Sorry it took a little bit, but I'm just glad I got the chapter finished. So nothing more to say here. Moving on.

Chapter Seven: Getting to Know Her

Shaking his head and scowling, Ralph pushed the door shut. "What are you doing in my house?"

Scrumples tilted her head with a blink, putting down the cup. "I came to visit. Well, actually I arrived at the station first, and because I remembered the name of your game, I asked your security where it was. He was nice enough to tell me, so I came here by myself." He noted she sounded proud when she explained it. "One of the nice people here brought me to your house when I arrived and told him I wanted to see you."

As much as he appreciated the explanation, it wasn't what he wanted answered. He pinched his brows and let out a sigh. "Let me rephrase that. What are you doing inside my house without my permission?"

"The door was unlocked. He said I could wait in here."

It was such a simple response and so innocent, Ralph's face landed in his hands, then smoothed back his hair with a huff. "I bet it was Gene..."

"He was nice."

Ignoring her comment, he stepped to her side. "I did not invite you here. You are trespassing."

The crown flickered over her head as her eyes blanked. She scrambled to her feet, which he then noticed her shoes were off. "I-I'm sorry! I mean... I knew you weren't home, but he said it was okay, and I apologized to the house for coming in without your permission!" She gave a couple of sharp bows during her response, which combined with her hurried speech only reminded him of the previous night.

He quickly dismissed the twisted feeling in his gut when the slight distraction almost made him miss what she said. "I don't care, you shouldn't have listened to Gene and just waited outside." He grunted a little, growing a little uncomfortable with her stance. "Knock it off, Scrumps, and tell me how long were you in here for."

Scrumples straightened up with a nervous look on her face. "Um... I don't know."

"Then give me an estimate."

Her eyes rolled about the room in a quick scan. "Five minutes."

Ralph guessed it was longer when glanced down at the cup she was using to find a green liquid inside, steam still rising from it. "What's that?"

She looked. "Oh, I made some tea while I was waiting."

"You were exploring the house while I was gone!"

She whimpered at the sudden harsh tone. "N... No, the kitchen was right there."

"Then you used the kitchen without my permission!"

Her face then started to turn a little green as she covered her lower face. "F-Forgive me for saying this, I didn't want to bring it up, but..." her eyes scrunched shut and her voice constricted, "...your breath smells bad."

Ralph rolled his eyes with a scoff. "Okay, fine, thanks for telling me something I've known for a while."

"Y-You've always had bad breath?!" she squealed through her fingers, irises shrinking from the shock.

He contemplated exhaling over her to prove his point, then went against it. "Yeah, so what about it? If you want to run outside, go ahead."

Shaking her head, she instead disappeared into the kitchen.

"Don't you start adding that in your little notebook!" he shouted after her, turning the corner to find her standing by his stove, but was then distracted by how different the kitchen looked. He could not last remember it being so... open. The countertops and sink were cleared and shined, the cupboards polished, even the lamp hanging over the table was dusted. All the utensils he remembered being scattered about were gone (presumably into their drawers) or hanging up on the walls or over the stove.

"Well... if I haven't had it written down by now, I guess I decided to ignore it." Ralph did a double-take when she spoke. A small frown had transitioned on her smooth features, and she pointed toward the exit. "But don't come back in here until you clean your mouth."

Brows raising questionably, he stood his ground and folded his arms to look tougher. "You have no authority over me," he stated proudly. "I'm in the walls of my home, I can do whatever I want."

"I mean it, Ralph!" she hardened her tone. "The kitchen is not meant for stinky breaths!"

He snorted. "You've only seen Vanellope once, and already she rubbed off on you." He thought back to what he said and slumped. "Oh, Tobikomi, she rubbed off on you..."

Scrumples then grabbed the kettle from the stove and held it out before her. "You don't get out right now, I'm pouring this in your mouth!"

Ralph couldn't help laughing. "Like that will do anything."

She placed it back on the stove and turned the switch to the highest setting. A few moments later, they could hear the heat rushing through the water inside. The man, still letting out chuckles, looked over at the woman and shut his mouth at how serious she was. Nervously glancing between her and the kettle, he backed off, quickly heading into the restroom. It was once he shut the door did something click in his head everything was off in this scenario.

"Wait, what am I doing?" he inquired himself, brows knitting. "Was I just seriously chased out of my kitchen? Within the walls of my home that I built?" He could just feel the steam expel from his ears at the embarrassing thought. While they were not butting heads, the man had the feeling they would have had he been more stubborn and stayed.

Then he wondered on why it was he was not more stubborn. What was it about Scrumples that separated her from the others and kept him from doing what he normally would have done around them? If it was Vanellope in her stead, she actually would not ever tell him what she would do. She might pick up a kettle of boiling water, sure, but she would not actually use the water as a weapon. He knew her well enough to know she would have poured the water on something in the kitchen (or take it into the next room to do just that) to make him stop her and use something entirely different that would bring comedic harm to his person. And then she would chase him out of the kitchen when he was distracted.

All Scrumples did was tell him off and say what she would do because he had bad breath. Not even Felix would get straight to the point without a couple of different euphemisms. So what exactly brought him to do as she said? Was it due to how serious she looked and sounded, which he had never seen before?

With a scowl and shake of the head, he grasped the doorknob—then paused. It was a little thought, a stupid one at that, yet it made him second guess himself. "Wait... what if Scrumples is outside, listening to make sure I'm doing what she asked?" Imagining the woman standing guard had Ralph inwardly laugh it off. "Yeah, right. Like she would do that. Now if it were Vanellope, she would totally do that."

He made the mistake of letting it sink in further.

"...wait... what if she heard that?"

Cautiously removing his hand from the knob, he side-stepped to the sink and opened the medicine cabinet for his oft-neglected toothbrush, glancing between the door and the mirror in suspicion. Squeezing more than enough toothpaste on the bristles, he turned the faucet on all the way and took as much time as he felt was needed for better convincing, even making sure to gargle as loud as possible without choking. For a few extra minutes, Ralph used the mouth wash, though he didn't think it through and poured in as much as sixty milliliters of the liquid before he choked and coughed out a waterfall of it. He remained in the bathroom for a few minutes longer to wash out the taste, and until he was certain Scrumples was no longer going to hound him before strutting out.

Entering the front room, he stopped in place to stare at how she sat on her knees at the stump, casually sipping the steaming tea, though she was visibly struggling to keep the cup steady due to its large size. She looked as though the event in the kitchen never happened, like he walked into his home and just went to the restroom without issue. (Then he amended in his head he would've found it creepy if he walked into an empty front room first and later came back to find her there.) It was an odd picture.

With a small huff to clear his head of it, Ralph stepped a little more into the room. "All right, I did as you asked. Now will you please leave?"

She looked up at him, blinking twice in a row. "Can I finish my tea first?"

He glared at the kettle that had been placed in the center. "You weren't here for five minutes if you made tea." Then he pointed at it. "And where did you find that?"

Scrumples followed the finger to the kettle and stared at the thinning steam for a few moments. "Um... by the sink. It was hidden behind a pile of dirty dishes, which I washed for you by the way, if you hadn't noticed."

"I don't care, you touched my stuff and helped yourself to making tea... which I don't recall ever having on-hand."

"You don't have a lot of kitchen material, so I don't know how you couldn't remember where your kettle was."

He clutched his head briefly in frustration. "Whatever, all that matters is you came in without being invited, and you helped yourself!"

"You're pretty disorganized about your things, actually..."

"Stop thinking about my kitchen, we're not talking about the kitchen!"

The woman stared for a bit before reaching across the stump and picking up an empty cup he missed seeing. "Would you like some tea, Ralph?" she politely asked, a small smile spreading on her lips.

"I don't drink tea," he muttered gruffly.

"'It's better to have tried than not tried at all,' as someone once said." She lowered her arms slightly as she threw her head back to think on it. "I don't remember who said it."

Ralph looked at the empty cup to avoid her face, knowing who she was talking about, but wondering if she remembered anything else about yesterday. Something inside him said she didn't, leaving behind a small, hollow emptiness. Taking a couple of breaths to help clear his mind, he made his way over, sitting across from her. He watched as she poured the tea into the large cup, noticing she held it by the handle, and with a pad held the lid in place. It didn't look anything out of the ordinary, but he was finding himself curious about how formal she seemed when doing so.

"I thought you drink milk," he somehow found himself asking.

She briefly glanced up. "I do, but I also drink tea, though it's not often. Only when I need to relax after a day's work." Placing the kettle back down, she carefully picked up the cup and held it out to him.

He gingerly took it from her, frowning down at how he noticed it was green. Looking up at her, he was slightly phased at her smile. "It's green tea," she answered, like she read his mind. "I brought it along."

He raised a brow suspiciously. "Why were you carrying around tea?"

"I wanted to visit, of course." Scrumples giggled a little. "If it was any more formal, I would've brought my cups, but I figured you would have cups of your own, and you did. They're pretty big, though." She stared in slight wonder at the one before her, rhythmically massaging the sides.

Rolling his eyes, Ralph returned to the tea, which he noticed had a slight bitter smell to it amongst the otherwise-soothing aroma. Cautiously, he took a sip, flinching a little from the hot temperature and quickly swallowing it down to keep from further burning his mouth. Glancing over at the woman, whom was watching him closely, he sipped again for a second taste, noticing it left a little residue. "Hmm..." he carefully thought over what he wanted to say, "...it's not bad."

Her eyes sparkled with a broad smile, bringing her clenched hands up to her chin. "Really?!" she gasped.

He leaned back slightly in surprised at her excitement. "Well... it's got a thick taste to it..."

"Sweet or bitter?"

He rocked his hand a little back-and-forth. "Somewhere in between. I dunno, kinda tastes like dirt."

She blinked before her face fell, eyes dropping to the stump's surface. "I see..."

Ralph started to regret what he said. "Err... trust me, it's not that bad a drink! I've had worse!" He grinned with a small laugh to emphasize his point.

She didn't seem to catch on, descending more into her gloom. "No, it's not your fault. Just different tastes is all..."

Ralph felt a bit guilty, and drank a little more. If he could choose his words more wisely, his comment wouldn't have been as harsh as it was. He was willing to take it back, as it was starting to taste a little better.

"Figures that I can't make tea," Scrumples continued to murmur to herself. "I can't even cook to begin with."

The man spat out the tea across the room, almost knocking the cup over when he roughly set it down. His guest leaned in with worry, untying the big ribbon of her apron to reach it over to possibly clean him off, though he unintentionally pushed her away. "Say that again!" he gasped out.

She sat back down with a puzzled look on her face. "Um... I can't cook."

They stared at each other in silence for a long time, Ralph unable to bring himself to look away. The shock seemed to freeze his insides, receiving the odd feeling he had been lied to, that this was a different Scrumples—which he knew was impossible. He wanted to laugh off the irony, and possibly the now-awkward moment, but even he couldn't force himself to. The longer they stared, the more he came to the conclusion she, as confused as she looked, was serious.

Leaning back to take a breath and rub sense back into his face, Ralph started to mutter to himself. "This can't be happening... what are the odds...? Weren't you programmed to be a cook?" he asked loud enough for her.

She blinked. "I think so."

He covered his face again after a few seconds. "Oh, Tobikomi... um... how do you cook in-game?"

Scrumples seemed to stare into space for a moment. "The player controls my movements as they follow the ingredients list at the corner."

"Is everything made in real-time?"

"Not really."

Ralph was starting to get his answer, and decided to voice it. "So... you're probably screwed up over how cooking works because your game doesn't do it correctly."

She nodded a little hesitantly. "...yes, sounds about right."

"Do you eat often?"

She scratched at her cheek nervously, a small drop of sweat appearing on her brow. "Yes, I do."

"How?" The man held himself down when he noticed he was getting too into his questioning, and had been leaning closer.

Her cat-like smile looked a little crooked when she replied, "I cook, of course. Well, it's more like I'm practicing cooking, now that I think about it."

Ralph's current mental image of her started to break apart, but his curiosity was getting the better of him. "And... how does it taste?"

Scrumples flushed a little, dropping her gaze for a brief moment. "Um... not that great."

"Nonsense, that's just critic in you talking!" he suddenly blurting out with a laugh. "I bet it's fine, like this tea!"

Her face fell slightly. "Making tea and cooking food is different."

"At least you don't burn water!"

When she remained silent, the Scrumples he knew shattered in his mind, leaving him with pieces to put back together while knowing it wouldn't be the same again. His nervous chuckles quieted down, and he slumped in place. "You do... don't you?"

Her shoulders half-heartedly shrugged. "Sometimes. Rarely happens when I'm making tea, though..." She put her finger to her lips in thought. "It's weird. It's like... when I make tea, I'm all calm and smooth about it. But then when I'm trying to make something simple like heating up soup from a can, it burns."

"Well, to be honest with you, I burn food sometimes, too," he piped up to help her feel a little better.

"I can't even make a simple rice ball correctly. I mean... I have a rice cooker, and I follow the instructions to a "T", yet I still tend to undercook or overcook like over half of that rice."

"But at least the rice that's not overcooked or undercooked still is edible."

Scrumples looked up at him with the forlorn gaze she had been steadily developing the more she talked. "That's because it always burns."

It was obvious she wasn't going to stop talking negatively about herself. Somehow, Ralph didn't want to believe her, wanting to see it for himself. Without another word, he stood up for the door, and walked outside toward the apple trees. He yanked one off the branch, made a move back for his house, then decided to get a second one and turned his back on the tree (though he glanced back when he stepped onto the porch to find it had respawned, but waved it off). Entering the front room, he passed by a confused Scrumples for the kitchen, opened a few drawers to find a knife, and returned to hand the utensil and an apple to her.

"What's this?" she asked.

"I want you to peel the skin off," he instructed, sitting back in his spot. "Pretend you're making apple pie. So peel the apple like how you normally do."

She stared between him and the fruit for a few moments. "Why—"

"Don't ask, just do as I say."

"It's not even washed."

He rolled his eyes, then stopped himself. "We're playing pretend here. You're not actually making a pie."

Bowing her head, the woman turned the apple around in her hand before carefully sticking the blade in at the top, and sliced a chunk off. She glanced up in half-approval, half-confusion. "Um..."

He waved his hand around. "Don't stop, just keep going."

Taking a small breath, Scrumples painstakingly resumed hacking away at the apple's skin. Her brows furrowed at the uneven grooves and little pieces she was leaving behind, her fingers trembling more in anxiety each time. She let out a gasp when she was nicked by the knife the first time, almost dropping the apple, but continued when there wasn't a response from Ralph. She lifted the injured finger away and kept it hovering until she jabbed herself again, and decided to keep a tight hold the apple until she was finished.

By then, there was a pile of irregular slices on the stump, and a few pieces on her lap. The skinned fruit lay flat in the middle of her palm, which she stared at with teary eyes. Looking up at Ralph, whom had barely moved where he sat, she hesitantly held it out to him, ignoring her throbbing, dripping fingers. "H... Here," she murmured after she swallowed. "I'm finished."

He didn't reach for it, and instead pointed to the stump, which she obeyed and set it down where he gestured to. She brought the skin together into a clump and slid it into her lap to hold in the apron. "Um... I'll throw these away." Slowly, she stood up and shuffled for the kitchen, keeping her eyes down at the pile as she readjusted her apron as seen fit.

After she disappeared around the corner, the man looked back down at the peeled apple, scrutinizing its now-irregular, mushed shape. His mind berated him for asking her to do a small task that he knew deep down wasn't going to prove anything. "Scrumps is no Mary, after all," he muttered to himself. Though he wasn't sure if Mary was perfect in peeling apples, just that she made great apple pies.

There was a sound of water turning on, and Ralph let out a sigh. Getting to his feet, he went to stand at the kitchen's entrance, watching as she thoroughly scrubbed her hands, eyes drooped in sadness. His expression softened at the scene, his vision catching on the faint, rising steam. Then she paused, and let the water wash over her hands, leaning against the counter as she relaxed her posture. Not liking where it was leading up to, he walked over to turn off the faucet. She blinked twice and turned her head to look up at him.

Ignoring a slight, hollow drop in his chest, he straightened in place. "Take me to your house."

Her eyes slowly widened. "Eh?"

"I want you to forget about that apple presentation back there, I don't know what I was thinking. I'd like to see you working in your own environment." He rose a brow slyly. "And as you invited yourself over without my permission, I'm inviting myself to your place so we'll be even."

Scrumples stared for a long moment before she absorbed what he said. She glanced away, cheeks tinting with a light pink. "Um... okay..." Drying her hands on her apron, she hurried into the front room to retrieve the kettle and cups. "Let me wash these out very quick," she said, gently placing them in the sink as she reached for the faucet.

Ralph laid his hand on it to stop her. "Don't worry about it, you did enough in this kitchen."

She held her hands to her chest, backing away. "Okay..." Taking a small breath, the woman seemed to flit over to the entranceway, closely watched the man as he lumbered over, then hopped for the door.

He found her sudden behavior odd, but waved it off as her normal self. "Do you need anything very quick before we leave?"

She shook her head as she slipped her shoes on. Then before she straightened up, she faced a random direction of the front room, and bowed. "Thank you for letting me stay. Sorry for the intrusion earlier." Turning to Ralph, she repeated her action. "Thank you for not kicking me out for my intrusion."

Though not sure what it was all about, his cheeks glowed in embarrassment, and he just raised a hand. "It's okay," was all he could say.

Scrumples' posture returned to normal as she shot him a smile with eyes arched.

Game Play Station, Ralph dutifully noted, was what he expected in similarities, yet at the same time it was different. It was quieter than Game Central, slightly more inactive, he could see all the way to the end of the station, and more peaceful with the low buzz of talk. He recognized a few characters here and there, but that was it. It wasn't like he entered an entirely new world, he felt lost and out-of-place.

Scrumples didn't seem to notice his discomfort where they stood overlooking the station. "My game's ri-i-ight over there." She pointed over her head to the left wall. "It's the second-to-last port. See? Right across from Bubble Bobble. Bub and Bob are nice neighbors."

He didn't respond immediately until he glanced down to find her gazing up at him. "Uh... yeah. That's cool."

She giggled, spinning on a heel and looking down at her twirling dress. "Everyone here is nice. They all I guess know each other pretty well, but I'm still learning names. I'll let you take a tour later, how's that?"

"No need to do that."

With a shrug, she hopped down the steps, and skipped in place. "Come on, Ralph! I want you to meet Cheese!" She then started off, but not without loudly announcing to passers-by, "I'm bringing a friend home!"

Feeling his ears burn up, Ralph intentionally took his time following behind, not wanting to make awkward eye-contact with other characters and kept close to the wall. Scrumples occasionally slowed, but her movements were sporadic in her joy to where he would lose sight of her for a moment if he didn't pay close attention. The walk to her port didn't take very long, though he almost missed it because his "guide" had stopped to quickly chat with another character.

"Oh yeah, Ralph, this is our security, um... Surge Protector!" she introduced with a smile, even though the blue man standing right outside of her port's entrance was the same one from his station, albeit shorter and had a more alert look on his face.

He let out an awed whistle. "Impressive, Miss Scrumples. See, I knew you'd find someone to get along with!"

When she placed her hands on her cheeks, she made a small noise that reminded Ralph of a kitten. "I'm happy I did! True, he plays a bad guy in his game, but he's nice. I made him tea today, and he liked it."

Though slightly confused about her comment, the wrecker shuffled his weight from a bubbling guilt, knowing she was stretching the truth a bit. He couldn't bring himself to correct her.

"Rather quiet, ain't he?" the security guard pointed out with a sly grin.

"It's his first time in this station," Scrumples whispered to him, which made Ralph raise a concerned brow.

With a knowing nod, Game Play's Surge pulled the clipboard from under his arm. "Well, I need to do the general observations to make sure your game stays safe, Miss Scrumples," he said. "I don't believe he has malicious attempt to, but you know the rules."

Scrumples stared up at the ceiling for a brief moment. "Oh, yeah."

Pushing his glasses closer to his eyes, the guard motioned Ralph over. "Okay, sir, I'd like your name, game title—"

"Name's Wreck-It Ralph of Fix-It Felix, Jr., I'm coming from Game Central Station to go into—" he glanced up at the sign, "—Scrumples for a visit, I have no fruits nor any foreign objects on my person, I've been Mushroom-free for two months and two weeks even though that was not my fault to begin with, so other than that my record's been good, and you look like our Surge Protector." He took a breath. "And I don't hate you."

Surge Protector had been gawking up at him since Ralph opened his mouth, pen limp in his hand. Scrumples had a blank look to her face, her mouth slowly dropping open. The wrecker, after looking between them, just shrugged and leaned in. "Anything to declare?"

The guard rapidly shook his head. "I-I'm impressed... really. Err... you may proceed." He stepped aside, and flickered out (though not without a wave to the woman when she returned to normal).

"He's great, isn't he?" she said with a giggle. "Your guard isn't bad either, though his heart's not in it."

The man just shrugged, and gestured into the terminal. "Go ahead, Scrumps."

"I forgot to tell him my nickname!" she blurted out in surprise, the crown blinking above her.

"Forget it, want to go home or what?"

"Oh yeah." Giggling again, she strolled inside, Ralph trailing after with a slight shake to the head.

When the small trolley came into view, he couldn't help gaping at how the backrest of the carts were strawberry-shaped, and that the headlights were the same shape. Reaching it, he stared at the seats, wondering how he was going to fit without breaking it. Scrumples seemed to notice when she hopped into the front and turned around. "Think you can fit?"

Scratching the back of his head, the man let out a breath. Cautiously, he stepped in and eased himself down, wincing at the tight space squeezing his sides. Glimpsing up at the wide-eyed woman, he muttered, "Let's just get this over with."

With a curt nod, Scrumples without warning yelled out "ALL-L-L ABO-O-OARD!" as she spun around, and the carts jerked taking off. Scowling, Ralph stuck a finger in his ear for a few moments to help clear the ringing, then watched as her head bobbed to-and-fro, and she mumbled to herself. Rolling his eyes, he stared at the seat before him to take in the painted detail and to avoid the passing lights.

It was quiet up until the trolley pulled into the dock minutes later.

"We're here already?" came Scrumples' surprised tone as she sat up. Spinning around in her seat, she smiled at the man. "You excited, Ralph?"

He decided to humor her as he attempted to wriggle himself out. "Not as excited as you—mmph—but yes, I can't wait."

Her eyes briefly darted downward. "You stuck?"

"No-no, I'm feeling myself slip out—mmm, stupid..."

Scrumples jumped out of her cart and tightly grabbed his wrist. "I got'cha, Ralph!" she squeaked, tugging as hard as she could.

While it wasn't much, he started to flail his free arm about when he felt the wheels begin to lift. "Scrumps, I got this! Let go... please!"

"Wriggle around or something!" she grunted, pulling again.

"The train's gonna flip!"

She stopped and stared down at the tracks. "Trains can flip?"

He yanked his arm free and forced himself to stand, popping out of the seat and stumbling onto his face on the wooden planks. He fumed when the woman started to laugh, picking himself up to dust his clothes off. "Knock it off," he growled in her face, which worked immediately. When her eyes started to tear up, he slapped his forehead and spun around, finding a well-placed cobbled path leading into the forest. "I take it we go down that way."

"Wow, you're very observant!" Scrumples gasped in admiration, jumping excitedly.

Deciding to ignore her, Ralph deeply inhaled and started off, slightly relaxing at the cool surface of the stones. He looked around at the healthy foliage, which led to him gazing up at the dark blue sky and wondering why he could still see everything clearly when there didn't seem to be a light source. He glanced over his shoulder to find his companion swerving in place with her trademark smile and arch-eyed expression, finding himself not having the heart to ask her questions.

They walked in silence until they reached a clearing where a white house stood. It was rather generic, he thought, even though it was small for a two-story. He noticed the one side of the building was nearly taken up by a single rectangular window revealing, on closer look, a kitchen. Craning his head to look beyond the treetops, he could see the cabinet's own window, and that her game was stationed close to the arcade's doors.

He jolted when Scrumples accidentally bumped into him with a squeak. "Sorry!" she quickly apologized while bowing. Lifting her head, her red face dulled to a pink when she looked at her house, and her smile broadened. "Oh, we're here!" Hopping in place, she skipped for the front door, and once she grabbed the doorknob, suddenly gasped in horror, eyes turning into blank discs. "Locked out?!" she shrieked.

Ralph was taken aback himself, and hurried on over when she collapsed to her knees. "U-Uh... don't you have a key?"

Much to his surprise, Scrumples wailed, tears pouring down her face like twin waterfalls. "I don't have a key!"

His heart flipped then sunk into his gut. Glancing around the yard and house's structure, he climbed over the porch's wall to test her window, finding with relief it wasn't locked. "Stay right there, I'm going to climb in and unlock it," he told her before starting to haul a leg over the sill.

Just when he did, she stopped sobbing, and her face lit up. "Oh yeah, I never lock the door."

Ralph slipped and fell out, barely missing kicking the window pane loose. She hopped to her feet momentarily and ran to him, bending over to peer in his face. He opened an eye to glare up at her. "You trying to make a fool out of me?" he growled through his teeth.

With a frown, she shook her head. "Why would I, Ralph?"

Her innocent tone did little to calm him down as he picked himself up and stormed to the front door. Grasping the door knob, he caught himself from slamming the door into the wall pushing it open, watching his shadow stretch across the wooden floor, the contours of his hair pointing toward the single flight of stairs positioned right by the entranceway to the living room. Across from the front room was another entrance that was the only other room lit up, suggesting it was the kitchen. Looking up at the ceiling, he huffed through his nostrils, having that unshakeable feeling he was going to hunch over throughout the house.

Scrumples lightly tapped his back to let him know she was behind him before she ducked under his arm and entered, pausing on the small area of floor that was just tile to take her shoes off and stick them into a cubbyhole. Padding further inside until she was in the middle of the pathway, she spun around and humbly bowed. "Welcome to my home, Ralph. Please enjoy your stay."

They stared at each other before she giggled and skipped to her left into the kitchen. With a brief roll of the eyes, Ralph carefully squeezed himself in, poking the door to close it behind him. Shuffling further in, he looked over into the living room he would've entered through, noticing what looked to be a straw mat surrounded by a various number of flowers in their vases and on the floor directly underneath the window. Then casting his eyes about, he found himself gaping at how different it looked from what he expected.

Instead of being covered in strawberry motifs or of its color scheme—though he figured pink still counted—the walls were occupied by pictures or murals of spindly trees covered in small, pink blossoms, or of the tiny petals scattering all around. Splashes of green fields occasionally caught his eye, but the entirety of his sight was full of the pale color, though he was a little grateful it wasn't as blinding as Sugar Rush's color scheme. For furniture, and coincidentally the only strawberry-motif in the room, there was a small sofa and chair by the far-end wall where a small fireplace lay. The room was otherwise devoid of other objects, though a colorful set of connected tunnels, tubes and containers was positioned close to the couch and even snaked itself around the chair.

His ears then caught the sound of scuffling from said-tunnels, and a shape zipped down one of the tubes. The man followed it closely, watching as a white rat slid down an exit conveniently facing his direction. The little rodent appeared to gallop for him, and with a series of squeaks, reached his foot and chomped on his big toe.

While Ralph was sure he would feel the bite and had braced himself for it, he still let out a yowl and flailed about to try and shake the rat off. "Go away, get!" he yelled at it, backing away into the wall. It was then the rodent scurried up under the overalls pant-leg, and he started smacking at the tiny lump in retaliation, and flinched each time it bit him.

"Ralph, what's going on?" Scrumples called out, sliding into the corridor with an anxious look on her face.

"Some mangy rat attacked me!" he roared, growing more desperate to hit the creature, not liking where it was heading.

The woman then paled and her irises shrank as she gasped. "Where's Cheese?!" she squeaked from constrained breath.

"You're in the kitchen, should be in there—NO-NO-NO, NOT THERE!"

Scrumples looked on his person, covering her lower face in horror. "WHAT'RE YOU DOING TO CHEESE?!"

Ralph recoiled in shock from her shrill voice, raising his hands up before him, though he still squirmed from the rodent's teeth and clawed feet. Then he watched as she grabbed a broom leaning against the wall and raised it above her head. "DROP HIM, RALPH!"

With a sudden change of direction, the rat crawled up his chest and popped its head out from his shirt, large round ears perking up as it looked at the woman. It squeaked, jumped off his person, and bounded for her, climbing up her leg and disappearing behind her only to show up seconds later on her shoulder. Scrumples not once moved as her eyes continued to glare Ralph down. And it was then he had that feeling her hair turned into fire from how it splayed outward and glowed from the light in the kitchen.

For some reason, he got it in his head she was capable of swinging the broom at him.

Slowly, he brought himself to give her a nervous smile as he took a step back. The rat chittered at him, which he quickly ignored as he addressed Scrumples. "I'm... sorry about the fuss there. Um... I take it I'm not welcomed here?"

She only continued to leer up at him, remaining motionless.

Eying the broom, Ralph took another step for the door. "Yeah... well, thanks for showing me your house, but I just remembered that the stove wasn't turned off, so I gotta get back and—"

THWACK!

He flinched from the blow, but as it didn't harm him, he made no other sound, nor opened his mouth to tell her off. They continued to stare at each other until her face softened when smiled and clutched the broom closer. "Silly, I wouldn't leave a stove turned on if I'm not in the kitchen," she chastised in a teasing tone, shaking a finger at him. "You're a bad liar, Ralph."

Ralph scowled, resisting rolling his eyes. "Okay, so I can't add 'lying' to my list of villainy. Whatever."

Scrumples giggled, then noticed the rodent on her shoulder. "Oh! This is Cheese, by the way! You two met, but not properly." Smiling at her furry companion, she told Cheese, "Want to introduce yourself again?" To the man's slight surprise (though he saw it coming either way), the rat turned up its nose with a quiet squeak. "Oh, that's too bad. He's not used to strangers," she whispered to Ralph.

"I noticed," he flatly said.

With a quick sigh, she gave him a small wave. "Come into the kitchen. I think you'll like it." Then spinning on a heel, she strolled into the room, though not before Cheese shot him a warning glance.

Giving the rat a sneer of his own, Ralph followed, and found he could straighten to his full height. Cricking his neck, he took some interest in the size and number of the shelves that greeted him, believing he could possibly just barely touch the rim of the middle shelf. Looking about the oddly-large kitchen, he found nothing out of the ordinary outside of the aforementioned shelves and large window gazing out at the cabinet. It looked normal otherwise, except he could see holes in the wall that he guessed the rat could travel through.

"Cool, isn't it?" Scrumples asked, a hint of constrained joy in her voice. "I can walk amongst the shelves to get what I want! I'm small enough that it won't break under my feet."

He just nodded, turning his attention to the clear countertop and sink, unable to find a speck of dust or water spot. "Do you... clean here often?"

She gave him her trademark smile as she raised two fingers, small lines dancing around her like rays of a sun rising behind her. "A kitchen has to be clean, because that's where food is always prepared."

Ralph mentally slapped himself for asking an obvious question. Returning his gaze to the countertop, his eyes trailed far enough along he noticed a painting on the wall in shadow. Stepping closer, he could see it was of a hilly field in the foreground leading into a grove of trees before emptying out to a crystal-clear lake reflecting the sunset-lit sky and clouds. Blurred out in the background was what looked to be more field, and some mountains on the horizon. He noticed the attention to detail in every blade of grass, leaf on the tree, and grooves of the clouds. Whoever had painted it had to have spent countless hours making it look realistic as possible, but with an air of perfection. The only complaint he had was the frame was too plain for such a beautiful painting, but it was kept clean enough to give off a small shine. However, what he believed to be the title was printed on a gold plate beneath the painting.

"'Mag Mell'?" he muttered, tilting his head.

"You like it?" the woman asked quietly from behind. She squeezed in next to him, resting her elbows on the counter, chin in her hands. Cheese was now absent from her shoulder, bringing him to glance over for a quick scan of the kitchen, and hearing a tiny squeak sound from somewhere by the shelves. She deeply sighed when he turned back to her, finding her eyes glazed over in a dream-like daze. "I've had it for as long as I can remember. I don't know who painted it, there's no given name."

A thought popped into his head at what she said. "You're saying this may have been programmed into the game?"

She shrugged. "I dunno. I like to look at it when I wake up, and before I go to bed."

He stared at it for a few moments longer, trying to take it all in. "What's this 'Mag Mell', anyway?"

Scrumples pointed to the painting. "That, silly."

Ralph let out a small sigh. "I know that, but is it an actual place, or just a painting?"

She shrugged again. "I like to believe it exists somewhere."

Pulling himself away from the painting, he looked out the window, feeling he was looking at a different world despite not having left the arcade. The door was right across from where his cabinet was placed, but he had never seen it up-close before. He felt a little disappointed that the world beyond his turned out to be dark and bland, though he could see white flakes dropping from the sky.

His eyes then lit up when he recognized it as the same white snow he would see in Sugar Rush. "Oh, looks like the arcade gets snow after all."

"It's snowing?!" Scrumples cried out, tearing herself from her dreamy state to look outside. She swerved her torso around so she still leaned on the countertop. "I love snow, it's so pretty to look at!"

He raised a skeptical brow, looking down from the corner of his eye. "Is this something that was programmed as well?"

She chewed her lip thoughtfully. "I don't think so. I mean, I was just plugged in at the start of the month, so obviously I got to see snow the moment I woke up..." Her voice trailed off briefly when she sighed. "But somehow, it's like I've known snow my whole entire existence. I sometimes get memory flashes of snow and of children and people walking by covered with it. And I also remember really bright, colorful lights at night."

Ralph didn't know what else to say, so he kept his mouth shut and let the moment sink in. The longer he watched the snow fall from beyond the screen, the more he imagined the small scenario she described. It sounded familiar to how the arcade was like for about a month every year, which he was estimating to happen in a few more weeks. From what he remembered, the arcade owner was rather passionate about the annual occasion, and the players seemed to like that rather calm, but festive atmosphere. Though he didn't really care much for some of the music he played.

"Am I crazy for thinking that, Ralph?"

Her inquiry pierced through his memory and jolted him back to the kitchen. Flustering, he turned to Scrumples, whose face was tilted toward his direction, but her eyes remained on the window. Clearing his throat, he responded, "No, of course not. That's probably your backstory, which sounds... simple." He shrugged at the end of his sentence.

She blinked up at him. "I don't have a backstory."

Ralph frowned, scanned the kitchen, then back to her. "That can't be right, every character has a backstory of some sorts. Well, they should, anyway."

Her expression not once changed. "I'm just a cook. I'm really sure that this is a memory."

"That has two different meanings... be more specific."

Her brows furrowed minutely before she understood what he meant and tapped her head. "Talking about this."

Turning his back on the window, the man scratched at his head. "Well, we all have memories. How else would we remember each others' names, be able to hold nostalgic conversations, important dates, and the like? Memories are what help remind us who we are. If we never had memories, we would never learn, or make different decisions every day. You know?"

When he faced Scrumples, his small smile fell at the sight of her blank expression, though he caught a gleam of emotion in her eyes. It came and went so fast, however, he could only go by his gut feeling of what it was he saw.

Sadness.

The woman suddenly let loose a big yawn—her mouth became so wide, it extended below her chin, her nose briefly disappeared, her eyes flattened and developed tears at the corners, and three wavy lines danced over her. Ralph froze at the odd sight, unsure how to react. When her mouth closed, she returned to normal, and peered up at him. "Sorry, Ralph," she mumbled, rubbing at her eyes. "I get sleepy when I space out too long."

Nodding, he remembered why he asked to visit her home and started looking around, from the shelves to the stove. "Um... sorry if I sound a little nosy, but where's your cookbook?"

"Eh?"

He mimed opening a book. "Your cookbook," he enunciated. "Where is it? Do you have one?"

She caught on, and briefly lifting a finger, she stepped out of the kitchen. He heard a small drawer open right around the corner, and she returned with a moderately-sized book. "Why do you want to see it?" she asked.

"I don't, but I'd like to see how you cook in your kitchen." It sounded awkward to tell her why he was there, but it helped get him back on track from when he came up with the idea earlier.

Scrumples had obviously not figured everything out until that moment. For one second, she had her default pleased expression on her face, then the next it turned dumbfounded, her eyes turning into simple dots and thus making her blush marks more prominent, her nose disappeared, and her mouth shrunk to a simple triangle. "Y... Y-You want me to cook?" she stammered, beginning to sweat a little.

Figuring he was going to regret it, Ralph gave a hesitant nod. "Yes, Scrumps. I know you said you're not a great cook, but I...don't exactly believe you. That's like me saying I can't break things."

She hugged the cookbook close to her chest with a whimper. "You want me to burn my house down in demonstration?"

"No, of course not."

"Ralph, I can't cook!"

"That's all talk," he said with a shrug. "I haven't had anything of yours outside of the tea, and I thought that was okay."

Her eyes shimmered with tears. "You're mean, Ralph."

He decided to wave it off when he spotted her chef's hat hanging on a hook. Walking past her to grab it, he stated, "Let's go with something simple. Why not bake some cookies? That doesn't take a lot of ingredients, I take it."

Scrumples flipped through the book until she found what she was looking for. "I count ten."

Ralph fought back the urge to face-palm. "Okay, the number of ingredients doesn't matter. It's how long it takes to make a batch."

She looked at it again, and her brows furrowed a little. "Well... it's not like I'm making an apple pie."

A smile transitioning on his face, he plopped the hat on her head. "That's the spirit, Scrumps!"

Sticking her bottom lip out, she reached up to fix it so her bangs peeked out fully. Ralph then realized the bangs were somewhat in the shape of a strawberry. "I don't know, Ralph..."

Meeting her gaze, he brought himself to chuckle. "What's the worst that can happen, really?"

Scrumples didn't say a word.

A buzzer sounded as Surge Protector flickered into view, pen and clipboard in hand. "Okay, sir, before I let you proceed to Fix-It Felix, Jr., I'm going to need your name, and the name of the location you just arrived from."

"I'm a secret agent, and I put the finishing touches on Polybius."

He gave the large man a look of warning. "You're only making this harder on yourself."

"I just want to go home and forget this all happened."

"Don't we all," the guard dryly said, tapping the metal clip. "Name."

"Wreck-It Ralph," came the disgruntled sigh.

"Where are you coming from, sir?"

The response was grumbled out.

"Where are you coming from?" he questioned more loudly.

With a huff, Ralph grunted, "Game Play Station, which is where Scrumples is docked. You probably never heard of it, but it's been all the rage recently."

Surge Protector "mmm-hmm"ed in reply. "Did you bring any fruit with you?"

"A bruised ego."

Cocking a skeptical brow, the guard just checked off "no". "Anything to declare?"

"Not while there are children present."

"Good choice." Peering over his glasses, he squinted past the death glare to scan the black face and smoke rising from his hair. "Are you aware your hair is on fire, sir?"

"Go jump in a bottomless pit," Ralph snapped, and passed on through without waiting for the Surge Protector's approval.