[center][img]https://i.postimg.cc/MKK5m0sX/Kid-s-Hat-2.png[/img]

[b]Level:[/b] [color=8258fa]4 (10 -> 12/40)[/color]
[b]Location:[/b] [color=8258fa]Forest Temple[/color]
[b]Word Count:[/b] [color=8258fa]1220 (+2 EXP)[/color]

[i](In collaboration with [@Lugubrious])[/i]
[/center]


Hat Kid’s chosen path took her straight through a mostly empty hall into an apparent dead end at a barren hollow, where all that awaited her within was a trio of small, lethargic trolls and an inexplicably functional conveyor belt brick oven that didn’t look like it belonged there. In fact, the scene itself seemed out of place for being within an eerie haunted manor-esque temple; a surprise it wasn’t something creepier or more dangerous. The creatures appeared to be harmless enough when, upon noticing the child enter, one of them begged only that she make pizza for him, but logically, the request didn’t make sense at first. They had the means to ‘make’ whatever they wanted (as long as they wanted nothing else) [i]right there[/i] in the same room with them; what stopped them getting up and using the machine themselves? Were they really just that lazy; didn’t know how to operate it; couldn’t reach the buttons; some combination of all three? Furthermore, how--by his companion’s testimony--could he only want something specific without knowing specifically what he wanted? Again, this was something he probably could have figured out on his own if he actually tried. As unnecessarily frustrating as the idea was when thought about like that, the task she was given sounded simple enough to fulfill without fuss, as she was otherwise unlikely to get any answers or clues out of them regarding what to do next.

She walked up to the machine to inspect the options displayed on its side, easily arriving at her initial conclusion after but a moment of thought. She knew it to be a near universal fact (having traveled much of the old universe, which provided an oddly supportive consensus) that pineapple was a relatively unpopular choice of pizza topping. A ‘picky eater’ was statistically unlikely to relish the idea, and might similarly reject the inclusion of crisp greens, ruling out bell peppers. She was less sure of the latter, but still considered it a safe gamble to proceed as intended with a simple two-topping of mushroom and sausage. From the bottom up, she jumped to press every button short of peppers to produce the desired combination before moving around to the front of the hut to catch the pie as it shot out and run it over to the waiting troll.

The machine expelled a fully-made, fully-cooking, thoroughly-impossible pizza from the horn at the top with a burping noise, but a quick reposition from the kid allowed her to catch it before it hit the ground. Arno watched with hungry eyes as she approached and handed him the pizza, and he took it from her greedily. As he looked it over, however, and sniffed it, his face turned from eagerness into revulsion. “Eugh! Some of that stuff is yuck!” Shuffling over, he lifted the pizza above his head and cast it into a shallow pit.

Hat Kid’s default smile straightened out with an expression of taken aback confusion at Arno’s rude and wasteful rejection, voicing his disgust with [i]”some”[/i] of what he was given. He wasn’t exactly forthcoming with what about the presented dish he didn’t like, but her guess was the mushrooms; he probably didn’t like the texture. With this in mind, she returned to the oven to repeat the process with one less step, this time omitting the mushrooms and returning with a revised product. 

Upon its reception, Arno let out a thoughtful, “Hmm…” Clearly, nothing about this pizza turned him off, but something in the twist of his mouth and the dark of his eyes told Hat Kid he wasn’t quite satisfied. After a couple seconds of consideration, he finally said, “More toppings.” With that, he waddled over to the rock he’d been resting on and set the new pizza upon it, perhaps saving it -an admissible but inferior offering- for later.

The half acceptance of the newer product proved the child’s intuition correct, and brought her a step closer to figuring out what the troll wanted (and helping him to figure out the same). Moreover, it gave her the impression that this was definitely more of a test than a favor, but for what purpose, she could only speculate. So long as she could pass and press on with desirable expediency, it made no difference to her. She made another lap to the machine and pressed the bottom two buttons again before taking a second to consider what to add to it next. She had narrowed it down at this point to pineapple and/or bell pepper, sparing a thought for the former. Was sweet and spicy his flavor? Was he perhaps among the minority who liked a fruity ‘za? At this point, it couldn’t hurt to try, so she jumped on the machine, ran up its side to reach the top button, and slapped it to confirm her selection. Once produced, she caught the ejected dish mid-jog and promptly raced it over to its finicky recipient.

Her proffered pizza received just a single look from Arno before the troll hurled it into the reject pit. “Something must go!” he proclaimed, before turning to look back at Hat Kid with an impatient expression. Crossing his twig arms, he began to tap his foot.

The spindly troll saw this and chuckled. “Ooh, he’s starting to get angry. Better figure out what he wants.”

Figures she should have stuck with her initial instinct: not to trust pineapple. That’d be the last time she trusted to possibility of a minority selection to please. Regardless, she finally had her answer. All she had to do now was replace pineapple with bell pepper and she will have fulfilled the troll’s oblique request… hopefully. She moved to make the necessary modifications and tried once more.

Arno’s face lit up at the sight of it. “The perfect pizza! Gimme gimme gimme!” He reached out his little arms, but he’d be hard pressed to take it from the far more agile kid if she didn’t want to give it unconditionally, which she, of course, didn’t. She took one step back and held out a halting hand, bearing a semi-stern expression. She didn’t work for free! She would need something for her trouble; instructions on next steps would suffice. In accordance with her demands, she quietly explained through gesture non-specific word that she needed to move forward through the dungeon, allowing them to fill in the blanks on how she might do that.

With a confused look, Arno shrugged. “Look, I dunno how this place works. All I know’s pizza. If you want, you can have that painting. It’s not ours. Willa can get it for you. Just give me that pizza, please!” The troll dropped to his knees, a full half-inch less of height, and held up his hands to receive Hat Kid’s creation.

Looking up at the aforementioned painting, it became clear to her what she was supposed to do. There could be no doubt that it wasn’t a coincidence. The difference this time being that the three trolls--who were all depicted in the painting--weren’t trapped inside of it. They were luckier than they realized, in part for not realizing why. Reasonably satisfied with her answer, she happily relinquished the pizza unto the pleading creature, gently setting it down into his open palms before sauntering over to collect her reward.

The thin troll, evidently Willa, had gotten to her feet. Putting her hands on her ‘hips’, she told the kid, “You know, all that logic’s made me hungry. Tell you what: get me a pizza too, and I’ll knock the painting down for you.”

In between gigantic bites of pizza, Arno guffawed. “Hah! Good luck. She never likes anything I like.”

At the lady troll’s added request, Hat Kid stopped mid-stride just shy of her forward foot touching the ground, her expression and mood lowering almost unnoticably as the obvious frustration of an unexpected delay caused a hairline crack to form in her psyche. She would normally just take the painting down herself, but it was too high for her to reach with no means of climbing to it. Begrudgingly, she silently agreed to serve the taller she-troll, since she was apparently at her mercy. Luckily, Arno helped rule out the previous combination right away. Rather than jumping straight to a guessed combo, she would play the field more carefully by working her way up again, starting with mushrooms only.

With a spirit a touch lower than before Hat Kid presented the mushroom-only, cheese-devoid pizza to Willa. Immediately, the troll accepted the pizza, saying, “My compliments to the chef! You really know your stuff.”

Already done with his meal, Arno gaped. “What? You got hers first try and you took so long to make mine!?”

Laughing, Willa held the pizza in one arm as she walked over to the cave wall and punched it. The entire room shook, and the painting fell to the ground with a clatter. For a moment the third troll looked as though he might join in, but instead he waddled over the painting to present it to Hat Kid with a smile. “C-come again sometime! We d-do like seeing people, really. Maybe if there was a way out of this p-place…” With Shyler’s gift, the pizza puzzle had been solved.

Both surprised and relieved with her first answer being the correct one, even with the uncommon omission of cheese (a lucky mistake on her part), Hat Kid accepted Willa’s compliment, playing along by miming a proud mustache stroke. Obviously, she didn’t actually have one (that was a different [url=https://vignette.wikia.nocookie.net/a-hat-in-time/images/b/b4/Mustache_girl_transparent.png/revision/latest?cb=20171026232147]girl[/url]), but to her, it fit the visualized stereotype of her new title ‘Chef’. She then ceased her clowning and went to retrieve the painting from the third troll, who had no request of his own, but expressed an understandable desire to leave. Her eyes moved from him, to the exit, back to him, then she pointed a thumb to the exit as an implicit signal to follow her out. If they chose to heed her command, they would see just how much easier it was to leave than they seemed to think. Either way, Kid would head back into the central chamber to throw the painting into the encircling flame, sparing a few following seconds waiting expectantly to make sure the orange flames disappeared before moving on. By this time, the two grown men from before had arrived, previously unbeknownst to her. Whether she would return in time to encounter them, or they had come and gone by then, she would make her way into the blue-lit room next.