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Jake was having an okay day, y'know? As okay a day as you can have working at a fast food chain restaurant surrounded by rude customers and the constant smell of grease (he thinks he’s been turned off fast food forever working here). But then.
But then.
They walked in.
You get a lot of weirdos working somewhere like this, so at first Jake thought they were a couple of those cosplayers or something. Those people come in sometimes, and it’s summertime, which is around when they start filing in with their weird costumes made of foam.
And they do look like they're wearing Halloween costumes. The guy is in all black with this weird bird-skull-mask thing and the woman looks like she belongs in a particularly weird issue of PlayBoy with her plunging neckline and purple skin.
But then they get closer and Jake can see the veins on the woman's arms and oh god that doesn't look like a fake gun aren't there laws about this kind of thing and he thinks those are shotguns on the guy's belt.
“Can I get two Big Macs?” the woman says, rifle slung over her shoulder, French accent dripping from her voice.
“U-Uh,” Jake stutters intelligently.
“Would you like fries, mon cher?” she asks the man beside her, the words sweet but insincerity souring them. The man grunts, and Jake can't tell if it was an affirmative or a negative, but the woman seems to understand. “Two large fries as well. That will be all.”
“U-Um, o-okay, that’ll be, uh, 10.95,” Jake says, hoping the presence of guns doesn't mean they're planning on not paying.
To Jake's surprise, the woman pulls out a ten and a one and hands them to him delicately, smiling in a way that sends chills up his spine. He hands her her five cents and they leave the counter to wait for their food.
Jake watches them go sit down at one of the tables, feeling his muscles relax minutely, and then he tenses up all over again when he remembers he’ll have to serve them their food.