Sonic awoke with a start, nearly falling out of his tree. He'd forgotten to ask her name!
It had been about a week since Amy had arrived and she had already instituted a routine of dragging Sonic all around town and keeping the poor blue hedgehog out too late for him to naturally wake up early enough to escape her morning wake-up call. Sonic had to admit it was a smart plan, but his lack of sleep was wearing on his brain cells. He had to strap his flashlight to his glove cuff so he wouldn't forget to bring it with him to use on the way home. But lo! The sun was just barely rising o'er the treetops and Amy had yet to arrive! Perchance his luck was a-changin'?
Sonic glanced around, searching for a more inconspicuous tree to hide in. One with thicker foliage grew within jumping distance. Sonic was in the process of setting his sights on the tree when he was startled by the sound of footfalls on the path approaching his spot. He panicked. In his panic he leaped off of his tree and landed a couple feet short of the branches of the nearby tree, clinging to the trunk and trying to compute how to reach the oh-so-close safe haven of the needly branches. The footsteps were getting closer. Sonic's pupils shrank to near nonexistence; his grip was loosening. He stretched upward toward the nearest branch, about a mile away and counting to his sleep-deprived eyes. Amy Rose's voice rang out through the forest like an ice-related pun echoes through a snowy landscape to the ears of a groaning pessimist. She called Sonic's name, as she often did to alert Sonic of her presence.
The jig was up. No doubt she had seen him and was whipping out her hammer to ensure Sonic's literal downfall. Sonic would have given up, but his brain finally registered that he had, in fact, gotten a hold of the bough he had been straining for. He almost celebrated.
WHACK!
A pause. Sonic had heard the hit, but the tree he was in hadn't budged. Sonic pulled himself up into the branches of the new tree and looked down. Amy was not there. He heard her voice and another whack. Much to Sonic's joy, Amy had not seen him. She was still assaulting the tree he had been in previously. Sonic smiled, dozing off again and deciding to go to Eiglestein's diner for lunch and hopefully learn the name of that sweet-voiced girl. Maybe she knew Shadow.
Shadow smiled. She had just been promoted to supervisor and now kept track of the other employees, or rather, made the orders for others to take the orders of customers. Her first day was going well when the cook got an order he was having some trouble with. The old cook had retired last month, and although Robert was okay at the job, he was still the new guy, and, thankfully, quick at learning. Like a sponge, that boy. Shadow read the order.
"Ten chilidogs, extra onions…" The first thing she noticed was that the waitress had forgotten to put the order in restaurant shorthand, causing her a whole lot more work. The second thing was that this order was no doubt from Sonic- the waitresses would have come to her to help seat more than four people. She shook the thought of cooking for Sonic with a flick of her hair; that orange hedgehog's advice from her drunken adventure last week would not be lost on her! "Okay, Bob, eyes on me."
About an hour since his marvelous escape from Amy, Sonic was relaxing in the diner, safely hidden by the tinted window. He listened carefully to each waitress' voice, trying to hear what's-her-face's among them. No luck, yet. Once his order had been taken, Sonic happened to glance down at himself and caught himself wondering why Amy would want to hang out with him anyway- he hadn't showered since she had started commandeering his schedule! Little pieces of tree bark and sap and glitter from Amy's making him carry her decorative shopping bags were all over him! Embarrassed, Sonic sneaked off to the men's room.
As Sonic washed up, he realized how little wall insulation there was between the men's room and the kitchen. He could hear everything going on in there, but more importantly he heard: "There. That, Bob, is how you make chilidogs. But if I have to come in and make them for you again, you'll be hearing from the manager, got it?"
Sonic recognized her voice from last week- that voice-haver! But wasn't she a waitress? Why wasn't she out doing the whole waitress thing? She had been helping another employee… Perhaps she'd been promoted in the last week. That wasn't entirely unheard of, and it made sense, since she had been working at Eiglestein's for the past three months. Perhaps she was supervisor, now. Sonic resigned to the fact that he wouldn't be meeting her today and headed back to his table to see if his chilidogs had been delivered.
Shadow's curiosity was getting the better of her. Like Pandora, she was just dying to open the box that no doubt contained nothing but pain. Sonic was out there in the restaurant, eating the chilidogs she'd made. She felt as though all life on Earth depended on her not looking through that office door and watching Sonic's reaction. She tried to focus on the guidance of the strangely familiar orange hedgehog that she'd met only last week. She paused, her hand on the doorknob. Who was that orange hedgehog, anyway? She'd never seen him before in all her time in the city, and on top of that, she had been drunk! He could have been a figment of her imagination and she'd have never known the difference! She would ask one of her co-workers about it, she supposed, opening the door before realizing what she was doing. Her line of sight jolted upward, and she saw him, face down on the table next to the plate of chilidogs; one missing.
"Oh my God," whispered Shadow to herself, "I've killed him."
Sonic might as well have died and gone to Heaven. He wanted to marry whoever made these chilidogs; that's how good he thought they were. He had eaten the first one in a rush, not realizing how much he would be missing. He sat up from his facedown position on the table, which he had fallen to in his flavor-shock, and carefully took another chilidog, looking it over in bizarre fascination. Maybe slower was better when it came to this; he might never have a plate of chilidogs like this again.