning curve amplifying the shape of her velvety body, both hanging on every reaction and leading their thrilling sensations, there was no mistaking this lopunny for the only one that could turn her day into a flustering, hot mess.

"Ooh, you really did come out. I've never done anything like this. It's exciting, isn't it?" she asked, giddiness tracing her connecting fingertips.

"Coco? Why are you—"

"Ah-ah," she ticked a finger at her, "Coco is my stage name. And last I checked, I'm not performing today. You're going to have to go with something else."

Aisling stammered at the sudden correction, "Then, what should I call you?"

She giggled, "Just call me Eris. Or perhaps Lady Eris would be more appropriate in this situation."

"Lady Eris?" she parroted on a breathless whisper.

"You got it! Oh, but my real name is supposed to be a secret so be sure to keep this between the two of us, okay?" she said with a wink, her lips kissing a shush against her finger.

"Just… between us?"

She laughed again, "You feeling like a baby chatot today?"

"N-No!" her accent slipped. "I mean, no, that's not it. I just can't wrap my head around this. I mean, you're here asking for me when you know that I'm…"

"A fan of mine?" she raised a brow.

"Yes! Isn't that… Should that be allowed? Cinnamon seemed so worked up about it, won't you get in trouble?"

"Why would I get in trouble?"

"Isn't she the leader?"

"Her? Leader?" Eris hid her laughter behind cotton cuffs, muffling the hilarity and glee filling her voice with cackle after uncontrollable cackle. "Oh, she would love that," she breathed on snickering remains, "No, she isn't our leader. Cream is and she doesn't care how I spend my time and attention. So relax, let's enjoy our time together. I certainly will."

Relax. Right. Easier said than done…

"So then, is there anything I can get you started with, Lady Eris?" she asked, the name's taste on her tongue biting at the insides of her cheeks with its overwhelming sweetness.

"Let's see," she mused over the menu, sliding an ear behind her shoulder and keeping its obstruction from hiding her pondering profile, "The passionfruit half-and-half was delicious but I'm feeling like trying something new today. What would you recommend?" she asked, sharing the menu at the edge of the table.

"You want my recommendation?"

"Of course. You do have a couple, don't you? Or do you not like the drinks here?"

"No, I do. They're really good so I've tried a bit of everything."

"Oh, perfect! Then can you tell me which is your favorite? I want to try it."

A smirking anticipation filled her lips, beckoning Aisling closer to share in her air. There was a subtle aroma settled in her fur, one that only became apparent when she found herself lured in by baiting fingers idling for their selection. Warm vanilla, maybe? Perhaps a bit of jasmine, too? Such a lovely fragrance, she wanted to lie in it. Roll in it. Blend it with her scent and sleep with it on her pillows.

Was that creepy?

Definitely a little creepy.

But sweet things were sweet and delicious smells were pleasant. It wasn't like she wanted to ask for Eris's perfume so she could spray it on her bed sheets. Maybe think about it a little but never give the idea breath or solid shape. Besides, it would be nothing but a pale imitation, anyway, unable to replicate the nuances that made the fragrance beloved in this very moment.

Her own scent wasn't unpleasant, was it? Perhaps she shouldn't lean so close. She could see the menu just fine outside of her bubble. It was more appropriate to leave some breathing room for her lady. However, before she could return that personal space back to her, a finger found the strap of her apron, wrapping it once around the delicate shape and tugging only slightly to keep her in range of her breath.

"You haven't told me your favorite yet," she whispered beside Aisling's flustering gaze, "C'mon, I want to share your taste, so let me have a bit of your flavor. In drinks, of course."

"Oh. Um… the starfruit passion cocktail, then. I really like tropical fruits so it rose to the top of my favorites in no time," she said, rationing her breath between each syllable so its resource wasn't depleted before it reached her head. But with the dizziness clouding her thoughts, she had a feeling her measurements were a little faulty.

"Is that right?" she lingered a second longer, tilting her head under Aisling's chin and tickling her whiskers.

"Does it… not suit Lady Eris's preferences?" she asked but she had no idea how anyone was supposed to hear her over her own pounding heart.

"Oh no, it suits me just fine," Eris decided, slipping her finger free and releasing her captive, "I'll try the starfruit passion. Oh, and a slice of strawberry shortcake, if it's not too much trouble."

Aisling stumbled back, a hand pressing to her chest as she urged her heart to calm down before it burst in its frenzy. "It's… It's no trouble at all. I'll put those in for you right away. If you'll please excuse me, Lady Eris."

She hurried herself to the juice bar, praying that each step would work her heartrate down and settle the searing sensation tempting her feet to leave its scorched footprints. But it didn't want to go down, not the blood rising in her face or the temperature adding its fever to her head. It was still stuck on her, the brush of her finger as it grazed her chest, the delectable scent wafting from her body and filling her nose with every breath, the tingle of furs mixing and blending together in the sly minglings and rendezvous. It all clung to her with their parasitic feelings and troubling thoughts, whispering temptations and suggestions of something more beyond the admiration and idol craze. Something… sinister and dirty.

No, no, no. This was just… a persona! A game! A playful tease, impish fanfare. She was just having a bit of fun and Aisling didn't blame her for taking delight in her reactions. They were pretty funny, weren't they? And to think she could make her Coco smile and laugh from just a little of her flirtatious play, well that was fine too. Her smile was healing. Her laugh, enrichment for the soul. Yeah, if she thought about it that way, she could calm down and go along with the ploy. They were all wearing masks here on this grand stage, why couldn't she play her part along with her mischievous mistress?

She found her second wind in the time it took to have her lady's cocktail prepared, the initial surprised depleted from her jittery veins and a semblance of composure returning to her heart. Like this, she won't let her emotions fall into the sway of her mistress's tricks. They would be under her authority and command, the control leaving her the headspace necessary to complete her role with competence.

What kind of maid would fit her game?

Perhaps one long-since adapted to her lady's temptations and seductions? Always showing her embarrassing side, the character would provide Aisling an opportunity to display a cooler, more reliable angle of herself. But would that come as too much of a surprise? When had Eris ever thought of her as cool?

So then… carry on as the flustered klutz? But that didn't feel right either. Really… keeping loyal regulars was a lot more work than serving the ordinary guests.

Whatever, Aisling thought, expelling her relented worries with a sigh. As long as she didn't let her emotions mess her up too bad, it was fine. Just don't make a fool of herself and don't break anything and everything else will go just fine.

She took the tray over to Eris's table, careful with the balance of the drink and dessert so neither presentations were disturbed on their commute. She occupied her mind in the way the strawberry stood on its bed of pearly white frosting, its color deep and vibrant without a single blemish to distract from its juicy and plump texture. The sponge cake was light and fluffy and the way their chef cut into the layers allowed each piece to stand on its own merits, stacked into an alluring display that tempted even the stingiest sugar misers for a taste of the sweet treat.

Did Eris like things like this? Did she like strawberries? Did she care if the cake slice looked cute or was she fine if the layers were a little sloppy? And what about her own recommendation? She said it suited her fine but what if she didn't care for starfruit or pineapples? Did she mind if it was a little tart? So many questions just from one glass and a single slice of cake. She wanted to know. She wanted to ask, but the questions dissolved from her tongue as her eyes found her lady ruminating over the page.

A pen hung on her lips, teeth tempted to gnaw on the nub but refusing to commit to a bite. Her eyes narrowed in on the lines, finding potential between the spaces and moving to follow that spark, but dead-ends hit the drying ink sitting at the pen's tip before its head could kiss scribbles to its surface. A deep breath pushed at her shoulders, furrowed brows pinching in her frustration. Was this the same song causing Melody a bit of trouble or a new work with its own fresh bit of agitation? Well, either way, it seemed like she could use the break now more than ever.

"Lady Eris?" she pulled her out of her slumped posture, "Sorry for the wait. I've got your cake and cocktail here for you." She set the dishes down, mindful to not let their edges touch the ramblings littered in their own creative web of sense.

"Oh, perfect timing. I thought my head was going to explode any second if I didn't get some sugar in me soon," she said, gathering up her mess and transforming it into a tidy, little corner on the far side of the table. "Is this the starfruit passion cocktail? It looks good."

She started with the glass, pulling it closer to her lips and sipping from the straw. She sucked in a generous sample, letting it fill her mouth with its pureed sweetness and juices. Her immersion was interrupted by the sharp flavor, the drink's sour edge adding a pucker to her lips as she shrinked back from the rim.

Aisling's heart leaped in her throat, "Sorry, I should have warned you it'd be a little sour," she said, pressing the tray to her chest.

Eris shook the tingles out of her ears, "Don't be. I had a feeling it might. Besides, I don't mind sour drinks." She took another sip, the initial shock diluted and her tongue braced to face the full flavor spectrum within the beverage. "It's actually quite nice. The first taste is pretty intense but once you're used to it, it feels really refreshing. Especially that sweet aftertaste. So, this is your favorite drink. I feel like I know you a little bit better now."

The smile on her lips felt nothing like the one on her stage of glamor and lights. The one behind the counter, greeting fan after fan with courtesy and appreciations was somehow duller compared to the beaming grin. Just when she thought she couldn't shine any brighter, she managed to twist her heart with a radiance so new and blinding it felt like she was meeting her again for the very first time.

Eris let out a breath of relief as the fork topped in sponge cake and frosting fell past her lips, enthusiasm's chomp biting the silver in getting the sugary morsel off its pronged tip. "Now this is healing at its finest. Good sweets. Good drinks. And a beautiful cinderace to tie it all together," she said in a toast, raising the glass and taking a sip before puckering with a delighted giggle.

Aisling swallowed her startled heart. It seemed no amount of bracing was enough for such raw compliments. It took a second gulp to see it down, breathing in deep through her cleared airway.

"Lady Eris," her flushed heat added a tinge of crimson passion to the title, "I… I really need you to stop doing that. That kind of flattery, I don't think my body can take it coming from you."

"Oh!" Eris hid her blunder behind petite fingers, "I'm so sorry if my teases made you uncomfortable," she said, her brows worried for the trouble she caused.

"I wouldn't say uncomfortable is the right word for it. It just feels… a little hot," she admitted, a finger fiddling with her collar as the fur around her neck flustered with her rising temperature. "It'd be bad if I scorched the floorboards, so…"

Eris stared at her, expectations fluttering away with her astonished lashes. The stunned color in her eyes, frozen and pale in their stillness, reignited in an overflow of giddiness and mirth, her hands catching the sputtering giggles as if they could be swallowed back into her chest.

"Oh dear. No, we wouldn't want that. I really am sorry for putting you on the spot. It's just that," her head rested on the clouds of her cuffs, watching her through a blissful dream, "I really like you so I can't help wanting to see your cute side."

"You like me?" Aisling asked, pointing at herself lest she mistake such a confession for someone else's ears.

The question killed the dream, dancing whimsy falling into slumber and tucked away behind composed lids. "Well, I guess it's more appropriate to say I'm intrigued," she said, drowning the twists and tang of restraint in the flavors of her juice. She looked into the beverage's depletion, idly stirring the half-empty glass and playing a clanging tune with the ice, its pitch like twangs against the piano keys. She hid something in its discorded melody, but before Aisling could catch a glimpse of its secrets, she turned her smile back to her, silencing her curiosity with pretty eyes and sly lips. "You're very eye-catching, you know? If I wasn't working, I would have wanted to have a nice conversation like this. Oh, but I guess you're the one working now, huh?"

"It's okay. Requested maids are expected to give extra attention to our guests, so…"

"Really? Well, that's a relief. I was worried I would be getting you in trouble talking for so long. Anyway, long story short, I've been wanting to get to know you. And I'm a bit of an opportunist so the second I found out you worked here, I was determined to milk this for all its worth," she said, flashing a cheeky grin above a purr.

"That's kind of wicked…"

Eris shrugged her shoulders, "Sorry I'm a bit wicked. Are you going to change favorites now?"

The very suggestion boiled her blood, its heat burning with a rawness that made even her teases and flirtatious quips come across as lukewarm in her chest. This fervor pounding through her flesh… She knew full well the comment was nothing but a joke, meaningless words building upon a hollow, worthless speculation. But she couldn't let the assumption live, couldn't let their words fly to see another day.

"No way! Never!" she said, the declaration nearly shaking her ribbon loose, "Even if Lady Eris is a little wicked, it doesn't change the fact that Coco's singing saved me. For that, I could never change my favorite. Coco is still number one."

Eris, completely flabbergasted, sat speechless and slack jawed as a deep crimson hue took over her face. Her body forgot its subtleties, forgot the delicate turns of her fingers and the sleek rhythm of her turns and curves. The petals in her irises stammered in their dance, unable to recall how they managed their ease in the first place. Her waltz whose intimate sway once led Aisling's gaze now fumbled through a mess of burnt roses, tripping and stumbling through the simplest motions. For one so assured in herself, so confident in her charms and glamor, to falter in such an open display, Aisling couldn't help staring as Eris hid her bashful colors behind her hands.

"Is that so… I'm glad, then…" she said, although her cuffs ate her mutterings, drowning the rest in their fluff.

Aisling's fascination welled in dollops, unable to turn away from the marvel in this new expression. So unapologetically bashful and clumsy, a stark contrast to her grace and calculated maneuvers. To think a pokémon of her caliber, the one behind the trigger of so many sloppy feelings and uncontainable emotions, had a messy side of her own. One controlled by the frenzy in her chest and the race of blood deafening the rational thoughts in her head.

This part of her, this part of Coco only evident in the identity of Eris, was beautiful in its own right. Adorable. Tangible. Real and mortal. A single taste and Aisling found her heart greedy for more.

Now her addiction was complete…

"Lady Eris?" Aisling leaned in closer, her curiosity overtaking her hesitance in listening to the sputterings spilling between the clouds.

Eris's eyes peeked between her fingers, the chaotic swirls in her eyes too cute for her maid to divert her gaze. Her peering retreated back into her cuffs, her upper body curling and tightening from her head to her chest, hands pressing the balls of their wrist into her eyes and ears trembling with the strain to sink into herself. Any tighter and Aisling was sure she'd implode on herself, but one more squeeze and she was back, full and revitalized with a couple of cushioned slaps to her own face.

Aisling jumped at the sudden motion, a declaration racing through her body as she took the glass of the sour-sweet beverage. She downed it quickly, submerging herself knee-deep into the puckering sensation of the cocktail's flavor. It sent a shiver down her whole body, rattling her shoulders and adding a tremble to her tail. Her resolution glistened in a new rosy flame, determination furrowing her brow and curling her lips as she handed the glass over.

"Could I get another?" she asked despite the punch still lingering on her face.

"Um… are you sure? If you prefer something sweeter, I could—"

"No, this is perfect. It's the favorite drink of someone who believes in me. I'm sure this is just the stimulation I need to write something amazing. So please, let me keep drinking it."

Aisling laughed, the breath feeling easy in spite of the fluttering in her chest. "You don't really need my permission for something like that, but alright. As you wish, Lady Eris. I will return shortly with your drink," she said, taking the glass and setting it on her tray.

Her steps glided along the walkway between the tables, stepping between the little world of indulgences set inside of their small piece of fantasy and theatrics. She looked back at the contained pocket from which she came from, neglecting for a moment the idea that her body might be disturbing the traffic and functionality of the clearing. Forgetting for a moment that her feet were meant to move forward and her eyes were meant to keep on her destination. Forgetting for a moment that the object of her stares was her beloved idol shared by dozens of fans and that she was merely one in a sea of many admiring gazes. For in the moment, in that glimpse gliding over her shoulder, there was a lopunny, stealing bites of cake while she dived into the page. An artist delving deep into the flustered emotions racing across her cheeks, chasing inspirations set in her heart by a single encounter.

Their encounter.

The expressions she made, the twists of contemplation and the flashes of enlightenment as she chased changing ideas, culminated in flicks of the pen soaring across her canvas. How she looked when she tried her best, how her eyes beamed when she gave her all, there was no doubt in Aisling's heart that her words were true.

She would always be her favorite, both as the polished Coco and the raw Eris.