Three tapped her fingers against the steering wheel impatiently, looking out the window at Pearl and Marina's house. What was taking her so long? Was she having second thoughts? No, stop that, it's fine. She's probably just… doing something. Yeah.
God. Three hated being alone with her thoughts.
After a couple more minutes of steering-wheel-tapping, Three saw the front door open out of the corner of her eye, and her head snapped around to look. Eight was stepping out of the door frame when she caught Three's gaze. Immediately, her face lit up in a smile, and she began jogging towards Three's car. She was just. So darn cute. It wasn't fair.
"Hi Three!" Eight exclaimed, flinging open the passenger door.
Three looked her up and down as she climbed into the car. "Wow, Eight, you look… really nice."
It was true. She was wearing what Three presumed was one of Marina's leather jackets over a simple but elegant crop top, a loose black knee-length skirt, and some expensive-looking tennis shoes that Pearl had probably bought her.
"Thanks!" Eight smiled. "So do you!"
Three looked down at her hoodie, t-shirt, and shorts, none of which had been washed in like a week. "…Thanks."
"So what are we doing?"
"Man, I dunno," Three said, shifting into drive and taking off down the road. "I don't normally, like. Do stuff with people? So I'm just gonna wing it I guess."
Eight cocked her head. "So… where are you driving to, then?"
Three hummed. She should probably decide on that soon, yeah. "Um. The square, I guess? Are you hungry now, or do you want to get lunch later?"
"Oh, I don't really have a preference," Eight said, visibly salivating.
Three narrowed her eyes. "You're drooling."
She blushed. "This always happens when someone mentions Inkling food around me, don't worry about it."
"Jeez, what were the Octarians feeding you?"
"Nutrition blocks."
"Excuse me?" Three shot Eight a look. "What the fuck is a nutrition block?"
"It's… how would you understand…" Eight paused, tapping a finger against her chin. "You know those granola bars you have up here?"
"Yes, I hate them," Three said.
"Right, so imagine a granola bar but without any flavor and more… sawdusty? They're really dry, taste bland, but you only need to eat like three a day in order to survive, so they're very efficient."
Three felt her face contort. That was the most appalling thing she'd ever heard. "What—what the fuck. I have so many problems with that. Weren't you hungry all the time? How did you fight on an empty stomach like that?"
"Well, they said it was motivation. If we didn't do well, we weren't able to eat, so—"
"What the FUCK," Three practically screamed, gripping the steering wheel so hard she thought she might dent it. "Okay, that's it, I'm gonna take you to the best goddamn restaurant I know right this instant."
Eight waved her hands in front of her. "No no no, it's okay! I don't want you spending your money on some fancy restaurant just because—"
"Oh, yeah, no, you're paying for yourself, your moms are rich."
"They're not my moms."
"We both know that's a lie."
Eight huffed and crossed her arms, and Three couldn't help but giggle at her a little.
Instantly, Eight's head whipped around. "Did you just giggle?"
Three immediately reset to her resting bitch face. "No."
"Oh my god you totally did!"
"Shut up."
"You have a really cute giggle," Eight said, smiling warmly.
Three felt her face warm. "Shut up. No I don't."
"Yeah ya do," Eight said, laying her head on Three's shoulder. Her tentacles brushed against Three's cheek, cool and smooth.
"Y-yeah? Well, you have a cute… face," Three said, and then immediately wanted to die.
"Aw, thanks, Three! You have a cute face too."
Three swerved a hard right and pulled into a parking lot. "Oh, look, we're here. Guess this conversation's gonna have to stop. Shame." She parked as quickly as possible, and got out of the car so fast she nearly ripped her seat belt in half. She pulled her hoodie up to her burning face and looked away from Eight, who was still cracking up inside the car.
She had no right to be this cute. There was like a fifty percent chance this date was gonna kill her.
A pair of binoculars peeked out over the roof of a nearby van. "There they are."
Another voice perked up, suddenly interested. "Where are they going?"
"Uh, looks like they're heading into Shellfish Indulgence."
A laugh rang softly, slightly unhinged. "Perfect! Right where we want them. Let's move out."
The binoculars came down. "No, let's give it a minute. No need to be suspicious."
Eight's eyes greedily scanned her menu, the smooth music that played throughout the restaurant sinking into her skull. "I have no idea what any of this means but it all sounds so good."
"It is," Three assured, across from her. "I mean, I don't exactly eat out often, but I've been here a few times, and it's the best food I've ever had. Well, aside from Crusty Sean's stuff, but he only serves two different kinds of foods for whatever fucked-up reason, so that gets pretty repetitive."
"How do you even decide what to get?" Eight asked. There were so many options! And they were all so complicated! Honestly, a lot of Inkling culture seemed to follow those themes.
"Just pick something that sounds good," Three said, which wasn't helpful in the least.
"Hmm." She read through the lunch menu for the sixth time: specialty three-cheese pizza, five-star lasagna platter, sauteed fish fillets—wait. "You eat fish? But don't they—"
"Not the ones who like walk and stuff," Three said quickly. "We eat the small dumb ones that are still aquatic."
Eight frowned. "That's still a bit… weird, though, right?"
"Eh." Three shrugged. "Not really. I mean, ancient squids and octopi were actually carnivorous, and they almost exclusively ate other sea life. We stayed that way for centuries before evolution and global climate change prompted some evolutionary…"
Eight's attention was caught by two strangely-dressed figures entering the restaurant. (Not that Three's monologue wasn't interesting! It was just that it was, uh… Actually, no, yeah, that was it.) They were wearing long, nondescript trench coats, hats, and sunglasses. Eight narrowed her eyes. This was weird. Was this normal for Inkling fashion? Honestly, it was very possible, they had some really strange practices when it came to clothing. Marina had tried to give her a whole lesson on it, but Eight hadn't been able to follow. She should probably just ask Three.
"…But of course once we started transitioning to omnivorism, our diets changed significantly, so—and this part is just a theory, but still—it's believed that it was actually the salmonids who first started…"
Well that wasn't happening any time soon. For someone who 'hates nerds' Three seemed to know an awful lot about obscure academic subjects. Eight looked back up at the suspicious figures, but they were gone. She frowned.
"…and since we can't really touch water, we actually buy most of our commercial fish from other species, many of which are fish themselves." Three paused. "Is something wrong?"
"No, it's—it's nothing. Why do you know so much about the historical dietary habits of cephalopods?"
Three shrugged. "Oh, you know. You just kind of pick stuff up over the years."
Well that was a vague answer. "So what are you ordering?"
Three looked down at her menu. "I dunno. Maybe the fucking, uh. Pizza? I've never gotten their pizza before. I don't think I've ever had pizza at like a sit down restaurant at all, actually. I wonder what it's like."
"We'll both be experiencing something new, then," Eight said.
Three smiled, barely. "Yeah. Guess so."
Just then, the waiter arrived. He was an Inkling, maybe a few years older than Three, and he was carrying a vase of flowers, which he set down between the two of them. "Flowers for the young couple, as requested. May I take your orders?"
"What the hell?" Three muttered, leaning forward to look at the flowers. "We didn't request anything. And how did you know we're together?"
The waiter just shrugged. Three narrowed her eyes.
Eight, meanwhile, was staring in awe at the flowers. "Oh my god, Three, look how pretty they are! We didn't have any plants like these back in the Domes. And they smell so good!"
"Huh? I mean, yeah, I guess they do." Three briefly made eye contact with Eight, then shifted her gaze back to the flowers. "There's, uh. There are people whose whole job is to arrange flowers. I think it's like an art to them."
"Look!" Eight plucked an orange flower from the bouquet. "This one's a perfect match for your natural ink color!" She leaned across the table, holding it up against Three's tentacles.
"Uh, yeah, I think that one's a daisy," Three mumbled.
Giggling to herself, Eight leaned in just a bit further, her stomach pressing into the table edge, and tucked the stem of the flower behind Three's ear. Three just looked at her, a variety of conflicting emotions flashing across her steadily reddening face, before clearing her throat and turning to the waiter, who was watching them impassively. "I'll, uh, have the pizza," she said.
The waiter nodded, then turned to Eight. "And for you, miss?"
"Oh! Um, I'll try the tuna, I think?"
The waiter uttered a small affirmation, then took their menus and left.
"I thought you said the fish freaked you out," Three said after he'd vanished into the back of the restaurant.
"Well, it's good to broaden your horizons, right?"
"Fair enough," Three said. They sat there in silence for a little while, Eight admiring the strange paintings around the restaurant, and Three absentmindedly fidgeting with the flower behind her ear as she looked around.
"I like the flower," Eight said, after a minute. "It's cute."
"Nah, it's metal as fuck," Three proclaimed, crossing her arms. "I rock this look. My enemies will see me and go, 'man, there's a bitch you don't wanna mess with.' "
"You're right, I'm sorry. It's very intimidating and not cute at all."
"There you go. That's better."
Eight laughed, then stopped. There were those trench coat people again, walking over from the hall to the bathrooms and sitting down in a booth on the other side of the restaurant.
"What are you looking at?" Three turned to look over her shoulder, immediately spotting the two figures. "Oh. Yeah, that's, uh. That's unsettling."
"I take it that's not just some weird Inkling fashion trend?" Eight asked.
"Well, I mean, who the fuck knows, really," Three said. "But I don't think so. Four's really into all of that stuff—because she's a pretentious little shit, you know?—and she definitely lacks the self respect required to know not to wear that in public, but I haven't seen her in any trench coats lately. Bottom line is that those guys are suspicious as hell."
"They're not even eating," Eight noted. "They're just… wandering around every so often."
"Where were they wandering around to?"
"Down towards the bathrooms."
"Isn't there a back entrance to the staff room there?"
Eight shrugged. She'd barely been in this restaurant half an hour by now.
"Hmm. Well." Three turned back around. "I'm not too worried. It's not like anything weird's been really happening. I mean, except for—"
She was interrupted by the waiter returning, handing them their dishes. Eight looked down at the grilled tuna; holy cow, that smelled really good.
"And some romantic candles to enhance the mood," the waiter said, placing down some miniature candles on either side of the table.
Eight and Three exchanged a look. Three turned to the waiter. "Um. Why?"
"To enhance the mood. I thought I already said that."
"Well, yeah, but—"
"Enjoy your food! Tell me if you need anything!"
Before either of them could get another word in, the waiter spun on his heel and hurried back to the kitchen, only stopping to give the trench-coat-people a quick glance. From where they were seated, it was hard to tell if it was a conspiratorial glance, or just a confused one.
Eight raised an eyebrow. "So that was… what was that?"
Three looked tired. "I've got a theory. But for now, I say we just try to enjoy our food while we can."
Hmm. That was weirdly ominous. But, who cares, because FOOD! Eight carefully took her first bite, and then immediately followed it up with her second, and third, and fourth, and she was quickly losing count. This was so good. Oh my god. How had she never had fish before? Why was it so heavenly? Was it because it was like the natural diet for octopi, or whatever Three had been going on about?
She only paused once she heard a sharp laughter coming from the other side of the table. She looked up at Three, who had only eaten like a single slice of pizza. What a slow eater.
"What's so funny?"
"Nothing, it's just…" Three made that cute giggle again. "You are hands down the messiest eater I've ever seen."
Eight blushed, looking down at herself. Oh. Yeah. She saw what Three was getting at. She was getting sauce all over—"Marina's jacket!" Eight yelped, reaching over and yanking a fistful of napkins from the napkin dispenser.
"Oh no oh no oh no!" Eight whined, wiping furiously at herself.
Three managed to stifle her laughter long enough to ask, "Do you need help, or…?"
"No, I think I've got it. But thanks." She examined the jacket closely: the spot wasn't very noticeable anymore, thank god. She let out a sigh of relief. "That was almost really bad."
Three rolled her eyes. "Oh, come on. Marina's not gonna get mad at you for getting one of her four hundred leather jackets a bit dirty. Actually, I'm pretty sure Marina is physically incapable at getting mad at you for, like, anything."
"I guess you're right," Eight admitted. "But it'd be really embarrassing. I mean, I asked her for help cause I wanted to look nice, and she was so kind to give me her jacket and all."
"Hey, Eight," Three interjected. "You know you don't have to, like, dress up for me, or anything, right?"
"But isn't that what you're supposed to do on dates? Pearl said that's like a big part of it."
"Maybe for some people," Three said with a wave of her hand. "I don't really give a shit. I mean, I think you look great, but if you'd shown up in your pajamas I would've also thought you look great. Just wear whatever makes you happy, you know?"
Eight smiled. "That's… I think I like that better than what Pearl was talking about. She was going on about brands, and how certain clothes accentuate certain features, and something about exactly how much skin you want to reveal when, and none of it made a whole lot of sense."
"Yeah all of that's bullshit. Just do whatever the fuck you want and own it."
"Also, question, what are pajamas?"
"The…" Three gave her a look. "The clothes you go to sleep in."
Eight put a finger to her chin. "Interesting. When Pearl and Marina are getting ready to go to bed, they're usually just wearing—"
"Imma stop you right there," Three said, putting up a hand. "Don't need to think about that."
Eight wrinkled her brow. "I don't—"
"MMM!" Three said, taking another bite of her pizza. "Good food here, huh, Eight?"
Eight decided to just drop it, and the two of them ate in relative silence for the next few minutes.
That is, until the music started.
"Is it me, or did they just pump up the music?" Three asked.
Eight paused her eating and focused. Sure enough, the song had changed from the smooth-listening it had been all of lunch. It was still slow, but it was less jazzy, with fuller strings and simpler percussion. It reminded her of those bad romance movies Pearl and Marina liked to watch after they drank that disgusting poison they referred to as 'alcohol.'
"Oh ho, resident lunch-goes!" came a voice over some speakers hidden in the ceiling. "Hear that? Love is in the air!"
"Why the hell does a restaurant have a speaker system like this?" Three asked. Eight didn't know how to answer, so she just kept dumbly looking up at where the voice was coming from.
"It's that time again—Love Lunch Thursday! Which happy couple will be put on the spot to show their love today? Who knows! How exciting!"
"Do you know what's going on?" Eight asked.
"No fucking clue," Three answered, looking more concerned by the second. "I've never heard of 'Love Lunch Thursday' in my life."
Just as she finished her sentence, all the lights in the restaurant went out, causing a lot of confused yelps from the patrons. And then, just as suddenly, a bright spotlight shone down right at their table.
Eight's eyes went wide, and she tensed, pressing her back up against the wall. The lights bore into her eyes, oppressive and unyielding, and there was blackness everywhere else. It almost felt like she was back underground. She didn't like it. She hated it. "Three? What's happening?"
"Why the hell does a restaurant have spotlights?" Three seethed, her eyes darting around frantically. Her hands gripped the table and the back of the booth, ready to burst in any direction at the first sign of trouble.
"Wow! And you're our lucky couple for the night! How romantic! Now, show us all how much you care for each other!"
Eight's breaths were coming fast and shallow. "Three? What do we do?"
"Don't worry, I got this." She stood up, and Eight's breathing paused.
What was she going to do? Was she really going to 'show how much she cared' for Eight? Was she going to kiss her or something?! She couldn't handle that, not in front of this many people!
She watched, restless, as Three inhaled deeply and threw back her head. There was a moment of chilling stillness, with only the music playing in the background; and then Three screamed.
"GGGRRRRAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!"
It wasn't just your run-of-the-mill average scream, either. It was dissonant, and grated on your bones. It shook you to your core, and it made you want to cover your ears, but it was also somehow beautiful—nobody could produce a scream this gut-wrenching, this disconcerting, this barbaric, without it being intentionally constructed as such. And that, in its own, twisted way, made it something of an art, one from which you would be rude to shy away.
It was still awful to hear though. Soon enough, the music cut out and the lights came back on. Three was still screaming, though. She had an impressive lung capacity.
"Um. Ma'am? Please stop, Ma'am."
"HRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAGHHHHHHHH!"
"Please stop screaming. We're going to have to ask you to leave if you don't stop."
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaaaaaaah…" Eventually, Three trailed off and sat back down, calmly returning to her pizza.
Once the rest of the restaurant stopped staring (it took a couple minutes), Eight asked, very quietly: "Can we… go?"
Three immediately nodded. "Yeah. I was gonna wait until there was less attention on us, but I don't think anyone's gonna say anything. Let's ditch this place."
Three got up from the table and started walking to the door, Eight right behind her, but they were stopped by their waiter, who looked supremely uncomfortable. "Um… Are you, uh…"
Three fished a ten dollar bill out of her pocket. "Here's a tip. I know you were just following directions, but it was still a dick move. We're not paying for the food. If your manager has a problem with that tell him that I challenge him to settle the dispute through a turf war, and that yes that is something you can still legally do in Inkopolis. Also tell him not to fuck with me if he wants to keep his dignity and/or all of his limbs." She then turned to the two trench-coated-figures, who were attempting to sneak out unnoticed. "You two. Outside. Now."
Thirty seconds later, Callie and Marie were profusely apologizing to the both of them.
"Jeez, oh my god, we are so sorry!" Callie said, the words tumbling messily from her mouth. "It—it just started with the flowers, but then Eight put that daisy in your hair and oh my god it was so adorable! I may have gotten a bit carried away, I'm really sorry!"
"And that whole love lunch crap was just a joke, we didn't think they'd actually go through with it," Marie said. "I mean, what, do people really just do everything pop stars tell them to do?"
"Yes," Three said. "And none of that is a good excuse!"
Marie sighed. "I know. We fucked up. We're really sorry."
"We just wanted to make your date super special!" Callie exclaimed.
"Don't lie to me," Three said, the anger evident on her face. "You wanted to tease me. And that's cool, whatever, we have that kind of relationship. I don't care. But you almost gave Eight a fucking panic attack. That isn't fucking okay."
Callie looked supremely guilty. "No. You're right." She turned to Eight. "We're sorry we ruined your date, Eight."
"Yeah," Marie said. "Seriously not cool of us. If there's anything you want us to do to make up for it, then just say the word."
Eight swallowed. "It's alright. I forgive you."
The Squid Sisters smiled, relieved; but Eight wasn't done.
"I just have one more thing I'd like to say."
"Of course!" Callie said. "Go for it."
Eight took a deep breath, then called out at the top of her lungs. "OH MY GOD! CALLIE AND MARIE FROM THE SQUID SISTERS?!"
Every head in the square turned their way, and the Squid Sisters' faces blanched with fear.
"I DIDN'T KNOW YOU WERE SIGNING AUTOGRAPHS RIGHT NOW!"
Marie slumped to her knees, her face frozen with existential dread. "Well played, Eight. Well played."
"This is where I die," Callie mumbled, holding her head in her hands, a crazed look on her face. "And I only have myself to blame."
Next to her, Three was dying with laughter. "AHHAHAAHHAHAHAH! EIGHT! Oh my god, I could kiss you! That was great!"
Eight blushed. "Um, I could kiss you too, if you want. Just saying."
"Let's get back to the car first," Three said. "This place is about to become a warzone."