"Steven, that's... Well, I mean..." Greg was truly at a loss here. And poor Steven, who still sat in his beach clothes across from him on the couch with the most puzzled expression he could muster, he deserved someone who could properly explain all of this. Rose had never really specified what this discussion should entail. Should he come right out and say it? Drop hints? Be subtle? More obvious? How would a twelve-year old be able to handle something like this…?

His son still held the perpetrator, the cause of all this, in his little hands, gently cradling the thing. It was as beautiful as he remembered, glowing a gentle lavender, even indoors. He blew a breath out, then breathed in. Alright.

"Son, there are things you need to know... uh, about me. And about you. Well, and... and your mother..."

wWw

Greg furiously kicked at the sand, tossing another rock out into the ocean. Stupid Marty. Stupid career. Stupid life. So what if no one showed at his gig? This was a dead-beat town anyway, and his manager was the one that booked the thing! Marty had no right to blow up at him, and push his buttons, get under his skin... Write more music! Write better music! Easier said than done, and where was Marty? Out partying? With some chick? While he, what, slaved away for nothing? Unfair.

Greg could think of a few words to describe Marty, and fair wasn't one of them.

He sighed, long and hard, sitting down and staring out to the ocean. Heh. He'd been to the coast a couple times, but he'd never really taken time to just look at the ocean. Too much to do, he guessed. It was nice, nothing too glamorous. But calming. The horizon was dark already, and Greg wished that he coulda watched the sunset or something. They were supposed to be legendary. Maybe he'd write a song about it. No, too cheesy. He needed better material, jeez. There were only so many words that rhymed with space.

"The moment that I hit the stage..." He sang softly, turning his head into the breeze as it brushed past him. He could smell the water, and the sand, and it was a lot better than those candles they sold. "I hear the Universe callin' my name..."

His heart lifted as he began to sing with more fervor. "And I know deep down in my heart I have nothing to fear..." He stood and smiled around his lyrics. He was Mr. Universe, he'd figure something out.

"And as the solar wind blows through my hair, knowing I have so much more left to share," Greg clenched a hand and brought it to his heart. "A wandering spirit who's tearin' its way through the cold atmosphere, I fly like a comet..."

He started to wind down again, smile still in place. "Soar, like a comet. Crash like a comet. I'm just a comet..."

Clapping startled him from his performance-induced haze, and he looked behind him, then left and right. He was alone on the beach, he was sure. His gaze traveled down, and in front of him, in the water. It took him a second to realize that there was not a decapitated head in the water, but that someone watching him from it. Huh. He couldn't tell really in the dark, but she looked kinda... pink?

"Hey, uh. Kinda late to be swimming, don't you think?" Greg said, laughing nervously. Her eyes were beautiful, her hair- what he could see of it, anyway- curled magnificently, just beginning to dry near the top. And she had the sweetest smile that he'd ever seen on her lips.

"Not for me." She replied, her voice washing over him like warm rain. He felt goosebumps rise on his arms.

"I-is that right?" He stuttered, and he felt his face flush. He hoped she couldn't see.

"I liked your song… tell me, though- what is a comet?" What kind of question was that? Was she being sarcastic…? She looked at him expectantly, and he moved closer, so that the tide brushed a little in front of his feet. She must've been treading serious water, but she didn't bob or anything. It was a little unsettling.

"Uh, let's see… a comet is like, a rock from space that enters the Earth's atmosphere, and burns up. If it's dark and you're in the right spot, you can see 'em, and sometimes there's a whole bunch of 'em at once." She nodded, then her brows furrowed. She laughed deeply, shoulders rising out of the water. Goosebumps rose on his arms at the sound. She was captivating.

"Oh, that just raises even more questions. What's your name, then?"

"Greg, Greg Universe. Yours?" He answered, running a hand through his hair. Greg'd answer anything she asked without hesitation.

"Pink- No, Rose Quartz." She titled her head. "Nice to meet you." He nodded in response. The sound of the waves filled the air then, and Greg wasn't sure what to say. Rose looked him up and down. He could feel her eyes, like coals searing his skin. She pursed her lips. Opened them. Closed them abruptly.

"Something on your mind, Rose? Sometimes it helps to get it off your chest." He offered to her, smiling at her lowered brows. He sat and folded his legs underneath him, and she watched him carefully. "Like… okay, this is gonna sound bad, but no one showed up at my concert tonight, right? So I'm already pretty down, and then my manager gets all angry and tells me off, which just ground my gears. Then I came out here to calm down. I dunno. I don't feel so bad about it any more. Even more so now that I've met you, honestly."

Rose sighed. "Everything you say confuses me, Greg Universe."

"Is… is that a good thing?"

"Oh, it's the best…!" Suddenly, another head popped up beside Rose. It was small and round, like a child's, framed by short, white hair. What…?

"Told you so. They're weird, aren't they? Hey, White's looking for you, I think. Somethin' 'bout Blue. HEY HUMAN!" The new figure said this all in about three seconds, and Greg scrambled back when they directed their attention to him. "WE GOTTA GO NOW, OKAY?"

"Amethyst, it can hear just fine. You don't need to yell." Rose reprimanded, and Greg's mind whirled.

"I know. I jus' like yelling." Amethyst said cheekily, waving to Greg. "Byeeeee~"

The kid went back under, and Greg felt a flash of panic. It wasn't like they could breathe underwater! ...Right?

"I apologize for Amethyst. She's very young, you know. But she's the one who showed me up here. She said sometimes humans come to the beach, right in front of the ocean. I just hadn't expected to meet one, so thank you!" Rose said, smiling widely. Greg noticed that her teeth were way, way sharper than they should have been.

"Rose?" He nearly wheezed, as she prepared to leave. She raised her eyebrows. "Are you… not… human too?" She took a second to process the question, then pulled back with a smirk.

"Pfft. of course not, Greg Universe. I'm a Mer! What a silly question- you are so much more amusing than I'd thought you'd be! And I'm technically not allowed up here, so I have to go."

Without another word, she submerged herself. Greg sat, shell-shocked, for at least an hour on that beach after she left.

wWw

"What do you mean, you quit?! You can't quit! You're gonna make us both rich!" Marty nearly screeched when he finally turned up the next morning. Well, it was more like the afternoon, and judging by the girl under his arm Greg could gather why.

"Listen, Marty, I know you don't understand-"

"No, I understand perfectly! You blissed out little rock-star kids think you can do whatever you want, all the time. You've gone off the deep end this time, though. I'm not letting you walk away from m- our future!" Marty waved a finger in Greg's face, and he slapped it away. Why hadn't he seen this before? Marty was…

"We're done, Marty. I'm done. You're an awful manager, and if anyone can make it solo, it's me!" Greg asserted, turning his back on Marty and his flavor of the week. Blood boiling, he stormed off, tuning out the frantic calls of his ex-manager.

Greg went and ate a late lunch- some local pizza- then retreated to his van to write. Soon enough, though, the floor was littered with balled up paper, and Greg had to throw in the towel. Skipping out on his sure ticket to landing gigs- his main source of income, yeesh- was an inspiration killer for sure. Suddenly feeling cramped, he pushed open the back doors to let some air in. Was it hot? It felt hot. He scooted forwards so that he was sitting on the edge of the van's bed, feet swinging over the ground. He was in serious trouble.

Why did he even quit, really? Because he finally realized that Marty never treated him well? Probably, but... something else nagged at him, like an itching under his skin. He was pretty impulsive sometimes, but then again, Marty was his one-way shot to stardom. If he didn't want that, then... what did he want...?

Greg was out of the van, and running as soon as he locked the doors behind him.