By the time Three and Eight arrived at Four's apartment, the Squid Sisters were already there, sitting on their phones at the table. They could hear the clattering of pots and pans coming from the other room.

"Three! Eight!" Four called from the kitchen as they shut the door. "What's crackalackin'?"

"Never say that to me ever again," Three said.

"Thanks so much for inviting us over!" Eight chirped. "What's the occasion?"

"I dunno," Four said, briefly showing up in the doorframe to the kitchen. She brandished an oven mitt on one hand, and a kitchen knife in the other. "It's just been a while since we all hung out, and I was bored of my other friends. So now we're having a Squidbeak Splatoon Hang Out Sesh."

"Or SSHOS for short," Callie added.

Marie rolled her eyes. "I told you that's not going to stick."

"Buzzkill."

"Getting bored of your other friends, huh?" Three asked. Normally, she wouldn't pry into what was so close to Four's personal life, but she was really hoping she could avoid being the topic of conversation tonight. "By that do you mean the pretentious pro-turfers or the pretentious art students?"

"Three, they're the same," Marie said. "Four's whole team went to Inkblot."

"Really?" Three asked, eyes wide. "Wow, your team must be shit!"

"I know, right?" Marie agreed. "I thought she was joking when she first told me."

"You come into my house," Four said. "I am cooking you people dinner. Show a little respect!"

"Right. I'm very sorry, Four, for insulting your pretentious art student teammates who are probably very bad at turfing."

"Apology accepted," Four said. "Thank you for being so sensitive. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to make sure these dinner rolls don't burn."

Four retreated back into the kitchen, so Three and Eight took their seats. Before too long, food was on the table, and they were all eating away.

"…And so it turns out that the turntable is actually linked to the screen," Marie said. "Which is really fucking dumb if you ask me. Like, at that point, you're almost trying to make it obnoxious to handle."

Callie let out a hum. "I don't know. Are you sure it isn't a you problem? I mean, Marina seems to have no trouble with it."

"Yeah, Marie," Four said. "Marina's never caused the news to go offline for five minutes because she fucked up the turntable."

"I'd like to see you shitheads try it sometime," Marie snapped. "It's harder than it looks. Anyway, what's up with you guys?" She gestured to Three and Eight. "Rooming going well?"

"Yep," Three said.

"It's fun!" Eight added.

"God, I can't imagine sharing an apartment with someone," Four said, shivering. "You'd have to work out, like, showering arrangements and stuff, right? What a nightmare."

"We manage," Three said.

"Mmhmm, mmhmm," Callie said, nodding her head and swallowing her food. "So, Eight, tell me; what's Three's apartment like?"

Eight briefly shot a glance at Three. "Um, well. It's… cozy. The walls are white. She has a couch."

"Does she own soap? Eight, this is important."

"Okay, that's enough personal questions," Three said, waving an arm. "No more interrogating."

Four snickered like the goblin that she was. "Sounds like someone doesn't own soap."

Three rolled her eyes. "I own soap, moron. Now stop intentionally trying to breach my privacy through Eight."

"Three you are literally in my apartment right now. I don't think this counts as breaching your privacy."

"God, next you're going to be asking me my favorite color or some shit."

"You're being slightly more cagey than normal," Marie observed. "What's up?"

"None of your business," Three said.

Marie smirked that smirk of hers. "Wait, lemme guess: you and Eight got it on."

Three blushed neon orange and sat up so quickly her chair toppled over, then slammed her hands against the table. "How the fuck did you know that, Marie?!"

Callie, Marie, and Four froze. Eight slammed her head onto the table.

"Um," Four said after a beat, "what?"

"Holy shit, Three," Marie said, clearly struggling not to laugh. "I was just teasing. But I'm glad my gift was appropriate."

"Wow," Callie murmured, wide-eyed. "First night? That's… wow."

Three closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Fuck her entire life.

"Well, hey," Marie said. "Congratulations you two. How was it?"

"Marie!" Callie chided.

"It was really good," Eight mumbled into the table.

"So, stop me if I'm breaching your privacy," Four said, "but I really need to know: who's the top?"

Three grit her teeth. "Four, I swear to god, when I'm finished with you, there will be nothing left."

"Well, after a threat like that, my money's on Three," Callie said. "Plus, have you seen her in battle?"

That got Eight's face off the table. She looked at Callie and gave a single, piecing laugh. "HA! In her dreams, maybe."

Marie nearly spit out drink as she started dying of laughter.

"I want to fucking die," Three groaned, slumping forward onto the table.

"Oh my god this is the best day of my life," Four said. "Man, I bet Three's into, like, inkplay or some shit."

"I don't even know what the fuck that is," Three said.

Marie laughed. The bitch fucking chortled. "Yeah, right. Don't play dumb."

"I seriously don't know what inkplay is."

Callie gave her cousin a strange look. "Why do you know what it is?"

"Unimportant. But just so you know, it totally seems like it'd be Three's kind of thing."

"I'm so fucking done," Three said. She got up, marched over to her backpack, and grabbed her inktank. "See y'all fuckers later."

"Three? What are you doing?" Callie asked.

Three didn't answer. She strapped on her inktank, briefly shifted her color to blue, materialized a splat bomb, and dropped it at her feet.

"Aw, Three!" Four protested. "You're gonna get ink all over my apartment!"

"It's what you deserve," Three said, shifting back to orange. "Sayonara, motherfuckers. Three out."

She flipped them off with both hands as the bomb went off, killing her instantly.

"She is so overdramatic," Four said, staring at where blue ink covered the corner of her dining room.

"Guys, I think we were a little hard on her," Callie said. "She's probably really self conscious about all this already."

"You sure it's not just Three being Three?" Marie asked, raising an eyebrow.

"She literally just blew herself up to escape a social situation. That's extreme, even for her."

"Nah, she does this all the time," Four said with a wave of her hand. "Once I told her that rocky road is the best ice cream flavor—which it is, by the way—and she jumped into a fountain. She was my ride, too! I had to go all the way over to the public spawns and convince her to drive me back here."

"Mikero!" Eight said suddenly, jumping out of her chair. "She was my ride!"

"She'll probably come back here, then," Four assured. "Trust me. She's fine."

"Mikero?" Marie repeated. "That's not one I know."

Callie shot Marie a look that clearly communicated 'Why do you know any Octarian swears at all?' but Marie ignored her.

Eight brought a finger to her chin. "Um, it doesn't have a direct translation, but we use it kind of like you guys use 'motherfucker,' I think? Literally, it's a derogatory term for someone who receives anal penetration."

"Lovely," Callie said.

"So, just to come full circle," Four began, "would you describe Three as a mikero?"

Eight hit her.

After telling the spawn operators the reason why she died ("I was in the middle of an awkward conversation and I couldn't think of a better way to leave") and paying the resultant fine for abusing her functional immortality, Three quickly made her way back to Four's apartment through the use of several mildly illegal superjumps.

She opened up the apartment door without preamble, interrupting something that Callie was saying about alternative music or some shit.

"Oh, hey, Three," Marie said. "Eight was just in the middle of explaining what you guys did last night in explicit detail."

"Marie, stop," Callie said.

"It's cool," Three said with a shrug. "I did a lot of thinking after my brief run-in with death, and I realized that all of you are just compensating for the fact that none of you have gotten laid in recent memory. If you need more details so that you can have a more complete mental picture of the fantastic sex that you're not having, please, just ask."

"Well fuck," Four said.

"See? She's fine. She knows how to hit back," Marie said. "Anyway, we should really get going."

Callie checked her watch. "Oh, shoot, yeah. Alright, well, thanks for dinner, Four! We'll see you all later!"

"Bye!" Eight called.

"Have fun you two!" Three shouted at them. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do!"

"Ew! Gross, Three!" Callie called back before shutting Four's apartment door.

"Well," Four said. "This has been an eventful night."

"It always seems to be," Three observed. "I can probably count on one hand the number of times four or more of us have been in the same place without some sort of chaos breaking loose."

Four nodded sagely in agreement.

"Oh, uh, Four," Eight asked. "Can I ask you something?"

Four turned. "Uh, yeah, go for it."

"What's ink play?"

Four blinked. "Sorry?"

"You mentioned it earlier. Some sort of sex thing, right?"

"…Yes," Four said slowly. "Why…?"

"Well it sounded interesting."

Three was instantly sent into a violent coughing fit.

"Um, you know what?" Four said, her cheeks growing steadily yellower. "How about you look that one up yourself."

"I think we should probably go now," Three hacked out, desperation lacing her voice.

Eight replied in acknowledgement, and they gathered their things before making their way to the door.

"Bye, Four!" Eight said.

"Yeah. Thanks for having us or whatever," Three said.

Four laughed. "You're welcome, Three. Sounds like you're in for an interesting couple weeks, huh?"

"Hey how about you shut the fuck up."

"See you later!" Four closed the door in her face.

Three sighed. "I hate our friends."

"No, you don't," Eight said, weaving her fingers into Three's.

"No, I don't," she admitted.

The next couple weeks passed in a blissful wave for Eight. The day after the party at Four's place was a Monday, so starting then, Three had to go in for work each day. Eight would amuse herself like she normally did when Pearl and Marina weren't around—she browsed the internet, played video games, watched TV, et cetera. Then Three would get home, and unless they had any errands to run, they usually did those exact same things except now it was much more fun because Three was there.

They did some turfing, too, every so often, of course. Eight had finally worked her way up into S rank in most of the modes after a frankly absurdly long winning streak, so the games were at least somewhat competitive now. Even still, between herself and Three, it wasn't much of a contest most of the time. Usually, they'd just compete with each other to see who could get the most splats while their teammates held the objective.

Her favorite mode, she supposed, was Clam Blitz, which had surprised her. When Three had first explained the rules to her, Eight had told her that it was 'the stupidest way to gauge combat merit she had heard of' and a 'complete disgrace to the tradition of the turf war,' and she still stood by those points, but it was really satisfying to throw those clams into that basket. She suspected it was something about the little ding that the basket made each time the sensor detected that you'd scored. Also, it was Three's worst game mode, which meant Eight could usually do better than her, which was a nice change of pace.

"I don't understand how we always end up going turfing on Clam Blitz rotations," Three grumbled as she unlocked their apartment door. They'd just gotten back from the Square after a satisfying few rounds of battling. "It seems like it's almost always that or Rainmaker, which is hardly better."

"I think you're just mad that you didn't score any clams that last game," Eight said.

"I was fucking robbed by that roller asshole," Three insisted. She finally managed to open the door, and she stalked into the apartment, tossing her hero shot onto a pile of junk in the corner of the living room. Eight set her N-Zap on the coffee table; she'd only recently gotten to the level required to use it, and she was liking it okay so far. She only wished the special were something better than Ink Armor; Sheldon talked a big game about its various uses, but it just seemed kinda bad.

As Three reheated some leftover pizza in the microwave, Eight poured two glasses of water and placed them at the table. Just as she sat down, her phone buzzed from within her pocket: it was the group chat she had with Pearl and Marina.

Marina: Hey, Eight! Hope you're doing alright!

Marina: We just finished up our concert here in Calamari County. We're flying back to Inkopolis tomorrow!

Eight: !

Eight: I can't wait to see you guys again!

Pearl: Hell yeah baby

Pearl: Yo make sure you guys all come to our final concert

Pearl: Starfish Mainstage at Eight!

Marina: We insisted on that start time… ;)

Eight: Yeah of course we're going!

Eight: Oh but Three says she's not paying for her ticket.

Pearl: Cheapskate

Pearl: Well fine whatever. Basically all our shows sold out so I SUPPOSE we can spare a few free seats for you guys, but she owes me one

Marina: We already have seats reserved for all of you. Pearl's just being difficult.

Eight: Haha okay well I'll see you there!

Eight: 3

Marina: 3

Pearl: B)

Marina: Pearl!

Pearl: Ugh fine

Pearl: 3

Pearl: The levels I stoop to for you people

Eight giggled to herself and slipped her phone back into her pocket just as Three sat down across from her, sliding Eight a plate. (Pizza, she had explained earlier, only required a plate if you were eating more than one slice at a time, since it took two hands to eat effectively.) "Was that your moms?"

Eight opened her mouth to protest, but decided that was a lost cause, and just said, "Yeah." Three smirked at her; Eight ignored it. "They're flying back tomorrow to give their last concert. Apparently they already reserved seats for us."

"Oh," Three said. "Cool. Less hassle for me. I mean, have you seen those ticket prices?"

"They are pretty popular," Eight said.

"Yeah, but I haven't seen prices that high since the Squid Sisters' concert I went to, like, five years ago."

"You also never go to concerts," Eight reminded her.

"Whatever." Three shoved half a slice of pizza into her mouth all at once and ate it with animalistic efficiency. "So, are you gonna be moving back in with them after tomorrow, then?"

Oh. She hadn't thought about that. "I… guess so."

"You seem disappointed," Three said, smiling slightly.

Eight sighed. "Yeah, I don't know, it's just been… a lot of fun living with you and stuff. Not that I don't love them, but…"

"Nah, I get it," Three said. "Don't worry, I can, like, sneak into your house in the middle of the night, and we can see if we're able to bang each other without waking Pearl and Marina."

"Three!" Eight could feel the ink rushing to her face.

Three shrugged. "I mean, it's a little cliche, sure, but you missed out on your rebellious teen years, so we gotta make up for lost ground."

"What if they catch us?"

"Isn't that part of the thrill?"

"Ah! No!" Eight covered her face up with her hands and violently shook her head, trying to stop her imagination. Though to be fair it did seem kind of thrilling BUT NOT IN A SEXY WAY. NO. IN A BAD WAY. IN A VERY BAD WAY. "You're the worst, Three!"

"What?" she asked innocently. "You were so gung ho about telling them all about it after the first time. This would just be telling them in a more interesting way!"

Eight groaned and dragged her hands down her face. "No. Absolutely not." She let Three laugh a little at her expense (jerk!) before going on. "But it's not just that. Obviously. I mean, that's a part of it, but it's… I don't know. I like seeing you in the morning every day. Stuff like that."

Three was quiet for a moment. "Yeah. Me too." She sighed. "Look, we don't have to talk about this now. Let's just enjoy our time today and tomorrow, and then go suffer through Pearl's rapping for an hour. Then maybe we'll talk about it."

Eight nodded. That sounded good. "Hey, uh, Three. I was thinking, maybe, you want to enjoy our time together tonight, too?"

Three looked confused for a half a second before her eyebrows shot up and she let out a soft, "Oh! Yeah. Yes. Sure. Let me finish my pizza first though, I'm really hungry."

Eight giggled. "Right, of course."