Afterglow Ampharos

Ampharos are the ultimate kid's bed. They have a built in nightlight and everything.

Age 30
trapped in Toby Fox's web of influence
Seen December 18th, 2018
Posted October 24th, 2018
672 posts
3.5 Years

Pure Class
-or- Slick

𝖎 ∭ 𝐌𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐫

James Cadbury. In butler fashion, he's called by his surname, and his first name is generally never mentioned unless he must state his full name, or it's an intimate situation where he's on a first-name basis.

Surnames are an uncommon thing in this world, but James has one. His father, Cassius Cadbury, was also in the business, as was his father and so on. James shares this classy “family name” to connect him with this family's history of great service.

𝖎𝖎 ∭ 𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

Cadbury is a Linoone who has been trained to stand biped, putting him at 3'3". As all Linoone, his half-lidded eyes are entirely blue except for his slit pupils, and brown stripes mark his creamy-furred body, most notably one stripe atop his head that forms an arrow.

He wears a little necktie, bordered by a short waiter's jacket over a white dress shirt. (Usually they are red and blue respectively, but Finer Things has requested a different colour to suit their theme.)

Nothing at all covers his lower body, but no matter. His large white claws have been filed down to a harmless blunt tip. His tail is held up in a shape similar to a squirrel's, and a comb tucked in his pocket ensures his fur is kept well-groomed at any time. James was lucky to have inherited very silky fur from the genes of his father, a rather rare male of the Cinccino species.

𝖎𝖎𝖎 ∭ 𝐑𝐞𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐭𝐨𝐢𝐫𝐞

Useful for quickly getting a replacement dish out to someone, or a second order. In a pinch, it may be needed for a stealthy, unscrupulous deed. When done right, this switch of objects can go entirely unnoticed.

Helping Hand.
Used quite literally toward both fellow staff and toward customers. When Cadbury lends a paw in aiding others, efficiency is increased twofold. Simply put, he is a naturally helpful person.

Odor Sleuth.
Checking the dish for everything that needs to be there before it hits the table. Sniffing out clues in other situations. Linoone are one of those species good at finding things with their sense of smell.

A sophisticated charisma is used to win over others. It can be used in conversation, in a simple glance, in his posture, or in exceptional presentation when a dish arrives. It's also handy in case he needs to excuse himself out of a mistake he's made.

Yes, this moveset makes Cadbury utterly unable to fight, but that is entirely within his character. He would never use violence, not with his refined demeanour, and he's certainly never had a lick of practice. Expect fancy-boy to get floored if it comes to that.

𝖎𝖛 ∭ 𝐔𝐩𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠

James was raised as a young Zigzagoon footman, and as he showed promise, he was groomed for a higher position. He was trained to stand upright, and raised to be polite, respectful, genteel, and serving. His father, Cassius Cadbury, insisted upon this training to stand biped, so James could easily perform duties with his forepaws. Not to mention the much more civilized appearance it lends.

Cassius also insisted young James keep his fur exceptionally groomed at all times. James was lucky to have inherited the same silky fur as his father, and Cassius was not about to let such fine fur go to waste with a disheveled appearance.

These lifestyle choices and this training stuck with Cadbury as he grew. He found his duties as a footman rewarding, and as he matured and gained experience, he became a butler, serving the wealthy and occasionally the famous.

Helping them enjoy themselves through his service is what he lives for.

But why might that be? Why would he adopt such an enjoyment for serving others?

Certainly the way his father raised him and the training he received from his tutor were both very significant factors, but there is perhaps something more there, something he would be harder pressed to put into words if he was asked. Maybe it's the feeling of being included in important settings, the idea of having a role there: not everyone gets to be in the sitting room where moneylenders and financial titans decide the fate of the economy, but he gets to be an active observer, even participant, as his master's trusted advisor. Maybe he likes it because his intelligence, diligence, and technique get appreciated by someone undeniably more important than he is: he can work his way into someone's heart so deeply that their autobiography is dedicated to him.

As recently as a year ago, Cadbury found himself between masters in his butler career, and took notice of a particularly fashionable Bar and Bistro that was just opening its doors. Cadbury had himself a look about the place on what just happened to be its opening day. My, what celebration there was to be had! And the joint was so sophisticated, yet without feeling stiff. Cadbury enjoyed himself thoroughly, and by mid-evening, he'd already made plans to become a regular customer.

That's when he realized they were hiring, and he knew. He knew becoming a server at a place like this would be every bit as fulfilling as working as a butler.

𝖛 ∭ 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐦𝐚

Cadbury has impeccable manners, enjoys serving others, and lets his kind heart show through his prim and proper demeanour.

The Linoone speaks formally, and appears to be in his 30s or 40s. He is very refined and genteel, but he's likely to fluster under the right kind of… unprofessionalism. He is by-the-book, comfortable only with the proper procedure, both that his employer has set, and that he considers part of his own lifestyle.

He is fastidious in maintaining a neat-and-tidy appearance, both in himself and his workplace. He is, however, not below delegation of such tasks to others when need be, given how often his job involved equal parts his own labour, and organization of maids and footmen.

What matters most in the butler's rules of conduct are personal presentation and attitude. You must always remember that your dress and demeanour say everything about your employers and their household (or bistro, in this case). You must stand up straight and you must always be smartly turned out. A good attitude means adopting a “no job too small” mentality. Good manners and total discretion are paramount.

Cadbury adopts the words of his father: “I have dedicated my life to the pursuit of excellent service. I feel strongly that the best service can be a bridge between cultures and lifestyles, and that good service makes the difference between clients feeling comfortable or ill at ease.”

He also takes to heart the words of his tutor: “Many people feel that having proper manners means being stuffy and pretentious, but I'm here to tell you that nothing could be further from the truth! You can be well-mannered, cultured, and a great home entertainer while being yourself -- in fact, there's no other way to be. For me, etiquette is not a set of classist rules of or rich, famous, or snobby people -- rather, it's a way of being, based on understanding other people and having consideration for their needs.”

𝖛𝖎 ∭ 𝐈𝐝𝐢𝐨𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐞𝐬

While Cadbury adopts the above mantra himself, he is not flawless, and can indeed come off as stuffy at times. It is not something he has come to terms with yet. It can be easy to forget his tutor's wisdom in some scenarios. At times, he's around some rich or famous people who are snobby themselves, and he becomes a mirror, adopting their mannerisms subconsciously to fit into the group, to be accepted. At other times, he's around people who are much less cultured than he is, and he comes off snobby in comparison, with all his drilled-in rules of etiquette. Prime example: If you know certain rules of etiquette but someone does not, it is rude and inappropriate to advise them and make them feel uncomfortable. But Cadbury probably does this anyway. Because how else are they going to learn, right??

Cadbury's rules of conduct for himself are a result of things passed down through generations and tradition, which is why many of them may be a little outdated. For example: “Followers are strictly forbidden, and any servant found fraternizing with a member of the opposite sex will be dismissed without a hearing.” Nowadays, romantic fraternizing among his kind is more common, though still taboo enough to be kept secret. And even the uninitiated can spot the loophole of gender in this old-fashioned rule.

Since he is “between masters” at this time (a polite way of saying that he can't find any masters with a spot available), Cadbury is likely to frame Finer Things as similar to a master in his mind. A master who has lots and lots of guests over to entertain and serve! Which is, again, a polite way of saying he may be leaning on Finer Things as a surrogate. So he projects his strict code of rules and etiquette onto the bistro's wait staff and the bistro's guests even though they just want another glass of wine, thanks.

He would also try to make his co-workers, the other servers, live up to his standards too. Standards which “should be the norm” for all servers in fine dining. But of course, this could be a fool's errand with some of them.

The Linoone is rigidly accurate, demanding strict attention to rules and procedures. He becomes displeased with anything that is not perfect or does not meet extremely high standards.

Cadbury is so built for one job, that he's treating the job he currently has as the job he is familiar with, the one he wants to have and is “supposed” to be living. He is self-resentful of the fact that he's a glorified waiter in a glorified restaurant, instead of managing a mansion by now, as he truly should be.

The Cadburies are known for generations of great service, so there is an idealized role to fill by the time it has hit James' shoulders. As the latest in the Cadbury family line, which holds a legacy of highly talented footmen, butlers, stewards, and other roles of service, James has high expectations placed upon him, and high expectations for himself as well. He has set a practically unattainable standard for himself. Any time he slips up (as he would inevitably, he's only mortal), he's falling short of this perfect butler model he ought to live up to. You can imagine how stressful this would be.

So, what is a badger butler to do when he's slipped up, when he has a lapse of propriety, or he's made a blunder that's upset someone? Under good circumstances, he would apologize for his unprofessional behaviour and excuse himself. But if something's driven him to act improperly by making him upset, he may react defensively, explaining why he was justified in doing whatever he did that was tactless or against regulation.

Perhaps his propriety isn't as immaculate as he perceives.

And let's see… some of his soft spots include cheesecake and adorable outfits. He's likely to do best in the cigar room, and would also do fine in the foyer, patio, and dining room. Is there anything else you'd care to know?

𝖛𝖎𝖎 ∭ 𝐀 𝐒𝐢𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐒𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠



Cadbury pulls the cab door shut as he settles into the backseat. No sooner is it closed, the Linoone produces a comb from inside his jacket pocket, and starts to fix his fur. It was a short jog from the building to the cab, but the drizzle outside managed to put a damper in his grooming nonetheless.

“Where ya off to, man?” the cab driver asks, his neck craning over his shoulder to reveal the face of a Gumshoos.

Cadbury looks at him from the backseat, pausing his work with the comb and lifting his brows.

The Gumshoos takes note of how the Linoone is dressed. “Sir,” he corrects.

Cadbury's brows drop again, and his comb sets back into motion. “33 Moore, thank you. And if you could not drive too terribly fast, I'd appreciate it.”

His comb finds its home back in an inside pocket of his jacket, and from the same pocket, a folded sheet of notebook paper is pulled. Cadbury wants to make sure he got the address correctly. Yes, there it is, just as Carmine wrote it. Cadbury exhales something of a pointed sigh.

The other day, a customer called the bird and asked if “that handsome Linoone from the other day” is single. Cadbury hasn't the foggiest why Carmine chose to divulge such information, but, long story short, this paper details a rather… ludicrous request. Even Carmine recognized it as a silly task to give his server, but he felt that it could only help the reputation of Finer Things with this particular customer, and Cadbury might even have some fun.

Cadbury has a date.

The butler-turned waiter filters out the sounds of the rain, of the traffic that envelopes the taxi cab. He runs his claw along the sheet of paper, absentmindedly chewing the inside of his lip while he ponders. Gently chewing, thankfully.

What is he going to do with this… this markedly unprofessional professional request? Can he even call it a professional request, at this point? His disciples have always said that romantic pursuits and guests must not mix, and in theory, the customers of a bistro are comparable to guests. But here he is with a request from his boss to go date one of them. It's a contradiction of orders and the code of conduct.

What is that bird thinking. This assignment is preposterously over the line. Who I date is part of my personal life. And I am certainly no… no harlot, some worker he can send off to gratify and enchant his customers.

Cadbury forces himself to calm his thoughts. He's being unfair toward his boss: it was not the Trumbeak's idea, it was the customer's. And it's both Carmine's and Cadbury's jobs to make the customers comfortable.

He wishes he'd been given a phone number instead of just a street address. He could call the customer, and make an excuse. Yes, like… he's already seeing someone. Or… he's already married. To his job.

No, no, lying to the customer would be a breach of trust, and that's hardly better than a breach of proper work conduct. He has to go, he can see no other way. He'll just have to give the cust-- his date, a nice evening, treading carefully as he goes. No… romance. Be charming, but not too charming. He mustn't give the impression that he wishes to make this a regular occurrence. That would only further complicate matters.

With a conclusion reached, Cadbury finally notices he's been chewing his lip. He really must stop doing that.

“Ah, did you come straight from work, Cadbury?”

“Oh, no, I simply enjoy this outfit.”

The Linoone has appeared in the doorway of his date's abode, dressed in the same short waiter's jacket and little necktie he'd worn at work, both in a deep stromboli green, the latter with a bold black, and a thin white stripe pattern.

“Though I admit my favourite is a blue and red combination. I'm told it matches my eyes,” he admits with a smile.

“I'll have to see it sometime! Speaking of, step in for a moment, I was just about to get dressed up myself.” Cadbury's semi-blind-date, a Lopunny, encourages the badger inside and onto a couch. “Sorry to make you wait, I'll only be a moment!”

With a brief chuckle, Cadbury leans back, sandwiching his large silky tail between his back and the couch. He has to wonder, does this bunny always get dates this way? Bit of an unusual method. Is the bunny aware of the taboo going on here? Cadbury almost wishes he'd been asked in person, but admittedly he would not have taken the offer in that case, flummoxed by the protocol between server and customer. The rabbit was clever in that regard, more clever than Cadbury had initially given credit, going through his boss like that.

“Ready!” Cadbury turns around at the announcement, looking over the back of the couch to see the Lopunny dressed in a dark suit and red bowtie. With paws set on hips that have jutted to the side, the bunny gives Cadbury a playful look. “How'd I do, up to your standards?”

Cadbury remains in his pose, peering over the back of the couch and frozen, his mouth just slightly open, eyes flicking up and down the Lopunny's form. His ears stand right up.

“Uh, Cadbury?”

He jolts back to attention, ears twitching, freed from his frozen state. “Oh, of course, don't, don't be silly! You look grand.”

So that must mean the Lopunny's name is Chris… Not Kris. Did Carmine honestly set him up with… with a man?

Cadbury had suggested a lower-key establishment to dine at tonight, but the Lopunny would have none of it, insisting on going to Cadbury's place of work. Cadbury finds himself embarrassed at the thought of being seen on a gay date by his co-workers and his bosses, but must go along with what Chris wants.

And as expected, the server at the table Cadbury and his gentleman friend are seated, just happens to be a staff member Cadbury works with. The Linoone feels the need to glance away whenever the server smiles at him in that teasing way.

The badger has never been forthcoming about his sexual preferences. This is a hell of a way to come out to his co-workers as, ah, more than heterosexual, let's say.

“Hey now, you're lighting up! What's with the red cheeks?” Chris asks, noticing the hue in Cadbury's face just before his picks up his menu.

“Ah, it's nothing, I…” Cadbury thinks quickly, and finds a way to reply honestly without telling a potentially offense truth. “I'm embarrassed, actually. I work with these fine ‘mon daily, and it's a very professional relationship, and… it's embarrassing to have them see me on a date.”

Which is true. It's just not the entire reason he's embarrassed.

“Aw! Well, you're cute when you show a little colour, so don't stop for my sake.”

Cadbury smiles, shyly but graciously accepting the compliment, and looking down at the table. He even fidgets.

Chris realizes that his date isn't looking at the menu. “Oh, that's right, I guess you know the menu by heart, huh? What're you gonna have, Cadbury, can you make any recommendations?”

“Actually,” Cadbury notes, “since this is a date, you may call me James.”

“James? Is that your real name?”

“It's my first name. Cadbury is my family name.” The badger finds his disposition calming down quickly now that the subject has changed. His blush is fading away.

“Really! I thought your first name was Cadbury! Huh, James Cadbury. Heh, you sound like a butler with a name like that!”

A smile breaks out across the Linoone's muzzle. “Funny you should say that…”

At the end of the date, the badger finds himself back where the date started, in Chris's doorway. The Lopunny thanks Cadbury for the lovely time, and adds, “I was sincerely hoping that… our lovely evening together wouldn't end here. Do you think you might… join me inside?”

Cadbury hesitates. His eyes move away from Chris's, apparently taken with a windowsill flower planter. “Ah, I… Inside? I'm afraid you caught me unprepared, I… I wasn't planning on extending tonight's festivities beyond the bistro.”

“Oh, that's no trouble.” With an incline of his head, the Lopunny's smile turns just a little more cunning. “I've planned enough for the both of us. I promise it'll be even more fun than the restaurant.”

Cadbury's large claws click together in front of his chest. Mental images are already forming in his head, and in turn giving rise to another blush overtop his muzzle. How can he gracefully bow out of this? His gaze returns to Chris, but his head remains turned to the side. “I'm afraid I'm not dressed for anything except a night out…”

“That, we can fix with ease.” Chris reaches forward, past those clicking claws. He takes hold of Cadbury's necktie, and pulls the badger gently across the threshold.

The next day, Cadbury comes into work, passing a familiar, beaked face.

“How was your date last night, Cadbury?” Carmine asks, allowing himself a curious smile.

“... More enjoyable than I would care to admit.”

((I had a blast writing this. I think I may have gone a tad too long. Haha.))

𝖛𝖎𝖎𝖎 ∭ 𝐀𝐧 𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐃𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞

“How exactly did you 'show so much promise' as a Zigzagoon that those around you started grooming you for better positions?”

“Was there any place you studied at or with your father during your childhood to become a servant?”

Pure Class

Cadbury leaned back in his chair, producing a quiet squeak. “Curious lad, aren't you? It's not often I chat with someone so full of questions.” With a single claw hooked through a teacup's handle, he paused to take a thoughtful sip, planning his wording carefully.

“Well, first of all, 'showing a great deal of promise' was the word my father used. Not all young footmen take to their job, you understand -- many begrudge their work. I've seen it myself. I remember my peers, fellow footmen and the like, they saw it all as... as chores they were being forced to do by some man with altogether too much money and influence.”

Cadbury's shoulder lifted in a one-sided shrug, his expression showing a moment to consider the notion. “And that view isn't wrong, strictly speaking. But I relished the role, personally, even as a boy. It was less about the work I was doing, and more about the act of serving others. Of course, I did the work well, and I was highly polite, and that's what my father meant when he said I showed promise.” The butler chuckles. “It doesn't hurt that my father wanted me to become a butler in the long run, in the first place. I suppose he was biased!”

After another sip, he continued along the same line of questioning to explain his studying. “I was tutored, actually. There isn't really a school for this type of thing. I had a tutor who would come to our house, or invite me to his, to teach me etiquette and common chores and tasks, and how to perform them with class and efficiency. This tutor worked closely with my father, and my father was also a good teacher when it came to etiquette.”

“It sounds pretty unnatural to stand biped for your species ... does it hurt? Do you ever resent being raised so rigidly by your father? Do/Did you ever yearn for something other than high-class servitude?”

The Linoone broke into a polite laugh. “Oh no no, it doesn't hurt!” His paw batted at the air dismissively. “Here, look at it this way. A Pikachu is perfectly comfortable standing quadruped or biped, yes? And it doesn't hurt him at all. Even quadruped Linoone will frequently rear up on their hind legs; they simply don't walk about that way. I was trained to stand upright -- this was again at the behest of my father -- so I could easily perform my duties with my forepaws. Not to mention it lends an air of, ah... how should I say... sophistication? Civilizedness?”

His eyes glanced away in recollection. “I wouldn't describe my father as rigid. I don't think there's anything to resent. I'm grateful for what he's done for me. I can't imagine my life as some uncivilized…” Instead of finishing his thought, Cadbury's eyes returned to his conversation partner, and he chuckled, catching himself. “Nevermind, let's move on, haha. Mustn't insult anyone.”

“I do yearn to be something more someday,” he agreed with a single nod. “Own some land of my own, my own butler... Host social parties at a mansion, or even a pleasant cottage if I cannot afford the former. Wouldn't that be a pleasant way to retire?” he asked, his smile spreading across his muzzle.

“Speaking of your father, did you ever get to know your mother? Was she ever in your life? I mean, you at least must be curious, considering you're the same species as her.”

“Ah, I was a bit of a daddy's boy, I admit. Mother used to work as a maid, though she's retired now. Fortunately we've never worked under the same master, as I would actually have rank on her.” He laughed politely. “Imagine that, hm? A butler telling his mother what to do in the workplace.”

He paused, eyes drifting and lingering on a spot on the floor. “When I was young… Mother needed a great deal of my help. Father's, too, but I was actually very involved myself, for a child. She, ah… she's afflicted with Alzheimer's.” The Linoone didn't look particularly happy to be talking about this subject, naturally, but he continued. “She required a lot of routine in her life to feel more stable, less stressed by lack of recollection. She needed familiarity. I, as a child, maintained that schedule for her, reminding her of daily routine and helping her though many of its aspects. To be honest, that… that prepared me for my current lifestyle almost as much as my tutor did.” He allowed himself a very small smile.

“I would love to hear about some of the families or masters you've served! Were any particularly memorable or left significant impressions on you or the way you live your life?”

“What caused you to be 'in-between masters' during the time you discovered Finer Things? What happened to the last one? Why have you had several masters instead of just having had one all your life?”

The butler perks up in his seat. “Ah, of course! Let's see... I'll just list some as they come to mind.

“I have worked for a Galvantula. Very sweet woman. Affectionate, kind. Lived alone. She had an interesting way of decorating her home, with these intricate webbings of spider silk.” He spread both arms, gesturing to the entire room he sat in. “Everywhere. The house was completely overtaken with them. They were pretty, but still sticky. It took some getting used to, that's for certain!” he laughed.

“In some cases, a butler serves for a family and not just one person. I personally worked for a family where the parents were good proper folk, but their son was the one who demanded the most of my work. There's no other way of putting it: he was lazy. It was exasperating, I admit. He wanted me to bring him everything, do everything for him. And yes, that is my job, but in my opinion it was just him acting in sloth.

“A later master I worked under taught me that the relationship between master and butler can be so much more than that,” he added to lighten the mood.
“A butler can be... a personal servant, an advisor, a confidant, a close friend,” he spoke slowly, his gaze cast toward a window.
Cadbury's teacup was placed on its saucer, freeing his paws. Subconsciously, one of them rested atop his other in his lap, squeezing lightly.
There was a distant look in his eye, a smile on his face.

His attention returned, as did his eye contact. He hadn't realized he'd broken them until just then. “Ah, yes. Who else...?” he asks himself, pulling another example from memory.

“I've also worked for an Alolan Meowth. She was single and enjoyed gambling a great deal. In fact, I... I was 'won' by her. You see, this Meowth, she and my employer at the time, they were gambling together. And in the final hand, during a fit of desperation to cling to their pride, my current employer bet my employment. The Meowth won, and I was obligated to go work for her.”

The Linoone leaned forward and inclined his head, tipping his nose downward to look at his conversation partner just a bit more seriously. His tone of voice hardens just enough to be noticeable.

“Let me teach you a hard lesson I've learned: no matter how successful you are at your job, there are always things beyond your control that may cause you to lose it. I've had my employment gambled away. I've had it transferred to friends of the family (under friendly terms, mind you). In a couple jobs, I was only hired for a temporary position to begin with. In one, I was to work with that master for life... and I did, as they passed away. Bless their soul.” He shook his head, shutting his eyes in a brief moment of sad recollection.
“In other situations, your boss loses his fortune and cannot afford the luxury of a butler anymore. In some, political danger necessitates you abandon your position.”

With another shake of his head, Cadbury took up his teacup and leaned back in his seat again. His eyes closed. “There are myriad reasons why you may transfer hands, or have to look for new work. It is in fact a rare myth that butlers find perfect masters whom they serve for life.”

𝖎𝖝 ∭ 𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐈𝐧𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

An envelope sits upon a side-table, sealed with a disk of wax, centered in the spotlight of a desk lamp. It is addressed: “For Cadbury's eyes only.”

Huge fan of Pokémon-only roleplay!