Are they still on for that? Apparently they're still on for that. He puts on makeup for the first time in almost two months, braids his hair, wears Fundy's shirt and leaves Schlatt's jacket at home. Looks professional. Looks pretty. 

To the Las Nevadas space needle. 

Quackity's at the top, drumming his fingers against the railing. One of the tables is set for two. He nods at Q when he comes up, pulls out his phone. "I'll let Wilbur know to come."

"I assume the table's for him and you?" 

"Yeah." He puts his phone away, fixes his eyes on the skyline. They keep darting down anyway, trying to catch glimpses of Wilbur. He's not too hard to spot, especially with Tommy trailing behind him, two moving dots against the snow.

"Right. So do you want me standing behind you, with you two but without a place setting, at a different table, what's the plan here?"

Honestly, he was expecting Q to pace and parkour around; expecting people to stay in one place is a recipe for being disappointed. "Standing behind me is fine."

So there isn't so much a plan, or if there is one it doesn't have blocking and Quackity doesn't want to tell him the rest. That's cool, he can work with that. 

Nothing to do now but wait. 

Here's Wilbur! (He's alone; Tommy must still be at the bottom.) When he sees Q he looks for a moment like he's been slapped, but he recovers quickly. "Hello Quackity, Q."

"Welcome, welcome! Wilbur, man, it's good to see you. Please, take a seat."

Wilbur sits. The shabbiness of his trench coat--more stain than fabric, really--stands out against the polished white quartz of the restaurant, the matching starched white shirts of Quackity and Q. He doesn't seem to notice. "As much as I'm enjoying the view, Quackity, I have to ask, why exactly did you invite me here?"

"To talk."

"No, you don't want me here just to talk. You're gloating."

If Quackity lets Wilbur rile him up, Wilbur wins. He counts his breaths, keeps them even. "I can't just ask for the pleasure of your company?" He cuts a piece of steak, wipes his mouth after eating it.

"Not without wanting something."

"And what do you think I want from you, Wilbur?"

"I'm here, aren't I? You have my time. Hell, you even have my money, Prime knows no one else is buying your burgers. I'd even say you have my attention." Quackity raises an eyebrow. "Which is a lot for me. You want--my dignity? My burger van? You can take it." Wilbur gestures with his fork rather than eating, the piece of steak speared on the end of it forgotten.

"I don't want your dignity, Wilbur. Or your burger van. I want for you to stop leaving TNT in my country. I was actually considering giving you a position today, did you know that? I was actually thinking, you've proven, maybe you're not who you used to be, maybe I can give you a second chance."

"...You still could."

"No, Wilbur. I've let a, a violently unstable man in charge of my country once, and I'm not going to make the same mistakes twice."

"I'm not--"

"No? Really? Look around you, Wilbur. Tubbo's not on your side, Quackity just broke up with you and defected. Healthy competition's good for the consumer. Lets them choose where they want to be, where they'll be appreciated. I mean--this is embarrassing for you, Wilbur. Now's your chance to surrender."

"You know me, Quackity. You're more insane than I am if you think I'm surrendering."

"Sorry, I thought you might have changed. That's what you keep saying, right? That you've changed?"

"I have changed."

(Q, standing behind Quackity's left shoulder with his hands clasped behind him, doesn't drop the polite, impersonal customer service smile. He does raise an eyebrow.)