Sleep

Don't worry. You're raising her right

I just—I worry.
I can't get her anything myself.
Not like you get Callie.

Well, what's family for?
We'll give her what you can't.

Rather than relaxing after their news broadcast, Marie's frowning over her laptop. Callie grabs a lollipop and kicks her feet up on the table, teetering back in the chair. Marie's probably checking up on Gramps again, or using whatever techno-thingy she put in the security system at the power plant to keep an eye on the zapfish. Or maybe she's reviewing the script for their next splatfest announcement.

Callie snorts. Splatfests are surprisingly normal, and they take up so much power, what with going on overnight and lifting the restrictions for just one weekend. Hopefully they'll have Great Zappy back before then.

Callie glances at Marie again, just in time to see her rest her cheek on the laptop keyboard. There it is. Callie's been prone to taking naps in here for forever, and she even has a collection of pillows in the studio, all of them gifts from fans, ranging in size from smaller than her hand to bigger than the table. She's in dozens of memes either resting her head on one or curled up on them like Judd. But Marie thinks it's undignified.

Marie jerks back upright, shakes herself, and starts typing again. Callie's hearts lurch. There have been far too many late nights for both of them lately; at this rate, Mar's gonna make herself sick.

Callie crunches her lollipop, retrieves the closest oversized pillow, and yawns widely, deliberate. Marie copies her yawn. "Pillow time," Callie says, and plops it on the table; it takes up almost all the space.

Marie frowns. "Excuse me."

"Oh, put your laptop on top of it, miss cranky-pants." Callie plops down in her seat and rests her head on the pillow. She hums as she does, soft and slow, just random long, soothing notes, as Marie grumbles and starts typing again.

And stops.

And starts again, but slower, and stops.

Callie raises her head after a good minute or more of no typing to see Marie's got her arms buried under the pillow and her head turned sideways, either completely out or close to it. Callie glances towards the windows, where a number of over-excited inklings are pointing, and raises one finger to her lips.

Marie mutters, "Judd Fuzz," clear as anything, without opening her eyes. Callie sits up straight; it's been a while since Marie last sleeptalked. She's completely out, but she'll get a cramp, sleeping like that.

It takes Callie ten minutes to finagle Marie into a pillow pile on the floor, and Marie rolls over almost immediately, hugs a spare pillow, and mutters, "Fuzzy Judd Ink." Callie fights back a laugh. Several of their fans have their phones out, no doubt recording video as Callie retrieves Marie's phone (she's made ten calls to Gramps today, she knows those two are close but that's silly) and turns both their phones on silent.

"Octarian voodoo," Marie mutters then. "Tanks!"

Callie grins. Marie must be tired. "Tanks?"

"Fuzzy tanks," Marie clarifies.

Callie shakes her head and grabs Marie's laptop. It looks like Marie was researching ways to keep zapfish safe and healthy; Callie opens a new document and starts taking notes. That way, she won't be too mad at Callie when she wakes up.

"Fuzzy fuzz fuzz."

Though maybe Callie shouldn't tease Marie about sleep talking, this time.