Warning for Pearl's alien space rock food issues.
Just after the second practice session in a row for which Steven was absent due to sour candy-induced stomachache, while Connie is still very sweaty and a bit wheezy, Pearl pats her shoulder once and says, "I'd like to buy you ice cream. All right?"
So Connie follows Pearl to Cone 'N' Son, still in her training gear, feeling slightly stranded and surreal, and orders lime and coconut ice cream in a cup. Pearl buys strawberry vanilla in a cone and immediately hands it over to Connie once they're out of the shop.
"You're sure you don't want any?" Connie asks hesitantly while bravely attempting to keep both ice creams from dripping on her clothes. The flavor combinations are interesting.
Pearl shakes her head and shudders a little bit. They walk on in silence.
"So… where are we going?"
"Oh!" Pearl seems startled, like she's forgotten Connie was there. Which is entirely unfair, since she is the one who asked Connie to come with her and then bought her two ice creams. "I thought we'd go to the park, and, well, walk or, sit, and other… park-related things." She waves her hand in a vague gesture.
"Um," says Connie, trying to think of a way to explain why this sounds like a terrible, terrifying idea, and failing miserably. "Yeah. Okay."
Connie still isn't sure exactly how to act around Pearl when they're alone, especially when there's nothing to hack or pummel. When Steven is around it's never awkward (nothing is awkward with Steven) and Pearl even seems kind of loud and funny and approachable. But now they're walking silently together and Pearl looks very tall and purposeful and Connie's never been great at figuring out what other people are thinking and she doesn't know what to do.
Conversation remains nonexistent as they reach the city's public park; Pearl says absolutely nothing, except a warning about a pile of dog poop on the sidewalk, even as she leads Connie to sit stiffly on an old wooden bench. Connie can feel her nerves winding tighter with the passage of every wordless second.
Pearl crosses her legs and sighs audibly.
"Is everything okay with Steven?" Connie blurts out, fists clenching anxiously around her ice cream.
"What?" Pearl jumps and looks around as if to assess a threat, then relaxes. "Yes, of course, everything's fine. Why?"
"Because!" says Connie, feeling a bit frantic. "We are sitting on a bench in the park and I have two ice creams and this is weird and I'm really worried!"
Pearl frowns at her. "Don't you human children enjoy parks and your frozen sugar milk?"
Connie takes a breath. "Pearl," she says as evenly as she can manage, though her pitch is a little elevated. "Why did you buy me ice cream?"
Pearl blinks, as if surprised. Connie wants to groan out loud. Is there some secret Crystal Gem ice cream code that she's somehow embarrassingly ignorant of? (If so, why does Steven never tell her these things!) "You performed very well today," Pearl says like this is very obvious. "The ice cream is congratulatory."
Connie opens her mouth, closes it. Her teeth sort of click. "Oh," she says eloquently. "Um. Thanks."
"Maybe I could have set this up less alarmingly," says Pearl, tapping her lips thoughtfully. She glances at Connie and briefly fiddles with her sleeve. "I'm sorry, Connie. Good job. I'm proud of you."
Connie lets out a breath. "Wow. Okay."
"Possibly you could give me some suggestions as to how to go about this sort of thing in the future," Pearl continues loudly. "Uh. If that's something you'd like."
"Wow," Connie says again, feeling inarticulate and relieved and a bit pleased. "Maybe let me know what's going on next time. Also I don't need more than one ice cream. And we could invite Steven?"
"Right," says Pearl. "That's feasible enough." She holds out her hand. Connie isn't sure what she's trying to intimate – does she want a low five? – and then Pearl gestures pointedly at the half-melted strawberry ice cream.
Connie gives a strange, startled laugh. "Yeah?"
Pearl grimaces, and then smiles, and grimaces again. "Yes," she confirms.
Connie hands her the ice cream cone. Pearl gives it a lick, looks like she's struggling very hard not to blow a raspberry, then holds it at an angle away from her body and ignores it. It drips languidly between the bench's posts.
"So," says Connie. "Have you seen Dogcopter 3?"
Pearl rants for fifteen minutes about everything physically nonsensical in Dogcopter 3, and Connie tells her about a movie idea she has, involving an alien species whose language is dependent on light. They spend a long time poking holes in the nonexistent script. Pearl has a lot of very technical, thematically incongruent advice. By the time they move on to discussing parrying techniques, the sunlight's turned orange, they've arranged themselves cross legged on the bench, compact and at ease, and whatever's left of their ice cream has been reduced to sticky colorful puddles on the pavement (mostly pink ones, though).
Not the worst possible ending to an armed combat training session, all things considered.