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"I can't believe it…"
"I am Emmet. Quit your bitching."
The Gear Station break room is hardly the place to dress up as a clown, yet here they are glaring each other down with Volo almost fully dressed in clown gear and Emmet in his usual Subway Boss Uniform.
"A bet's a bet. You said so yourself," Emmet carried on and held out a rainbow afro. "Clown up. It's for charity too."
"Why did I even agree to this…"
With a brief glance around the empty break room, Emmet's smile widened.
"Because you l-i-k-e me~" he sang. The blonde tried not to laugh, grateful that the white paint over his face hid his little blush.
"…Of course. But if anyone recognises me in this disguise, I'll put a pebble on the tracks."
"Mommy, mommy, look! A clown!"
Volo stood beside the entrance to Gear Station in a colourful white-and-red boiler suit, carrying a bucket with Gear Station's logo on. He couldn't really do anything as there's a toy shackle chaining him to a (fake) weight inaccurately labelled as "10 tonnes." Of course as it's before the rush hour, every person walking past glanced at him at least once with mixed responses: laughter, selfies, slurs and horror from coulrophobics.
The shout from before came from a preschooler who excitedly ran up to Volo.
"I love your makeup, mister!" she cried out, pointing at his face. "You look like mommy!"
The man - her father - overheard that as he approached and couldn't help his snort.
"Yes, dear, he does," he cackled and leant down to pick her up to carry in his arm when he saw the bucket. "Oh, which charity is it for this year?"
"'Right Tracks!'" Volo internally cringed at the name. "It's a city-based charity that sponsors short training courses for teenager delinquents to help them get into employment!" 'Or unpaid slave labour… ow, history never changes,' his mind finished cynically.
He watched as the father took out a penny from his pocket, giving to his daughter.
"Okay, sweetie, pop the coin in the bucket for Mr Clown!" he encouraged.
As soon as the little hand dropped the dirty penny in the bucket with a satisfying clinking noise, Volo squeezed the big red nose he wore and it squeaked loudly, making the little girl squeal with laughter, kicking her legs.
"Bet your mother can't do that!" he joked and the father grabbed a tissue to wipe her eyes. "Thank you for your donation, little girl!"
The day passed and at one point the bucket was getting so heavy with coins, expired candy and i.o.u notes from assholes who think they're funny that Volo called for one of the depot staff to switch charity buckets.
"You're doing a great job, sir!" the depot agent gushed, "not much physical money is coming in, but the online donation page crashed twice thanks to your acting! Have you always been such a good actor?"
Volo smirked, glad the loud red lips painted around his real ones hid his malicious intent. "Oh, always."
After the late afternoon travel rush ended, Emmet came along to finally free Volo from the fake chain and took the bucket before they went inside to greet the day shift staff switching with the night shift workers. Soon, they were alone in the locker room and…
"GAH, ITCHY!" Volo yelled and yanked off the rainbow afro before throwing it to the ground, stamping on it with spite. "I HATE THIS WIG!"
"Your service to Gear Station has been immeasurable today!" Emmet chirped, taking his hat off. "The first count revealed that you have raised $477.78! Meanwhile, the online fundraiser has it $3892.41!"
"It better have been fucking worth it…" Volo hissed, still glaring at the abused wig beneath his foot.
"I am Emmet. It absolutely did make a difference. Selfies that passengers took of you have gone viral."
"Oh, gods…"
"I doubt anyone will recognise you." Emmet said and pulled out a spare tissue from his pocket, reaching over to hold Volo's cheek and began rubbing at the stubborn face paint. "Let's clean this up before it dries your skin out."
"Can't get any drier than a desert with how much you applied."
"Hey, I used moisturising cream before the paint, it couldn't be as bad as if I didn't."
"Of course… if you're such an expert, why didn't you dress up as the clown?"
Emmet only cleaned his right cheek so far, but leant in to softly kiss the reddening skin.
"Power play," he said simply and the blonde playfully shoved him away.
"Shut up and finish cleaning my face, then I'll show you what power play is."