"Mary – Mary, it's okay!"

"No, it's not!"

"Kiddo, it's-"

"I hit you with the bottle! I'm sorry, Bendy, I didn't mean to!"

"Mary, you didn't hit me – I promise! The bottle didn't even come near me!"

Mary's cries quieted for the time being, though she didn't fully calm down.

She and Bendy were in one of the narrow halls still, her kneeling and Bendy standing. The wrench was lying on the floor near a small puddle of ink, and Mary was shakily trying to wrap a piece of paper around Bendy's shoulder. When she realized that wouldn't work, she settled for dabbing the runny spot like a mother dabs a cotton ball dipped in peroxide over a skinned knee. The paper wasn't quite absorbing the ink, but it was getting rid of the worst and runniest of it. At least a little bit.

But not enough. And Mary had been starting to panic.

Now, she lowered the paper to the floor, watching with wide, frightened eyes as Bendy rubbed his shoulder with one hand, as if to smooth the inky goop over.

"I promise, kiddo," he said again, smiling his usual smile. "The bottle missed me, and I didn't feel anything land on me anyway. This is probably nothing!"

"Bendy, you're melting!" Mary cried, grabbing another piece of paper. "You're melting!"

"I can fix this!"

"Huh?" Mary blinked rapidly.

Bendy was avoiding her eyes, looking instead at his shoulder as best he could with his large head. His hand continued to smooth and rub the ink he was made of, trying to stop himself from melting. "I can fix this, kiddo," he said in a gentler voice. "I'm a toon – I'm made of ink, this can happen sometimes."

"It never happened in the cartoons..."

"That's a cartoon, honey, this is real life," Bendy said. He briefly lifted his hand to study his shoulder, then nodded his satisfaction. "Toons are made o' ink, y'see...Usually we're stable but..."

He frowned, one hand going to the side of his head, as if he had a headache. "But ya found me...in a pipe?"

Mary nodded. "Uh-huh. You were stuck in the pipe by the Ink Machine, remember?"

"Yeah...yeah, I remember that but..." His frown deepened as he fell silent for a few moments. After a long silence, he shook his head, eyes squeezing shut. "But the point is, I was mixed in with all that not-solid ink for a long time. It probably wore me away a little or somethin'. I just need more ink and I'll be right as rain again!"

"Are you sure?" Mary asked, brows furrowing.

"Of course! Now...now c'mon." He held his hand out to her. "Let's just get out of here before anything else happens, 'kay?"

It took them roughly ten minutes to find the exit among the maze of walls. Luckily, the wave of ink never returned, though the pipes running in and out of the walls kept groaning. Mary gripped her wrench tightly, eyeing the ink puddles with apprehension, but no monsters popped out either.

She wondered if maybe they'd all been killed by the acetone.

It was such a tiny bottle, but it did so much damage.

As if sensing her thoughts, Bendy wordlessly squeezed her hand, and pushed open the wooden door.

"Finally," he grumped. "I never knew why Joey made that room so big. Never made any sense."

He and Mary walked further out, Mary kicking the door shut behind her. She looked around while Bendy did; the hall they'd wandered into didn't look much different from the rest of the place so far. It was the same dim lighting, the same wooden walls and floor, same disrepair in some areas, same ink stains...

"I think I recognize this," said Bendy.

"You do?"

"Sure!" He began striding down the hall, arms swinging and head held high. As Mary trotted after him, he continued: "It's where Tim used to work! He used to-"

"Tim?"

"One o' the storyboard crew, kiddo – and one of the best. His office should right arooouuund – aha!" Bendy stopped at a door that didn't look any different from the others, and turned the knob. The room inside looked much like her uncle's did, only this one had towering stacks of paper, a few empty bottles lying around, and a small shelf lined with bacon soup. There was a little space cleared away on that shelf, to make room for a can opened, and – of all things – a large lighter.

Aside from that, it looked just as dismal and unsettling as the rest of the rooms, but Bendy grinned and looked around like he was in a luxury suite. "It's exactly like he left it," he said, a tinge of emotion in his voice.

"Uhm..." Mary looked around again, trying to see what Bendy did. She liked all this paper stacked up, sure, but... Again, it looked like the rest of the place.

She might have been as excited as Bendy was if she'd stumbled upon it earlier, but the past hour or two of being chased, terrified, and kidnapped had soured her excitement a bit.

A sudden noise caught her attention, and she turned to see Bendy removing a can from the shelf, grabbing the can opener and lighter while he was at it. He walked back to the center of the room, heaving a sigh and flopping into a sitting position. "C'mon, kiddo, let's eat."

"Now?"

"Well, why not? You slept, there's probably time for eatin'. Besides, you're a kid. Kids need food and all that." Bendy worked the can opener on the bacon soup, popping the top off. Then he flicked the lighter with one hand and held it under the can. Mary sat down opposite him, watching curiously. What an odd way to cook...

A smile appeared on her face. Actually, this almost felt like camping, now.

Bendy's broad smile slowly faded into something else. Nostalgia, sadness, affection... "Tim used to take all his meals in here, see," he said in a soft voice. "He ate his soup just like this. Said it was easier to stay in the right mood this way. I used to watch him work sometimes... long as I didn't interrupt him, he'd be alright with it."

Mary watched as his expression grew even more thoughtful and melancholic. She scooted closer to him, sitting criss-cross applesauce with her hands on her knees. "Did he like you too?"

Bendy laughed, shaking his head. "Oh, of course he did! Everyone did, kiddo! And it's not like he'd always sit there and just draw while I sat and watched. Sometimes he'd just stop all of a sudden, put down his pen and ink. He'd say somethin' like 'Bendy, ol' boy, my hands are starting to seize up. How about we play a game, to stretch them out a bit?' And we'd do one of my dances, or he'd toss a ball high into the air and try to catch it while I tried to sling-shot it out of the air-"

"You did that in one of the cartoons Uncle Henry showed me!"

"Sure did! 's'where Tim got the idea to make it a game. He boarded that sequence, you know."

His smile faded again as he passed the soup can to her. Mary gingerly took it and began sipping. The flavor was a little too strong, and when she burped she could still taste bacon in her breath, but it filled her tummy and soothed her with its heat. Brief as it was, it was enough to make her forget she was in this creepy place, if only for a second.

As she tilted the can back to drink again, Bendy reached for one of the many glass bottles on the floor. He picked it up and Mary could see the tiniest amount of ink inside...it was the only bottle that had any left. Bendy shook the ink into his palm and started to slather it on his shoulder like sun lotion.

"...I liked your uncle, too, you know."

Mary paused mid-drink.

"He was great. I liked to talk to him the most. He'd let me sit next to him at his desk while he drew. Sometimes he'd deliberately draw me off-model, just to see if I'd notice. 'course I always did," he added with a wry chuckle. "Me, Boris, and Alice would spend a lot of time in his little office...

"Then things started goin' not-so-good." His sad expression began to turn into a scowl. "Joey'd come into his office a lot. He'd send me out when that happened, and they'd argue. About what direction the show should take, about introducin' or droppin' a character, about...about money, and productivity..."

Mary slowly set her can down.

"...the fights got worse after the Ink Machine started bein' built. Joey got angrier and angrier. Henry got more an' more defensive.

One day Joey told Henry he worked for him, and Joey signed the checks, and Joey controlled everything. Henry didn't have any liberties, he said."

A shuddering, long inhale that he didn't fully need. "Henry packed up and quit, that same day. I kept hopin' he'd come back, but..."

The toon stiffened for a second as Mary enveloped him in a hug. She buried her face in his shoulder, holding him tightly, comforting him in the only way she knew how. Bendy squeezed his eyes shut, reaching up to grip the back of her pinafore.

"...I bet that's why he didn't come," Bendy whispered.

"I'm sorry, Bendy..."

Bendy shook his head, giving Mary one brief squeeze before pulling away. "No. No, it's fine. It's past, and all that... Besides, I'll see 'im again, right?" His grin returned. "When we get ya outta here and home!"

Mary nodded, slowly at first, and then more enthusiastic.

Bendy grinned wider and lifted a hand to ruffle her hair. He squashed her bow down in the process, but Mary didn't mind, just laughing and batting at his hand. "So all the more reason for us to keep movin', if you're done eating."

"I'm done." Mary burped a little and stood up, dusting off her pinafore. As she retrieved her wrench, Bendy scrutinized the bottle of ink he'd used, one eye squeezing shut.

"Hmm...there wasn't a lot in this one...I think I'll be needing more that this."

"Where do we get it?"

"Well...If I remember right, there oughta be a supply closet at the other side of this floor. We can head down there and check if there's ink."

As he and Mary made for the door, Bendy glanced around the room again. All of the bottles were empty. Perfectly clean, too.

And all of them were labeled 'ink.'