Waking up to the sun's devilish light blaring through haphazardly closed blinds was always a less than perfect way to start the morning. She should really invest in some blackout curtains, but that shit is expensive and Three doesn't have to cash to spend on anything non essential. You'd think being an SBS agent would pay a bit better - what with it being a government run shindig - but you'd be wrong. Turf wars and salmon runs were luckily enough to fill the gaps, since her usual paycheck left something to be desired. But try as she might, she couldn't understand how the hell Callie and Marie of the motherfucking Squid Sisters couldn't afford to give her a little raise. Like… sure, they weren't technically in charge, and as such, didn't technically have the authority for that. But surely they could put in a good word for her.

That said, it was far too early to be getting herself in a tizzy over her pay grade. Three had all the time in the world to bitch about that, but for now, she should probably check to see if Eight had woken up. She had (at first apprehensively,) agreed to take the Octarian in when it became clear she had nowhere else to go. Her idol friends lead busy lives, after all. They didn't have time to take care of a lost and curious octo-girl. As the weeks went by, Three found herself growing more and more endeared to her fellow agent. Dare she say… maybe a bit too endeared. Like so endeared that her attachment to Eight had long since encroached upon crush territory.

Which sucked by the way.

For so many reasons. For one, Three was too dysfunctional to even consider dragging Eight along with her. That wouldn't be very fair. Second, there was no way Eight felt the same. Why would she? The inkling was many things, but she wasn't a moron. There weren't any reasons for her feelings to be returned. And since she felt confident her affections wouldn't lead anywhere, the feelings only ever caused trouble. She wished she could squash the butterflies in her stomach; squash those fluttery bastards with intense and violent prejudice.

But alas… As anti-social, and awkward and self-hating as Three was, she couldn't help feeling a little lighter and happier around Eight. She couldn't help but stare whenever her peach eyes grew wide in wonder at Inkling society, or when the wind blew her tentacles out of her face. Or whenever the two would turf, how enchanting the octoling looked while she was inking and splatting. Considering how laughably awful most of the people she fought with or against were, it was refreshing to have someone actually competent participating in turf wars with her.

Of course, it was no that Eight had gotten plenty of practice; not just during her time trapped by Kamabo, or that ordeal with the phone, but her time spent serving the Octarian army as well. That fact used to make Three mildly uncomfortable to acknowledge (if only because she's been known to splat loads of Octarian military personnel. It was like… her job, after all,) but soon the notion lost its strange atmosphere, and she found herself actually commending the octoling's old superiors for training such a skilled combatant.

Done being reflective, Three sat up in bed and stretched her tired limbs. Her bed wasn't the most comfortable thing on Earth, but it was adequate enough to provide refreshing sleep. It beat the futon Eight had been relegated to at least. Of course, she'd offered her bed to her guest just as any decent host would. But Eight had been adamant in her refusal. Three would be a liar to say she wasn't a bit glad she'd been able to keep her bed, but she still felt kind of bad about Eight's sleeping arrangement.

And yes, the thought of sharing had crossed her mind several times. But hell to the fuck no. The inkling would implode if she woke to find a cuddly octoling by her side, and she'd rather save herself that embarrassment.

She pulled herself out of bed and fell numbly on her feet. She was still tired, but… the day needed to start eventually. She had planned to go shopping today, and maybe play some turf war should she have time. Peering side-eyed at her clock, the time read 9:36 AM. Yeah, definitely time to get up.

Sighing, and taking one last longing stare at the cozy sheets of her bed, she made her way out into the living room. There she found, unsurprisingly, that Eight was already awake.

Frowning, Three hoped she hadn't been awake for too long. Only a couple days of sharing a home had passed before she found out about the poor girl's nightmares. She'd woken up to the sound of cluttering noise and gasping breath. The inkling wasn't crystal clear about what all happened to Eight up until she found her in that giant blender, but even then, if that fact she'd been put in a giant fucking blender was any indication, the girl had been through a lot.

"Morning," Three spoke up, flinching when the octoling jumped at her sudden appearance.

"O-Oh! Morning Three! Did you uh… did you sleep well?"

Three shrugged sleepily, "I slept alright I guess…" She paused, fixing Eight with a questioning expression, "Did uh… did you?"

She replied with nervous laughter and averted gaze, "Oh y'know… as well as usual, I guess.¨

Not necessarily the answer Three had hoped for but not an answer she was surprised by. "Right well… you want some breakfast or something? I need to leave pretty soon but I could make you some toast? Cereal maybe?"

"Ah…" Eight glanced down at the ground in an uncharacteristically sheepish manner. She drummed her clawed fingertips anxiously against her knee, eyes squinting as though she were lost in thought. And Three, with curiosity, noticed the ink rushing to her cheeks; dusting them in pink blush. "Sure… thank you, Three."

"Er…" Three took a few steps towards Eight, who in turn, flushed an even deeper shade of pink. "You alright there? You look sorta… off? You don't have a fever do you?" Hesitantly and while damning the warmth she felt whenever she got close to her roomate, she raised a hand gingerly to Eight's forehead in order to check her temperature. She felt alright… maybe a teeny tiny bit hot, but nothing concerning. "Well you feel fine so… whatever." Three mumbled something inaudible and turned heel to retreat back into the kitchen. "You want some grub or not? Callie and Marie have my ass booked for the rest of the week, so I really need to run some errands today." Three scowled, then added pissily under her breath, "Damn super idols, getting me to do all their grunt work while they go to fucking interviews and shit motherfuc-"

Contrary to popular belief, Three actually did like the Squid Sisters. Not necessarily their music, - call her a hipster, but she preferred to not listen to mainstream pop garbage - but she did enjoy them as people. Three wasn't an inkling of many friends, but the ones she did have, she'd easily take a bullet for. And, though she acted like they weren't, Callie and Marie were two of her closest friends, and not only did she like their company, but she had a fair bit of respect for them.

"W-well if you need to go… t-that's probably fine. I'll figure something out, but uh… but first I…" Eight wasn't by any stretch of the imagination an eloquent speaker, but she could usually get her thoughts out with relative ease. And why the hell, Three wondered, was she so blushy?

"Eight, for real," Three crossed her arms and leaned into the kitchen counter. Sure, she needed to go shopping but like… something might've been wrong. Curse her caring heart. "You doing okay? Anything bothering you?"

"N-no nothing like that just—"

"You sure?" Three interrupted, unamused though still with a layer of concern deep within her voice, "cause you look like something's bothering you."

"I… I just…"

For the love of Cod, this was starting to grate on Three's patience. "Eight—"

"DO YOU WANT TO GO ON A DATE WITH ME?!"

Dead silence suffocated the room.

What the…? No she hadn't… Had Three heard that right…? No she couldn't have just… there's no way Eight had… Three blinked, her mind struggling to comprehend the words which had left the octling's beak. Her lips pressed tight into a straight line and her baby blue eyes stared unbelieving at the flustered Octarian, who was now, a pile of bumbling apologies, explanations, and ludicrous amounts of ink coloring her face.

"T-three wait that came out… I mean like… Okay so," Eight stuttered for a moment before beginning to slip messily between Octarian, and Inklish. "Like do you wanna go out? or… shit," it was rare for Eight to cuss. Actually… Three had only heard her do so a couple times. Although, according to Maria, the younger agent's language was much more colorful when she spoke in Octarian. Which was interesting to think about but was not at all at the forefront of the inkling's mind.

Eight had asked her… on a date… right?

No she… Damn, Three's wells of insecurities and doubts were beginning to surface. She needed to leave. She couldn't be there any longer; she felt like cursing herself out, or maybe Eight… or maybe crying because she was about to run away from something she'd secretly been yearning for, and something she's wanted forever… No, Three hated crying.

Time to leave.

"A-anyway Eight I gotta go! Aha, you know how it is, a-and I'll get back to you about that later so okay-bye-I-gotta-now-go-see-you-later—!"

At mind boggling speeds, Three bolted out the door and slammed it shut before Eight could get even a word out. Without stopping to think, she super-jumped as far as she could possibly travel in one single leap.

It was actually fairly illegal to super-jump in and out of public spaces, but Three didn't care. It was a fast and convenient means of escape.

Upon landing, she was delighted to find she'd touched down right in the middle of the fucking road because of-fucking-course she did. This is, by the way, exactly why super-jumping in and out of crowded areas wasn't allowed. In court, it could easily be considered reckless endangerment. It was times such as these however that combat experience came in handy, and luckily she was able to dodge oncoming traffic without dying. Wouldn't that have been embarrassing? Super-jumping away from your crush, (your crush who'd just asked you on a date,) into traffic, and getting hit by a coddamned car.

Tumbling out of the road and hitting the concrete with a solid, moderately painful thud, Three growled and seethed silently to herself. The cars she'd jumped in front of hadn't crashed, so that was good. But an extremely angry crustacean was giving her, what she assumed, was their version of 'flipping the bird.' It was hard to tell though, what with the giant claws. Without hesitation, Three gave him her own, proper, middle finger in return.

She didn't really know why, after all, that was totally her own fault. But her mood had suddenly taken a drastic nosedive and the inkling was feeling much less polite than her irritability would allow.

After that, she simply sat motionless in the dirt, watching the cars pass by. She needed a moment to ponder what had just happened. Why did she run? Well… she knew why, but she didn't want to think about it.

She was afraid. And insecure. And more than anything else, surprised. Why would Eight possibly want to go on a date with her? Maybe… maybe she was just confused? Maybe she didn't know what a date was? Three thought better of that theory as soon as it had entered her mind. Eight might've been new to the surface, but she wasn't an idiot. Besides, her behavior just prior to the invitation was anything if not confirmation that yes, she was aware of her own intentions. So why?

Eight was such a sweetheart. She was nice, and polite, and soft spoken and everything Three wasn't. Of course, her roomie had told her before how sweet she was but… The older cephalopod didn't see it. Eight was really pretty, too. Like mind-blowingly so. Three was scrappy and beat up all the time. Her multitude of scars spoke volumes of that. The worst of the worst being the large green-ish one plastering a good third of her face, right where that dumb mind-control goop had stuck itself onto her. She hated her scars. Especially that one. It looked hideous, and whenever she saw it, she was reminded of the disgusting, terrifying feeling of cold slime burning her and sapping away her freewill. It was… well… fairly traumatic…

She was brash, and often acted without thinking. She spoke in such an unflattering manner, she lacked social skills, she didn't like showing her emotions she was… so, very, very, flawed.

Yet Eight, wanted to go on a date with her…

A small part of her even played with the idea that maybe, just maybe, Eight was pulling her leg? See, but unlike a lot of people populating the streets of Inkopolis, Eight wasn't a total bitch.

So no doubt had the octoling not only A) asked her out knowing full well what she was doing, but B) she was more than likely being sincere.

As clear as day as it might've been though, Three just couldn't believe or accept that.

Sighing in defeat, the agent pulled herself off the ground and dusted off. She had nothing better to do than shop, and it had been on her to-do list anyways so… may as well get that done. She knew it'd be awkward when she finally got home, but for now, she opted not to pay that any mind. She'd cross that bridge when she got to it.

And so, feeling confused and irritated and a fair bit upset at nobody but herself, Three made her way to The Plaza.

She missed The Plaza. She'd spent a significant portion of her life living in those parts; The Plaza her main hangout for years and years. She knew it didn't make any sense to detest Inkopolis Square, as she understood her judgement was distorted by nostalgia. But still, whenever she could, she'd make the time to visit her old stomping grounds.

It was significantly less crowded these days. Ever since Callie and Marie stepped down as the resident news anchors, there wasn't much tourist traffic aside from turf wars. And while that alone had kept the place alive for awhile, the rising popularity of Off The Hook sucked in what few loyal inklings the Plaza had retained. It certainly hadn't helped when Sheldon moved business to the Square as well, effectively taking turf wars with him. The old joint was still running, but nowadays it was only for casual players who happened to be passing by.

In all honesty, while perhaps saddening, the lack of crowding was also decently soothing. Three was unsurprisingly, not a fan of crowds.

She made her way slowly to the shops, making sure to take her sweet, sweet time. The longer she shopped, the longer until she needed to go home and…

What was her game plan? Ignore what happened? Explain to Eight that she could do better? Explain that even though she desperately craved companionship, the idea scared the shit out of her and she hates herself too much to give it a shot regardless?

Ugh. Maybe she could just jump into the ocean and die. Yup, that sounded good. That sounded like a pretty ten outta ten course of action. That seemed—

"Yo! Three!"

Snapped from her brooding inner monologue, Three stopped and turned to investigate who or what had called out to her.

Frankly, when she found the culprit, she wasn't sure if she should be annoyed or surprised.

Standing there, in the near abandoned streets of Inkopolis Plaza, were no other than Pearl and Marina of Off The Hook. Now… Three didn't necessarily dislike these two per say, just… it was always weird whenever Eight wasn't there to be the conversational bridge between both parties.

"Oh… uh… hey?"

Pearl smirked, and with a smug, haughty look on her face, she looked around and mused, "Whatcha doin all the way out here, dude? Is Eight with you?"

For some reason, Three felt the inclination to flip both of them off as hard as she'd done the poor lobster from earlier. But she restrained herself. "No," the inkling groaned, "she isn't with me." At this, both Pearl and Marina seemed legitimately surprised. As if they'd been eagerly anticipating a yes. "Moreover, why are you two here? Shouldn't you be at the Square doing… whatever talentless pop stars do?"

Sometimes Three wondered why she was so rude for no reason at all. But more than that, she wondered why everyone always put up with it. Both idols seemed only mildly miffed by the comment, as if a friend had called them by an obnoxious nickname, or like they'd dropped a cracker while trying to eat it. But overall, they seemed completely unphased by the undeserved aggression.

"Actually," Marina began to explain, "we like to come here on our free time to get away from all the attention. We're grateful for our popularity, of course. But it can be a bit stifling."

"I see…"

"Okay but," Pearl stepped in, her eyebrows were raised in timid curiosity, "Eight for reals isn't with you? Did like… did she talk to you this morning or…?"

Okay, Three's gut was picking up on a myriad of red flags. The way the tiny rapper was staring her down, and the way she was asking… it was almost as if...

Three crossed her arms, firmly shooting Pearl an unforgiving and guarded glare. "Why?"

"Woah now, settle your ass down," Pearl took a step back upon receiving Three's murderous glower. Marina however, took a quick step forward; her stance protective and near motherly. "I'm not trying to start shit but now you've got me kinda worried. Did Eight talk to you or not? And cut the bullshit, I'll know if you're lying."

The agent rolled her eyes with hyperbolic exasperation. But she understood (although begrudgingly) that there wasn't much point in lying so… "Yeah. She did."

Both famed celebrities exchanged a sideways glance before turning their attention back on Three. "Was it… anything exciting?" Marina inquired, as though she were being subtle.

So, yeah, it was pretty obvious they both knew about what had happened. Or rather, Three supposed, what was supposed to have happened. And since they obviously knew, she didn't see why they should beat around the bush. "Okay stop," she looked from one girl to the other, appearing as wholly unamused as she possibly could. "I don't know why or how you two are involved, or how responsible you are for the clusterfuck that just happened. But I'm gonna tell you right here and now that me and Eight aren't on a date and we probably won't…" The inkling began to trail off as bitter realization hit her like a splat-bomb, "and we… we probably won't ever go on one… so… yeah."

The range of emotions Pearl and Marina managed to express without words was, to tell the truth, pretty impressive. The feelings Three could pick out included concern, anger, and thoughtfulness. But surely there were others she was simply too inept to understand.

Pearl took a deep breath, then looked towards Marina with a resolute, toothy grin. "Hey babe? Can you give us a minute? I'm kinda on a roll today and I wanna see if I can keep this going."

Marina smirked, both amused and endeared by her partner's determination. "Sure thing, Pearlie. Take your time. I'll be in the shoe store if you need me and…" Her eyes briefly flickered to a dejected and frustrated looking Agent 3. "Tell me… if anything serious happened with her and Eight." Saying all she needed to say, and after pressing a soft yet affectionate kiss to her girlfriend's waiting cheek, Marina left the duo to talk.

Three watched the octoling leave; wanting to pay attention to literally anything other than the expectant silence emanating off the short inkling next to her. She had never tried to talk to Pearl one-on-one and she already knew this was bound to be stupid and awkward. For some reason though, she wasn't able to force her feet to carry her away. She'd typically have little to no issue ditching conversations she didn't care to partake in but… some unseeable force was keeping her in place this time.

"So," Pearl started, taking a quick moment to closely examine Three. "Before I start trying to get to the root of our problem here, I want you to tell me if you did or said anything to hurt Eight's feelings."

"What? No of course I didn—" Well… actually, she wasn't sure. She had left in such a hurry that she hadn't taken the time to check and see how Eight felt about her fleeing the scene. "I… I mean… I… hope not…"

Pearl looked to consider this. She rolled Three's words carefully around in her head, as if analyzing their sincerity. Before long, she let out a soft breath and gave Three a reassuring pat on the back. "Alright man, I'll give you the benefit of the doubt." They made eye contact - something Three wasn't generally fond of - before the idol added both darkly and humorously, "Me and Marina love that kid though, so if you actually like seriously for reals ever hurt her, we'll bury you, got that?"

"Sure…"

The words only managed to be half as threatening as they should've been since Three was sure she could take them both in a fight but… the point got across nonetheless.

"Now then," Pearl put her hands on her hips and smiled wide at her fellow inkling. "I wanna ask what happened and why you're being all sulky and angsty, but first, you probs wanna know what me and Marina have to do with anything, huh?"

Admittedly, yes. She needed to know how pissed she should be at them. "Uh huh."

"Okay well basically the long and short of it is that Eight's been feeling hella fucking gay for you, and was all worried she wasn't good enough or some shit. So I gave her a killer pep talk and told her to go for it." Pearl paused, biting her lip hesitantly. "I take it that didn't go great, huh?"

That's…

Three didn't know if she wanted to die laughing or strangle an unborn child. Eight, sweet, perfect, beautiful Agent 8… didn't think she was good enough for Three? What? That was absurd.

When Three didn't respond, Pearl decided to prompt the agent into saying something. "Why don't you tell me what went down, kay?"

She had literally nothing to lose. Though Three despised these sorts of conversations, for some reason unbeknownst to her, she felt compelled to share with Pearl the day's happenings. "Sure I guess… Ummm… shit so…" Three sighed, and shuffled her feet against the rocky asphalt on which she stood, "Basically Eight was acting super weird and I thought maybe she was sick or some shit? But then she asked me on a date and like… I know what that means, but I can't make myself understand it, y'know? Anyway, then I ran like the stupid asshole I am, super-jumped away and nearly got killed by traffic. So today's been fantastic."

Pearl studied Three silently for an unnerving period of time. Seconds passed wherein the pop star just sat there staring at her with an unreadable look on her face. Just as Three was getting ready to ask what the fuck she was staring at, Pearl tilted her head to the side, much like a confused dog. "And can I ask why you decided to run?"

"I don't know!?" Three flushed with an interesting concoction of embarrassment and rage. Why was she like this? She could've at least let Eight say what she wanted to say. But no, she had to turn around and run away. Cod she was pathetic.

"I think I know why," Pearl informed with a self-satisfied tone of voice. Her smile was so shit-eating that Three was shocked the entire Plaza couldn't smell her breath. "I think you're scared."

Well no dip, Pearl. Why else do people flee in unflattering terror? Thanks Sherlock, you've cracked the caper!

"Whaaaat?" Three's sarcasm was deadly; it was sharp and sour, and would likely leave a sweet, elderly woman in tears. Not that she would dare use her weaponized derision against a poor, defenseless old lady. She wasn't a monster. "Reeeally? Cod damn, if only I'd figured that out myself! Fuck, you really have me pegged."

"Okay, smartass," the older inkling scoffed. Though she seemed more amused than offended. "Tell me why you're being such a baby then."

The agent groaned with exaggerated anguish and dug her fingers into her temples. Thank the stars she hadn't unsheathed her claws, because she would've definitely broken some skin. "I don't know…" was all she managed to get out between grit teeth. She noted though, with hefty shame, that she had needed to force a whimper out of her voice.

Then, seemingly out of nowhere, Pearl's face became something so serious, so out of character, so purposive, that Three wasn't sure if she'd imagined it. "Bullshit, you know exactly why. It's cause you're worried you're not good enough, just like Eight was. It's cause you don't want to cause her trouble, and are too caught up with your own angsty, self-deprecating crap to see that the girl is so obviously in love with you. Like for real yo? Eight fucking adores you, and anyone with any semblance of sense can see you like her too so just…" Pearl bit the inside of her cheek in a feeble attempt to get herself to stop talking. This was sensitive subject matter, after all. "Just… go talk to her, man."

Huh that was… not what Three had expected to hear from the notoriously silly and immature young rapper. "Woah…" The agent's cheeks colored over with green blush, and she was unable to stop Pearl's surprising words of encouragement from replaying a couple dozen more times within her head. "I… Shit…" When was the last time someone had been so unashamedly supportive of her? Well there was Eight of course…

"Hey," Pearl tapped Three on the shoulder and gave her a playful, yet incredibly warm and sincere smirk, "I promise you're not as awful as you think you are. Like… you're kind of an asshole, but hey, so am I!" She giggled, allowing her golden eyes to drift longingly towards to the shoe store wherein her beloved girlfriend had gone off to. "And even so, Marina loves me, y'know? Maybe we actually do suck, and maybe octolings just have really low standards but…" She chuckled light heartedly and bumped Three's shoulder once more, "I like to think that ain't the case."

Had Pearl always had her head so squarely on her shoulders? For some reason, Three hadn't thought so… and… wait a minute…

The inkling touched a hand to her face and—

Damn it. She was was crying. She hated crying.

Ashamed, Three turned her head and started to dab away the unwanted droplets which leaked disobediently from her eyes.

"Aww, you're such a baby," Pearl teased.

"S-shut the fuck up."

Then, as if Pearl hadn't surprised her enough these past few minutes, Three felt herself being pulled into a quick hug. Her first instinct was to pull away, to ask Pearl what she thought she was doing, to disregard any and all affection given to her by others but… she just… couldn't. Three was the kind of person to clam up when hugged or spoken to by others. Especially people she didn't know very well, (such as Pearl,) but this was… surprisingly not terrible. So much so, that when the MC pulled away, Three almost wished it had lasted longer. Almost.

"Alright," Pearl got Three's attention with a small and cheerful voice, "go talk to Eight. I'll shoot her a text and tell her you're on your way."

"W-wait but—"

"No buts!" Pearl whipped out her phone and gave the agent an eager thumbs up, "Go talk to Eight before me and Marina tag team your ass, okay? And like… let us know how it goes."

She started typing, what Three could only assume, was a heads up to Eight about Three's imminent arrival. Encouraging pep talks aside, Three kind of felt like throwing up. Was she actually about to…? No she couldn't possibly…

"Dude, get outta here before the bad thoughts convince you not to, you silly asshole." Pearl had to be a psychic, Three firmly decided.

"O-okay… Just… okay… fuck," She was actually going to do this, wasn't she?

"And Three," Pearl called out, "don't be a stranger, okay? You seem pretty rad, and if this goes well, you'd better believe we're hanging out more. I'm not gonna be your wingman if I can't also be your bro."

Three would never admit it but… she kinda… maybe… sorta… liked the sound of that.

Nodding softly in affirmation, Three turned to leave. She could do her shopping some other time. Or… well no, actually, she couldn't. As said, she'd be busy for the rest of the week… but this was important damn it!

Looking over her shoulder only to briefly wave her unexpected savior goodbye, Three quickly began to jog to the nearest train station.

Had you told her yesterday, that today, she'd be asked out by Eight, nearly hit by a car, allow herself to cry in front of Pearl, then actually have the courage to go accept Eight's invite, she wouldn't have believed it. Yesterday, her crush on Eight was nothing more than distant and inconvenient wishful thinking.

But now… she thought, for a moment of hope and wonderful joyousness, that perhaps she had a chance after all.