The big day, its aftermath, and a well-deserved rest.
I'm baaack, I wonder if anyone missed meeeeee~ I swear I didn't expect shenanigans to fill up three whole chapters before we got to the supposed main event but Muffet and co have too many plans for me to control them ohoho :D
The music in Muffet's act is the instrumental version of Air Man Ga Taoseni/I Can't Defeat Airman.
Muffet fiddled with the frills on the hem of her dress. The wide-brimmed hat she wore felt extra heavy; too much lace, perhaps, or maybe the papier mache spiders (black, white, and red) were a bit much. Papyrus had wondered aloud about whether the black web patterns covering her dress should be sparkly and she'd dismissed it, as Mr. Tuffet would take care of the glitter quite handily, but now she thought that had been the wrong decision. And what about the shade of purple she'd chosen, grape? Would it come across correctly in the stage lights? And perhaps there were too many layers. Yes, they'd look lovely as she spun and flipped through the air, but the drag…
No, no, no. This was all last minute jitters. Everything, especially her outfit, had been planned to play to her strengths and diminish her weaknesses. She could do this. She would! Pacing, she tried to puzzle out what the current act was from the sounds and rumbling coming through the ceiling— er, floor. No explosions, which boded well; redundancy wouldn't be an issue. Though it was only day one of three. Oh, why had she chosen the first day to perform?
Mr. Tuffet beeped, and she stopped pacing to look at him. The cannon, placed next to Mr. Tuffet on the platform, had been enchanted to glow softly in shifting colors, being quite glittery enough but still needing some je ne sais quoi in Muffet's eyes. That glow made her pet look even more resplendent than he already was in his sequined blue and white tuxedo (with a spider-shaped bowtie) and matching giant top hat. He held a Tuffet-sized enormous cigar in his mouth, which he gently gnawed on occasionally; it too was covered in glitter, big enough for Muffet to perch on and nearly as long as she was tall.
"You're right, ma coeur. I'm overthinking."
He bugled at her, shuffling closer. Then he opened his mouth (the cigar thudded to the floor) and aimed a tongue swipe at her.
Muffet sidestepped this easily, familiar with his tells. Taking one of his legs with a dainty one-handed grip, she then threw him across the under-stage room without breaking a sweat. "Really, dearie," she said with a giggle as she skipped past the shell-shocked deer girl to reach Mr. Tuffet, dragging his cigar behind her. She dusted off his top hat as he stood and shook off a few loose boards. "I know you're eager to begin, but you ought to save that for when we're on stage."
He honked, then took his cigar back.
Through the small speakers, then, came Mettaton's voice. "And now, with the utmost pleasure, I shall introduce our next contestant! Please, everyone, give a warm welcome to Ebott Town's very own Princess of Spiders… Muffet!"
Even from underneath the stage, the crowd seemed loud. Knowing that she would soon face an adoring audience gave her courage. She tapped at her earpiece, adjusted her head mic, smoothed her ruffles. "I can do this," she murmured, clambering onto Mr. Tuffet's cigar and seating herself in an elegant pose. "We can do this." She signalled the (now-recovered) young deer girl— Noelle, her name was— to pull the lever, gave Mr. Tuffet a pat, and checked her hair ties one last time. Mettaton is watching. Her soul felt like it was fluttering, trying to remind her who she was here for; she almost forgot to light Mr. Tuffet's cigar with the gargantuan match Noelle fumbled to her.
The piped-in fanfare sounded precisely as the floor opened, and Mr. Tuffet's glitter-doused candle was the first thing to emerge. A hush fell over the stands as he came into view, the glowing cannon just enough to reveal his imposing silhouette. Then the floodlights came on, the crowd gasped as one, and the applause was truly thunderous. A set of small neon signs spelling her name caught her eye; she blew a kiss in its direction and curtsied briefly, in deference to the spiderlings holding them.
"Bonsoir, mes amis!" she called, waving royally with several arms. "Thank you ever so much." Goodness, the lights werebright. To say nothing of the hundreds of starlike camera flashes in the stands. Aside from the LED signs held by her spiderlings, the audience were simply faint blobs. The slight echo of her own voice through her earpiece was odd. Oh, what was she supposed to do?
The bright red of Papyrus's gloved hand was like a beacon, and she let out a relieved breath. Everything would be fine. "As fabulous as I am," she said grandiosely, "even I need a bit of help sometimes." She raised a gloved hand to her mouth with a titter, then gestured toward Papyrus; a spotlight swung to illuminate him. "Ma charmant assistant, Papyrus!"
The crowd roared; Papyrus beamed, waving with both hands. A small mountain of unassuming bombs sat next to him.
"And this is my darling pet, Mr. Tuffet! Say hello, dearie."
He lifted a sparkly leg and bellowed mellifluously.
She balanced to a stand on Mr. Tuffet's cigar, remembering to give her best royal laugh as she pretended to suddenly notice the giant multi-sided screen suspended above the stage. "Oh, goodness, there I am. How exciting! I feel like I could fly…"
She leapt from Mr. Tuffet's cigar as if it were a springboard and tucked into a somersault, releasing her hair ties as she went; her hair streamed gracefully around her, casting shadows through the floodlights.
(In the distance, Chara whistled.)
"Ah-ha, much better, she said over her pounding heart. She feigned contemplation. "But something's missing…"
With a fanged smile she began constructing a cigar of her own. A drumroll filled the air as she once again called forth webbing and spiderlings, but this time a cloud of glitter also appeared, obscuring her from view. When it disappeared, an extra-long, extra wide black cigar floated in front of her; the glitter cloud drew into it in a blink. (The rimshot sounded.)
The applause nearly distracted her from the small camera taking her close-up. Feeling brazen, she winked and blew a kiss at it before chomping down on the floating cigar.
"Light me up, dearie!" She casually sent out webbing to hook around Mr. Tuffet's cigar, whipping into a forward flip and touching her cigar to his. She landed gracefully, feeling the crackle of magic at her back and the audience's reaction at the spider-shaped firework that popped to life.
"Spicy," she trilled, laughing with the audience and blinking surreptitiously at the continual sparkle of her cigar. Pause for effect, and...
"Now then," she said, as she swung back up to Mr. Tuffet's back, "what's next…? Oh, j'ai compris!" Stifling a grin, she punctuated this with a finger snap, opening all her eyes wide in affected shock as a handful of multicolored fireballs flew toward Mr. Tuffet's candle and lit it with a pop. "Pas bien, pas bien…" She scurried up close, stood on her tiptoes, and pinched out the rapidly burning flame with two hands. Plucking her hat off for a moment and making a show of wiping her face (gracefully), she said, "Goodness, dearie, it would be terribly impolite of us to blow up the arena! Why, I've heard of starting things off with a bang, but that's ridiculous."
Mr. Tuffet made a sad trombone noise; the audience dissolved into laughter.
She smiled demurely, dusting her hands. Little do they know I wasn't joking.
(In the stands, Asriel released his poker-faced but inwardly panicked datefriends from a crushing grip. The spiderlings flashed 8-bit bombs and explosions on their signs.)
While Muffet waited for the merriment to subside, she flicked her wrists, attaching invisible silk to the cannon's mouth. "Well!" she said, spreading her arms wide, "what do you say we get the real show started?"
The lights flashed as the crowd responded.
Her soul was surprisingly calm, given how jittery she felt. Her mind, though, was clear; she held an image of Mettaton's intense gaze, waiting for her to start, and imagined Frisk and their friends cheering her on. In her peripheral vision she saw Papyrus practically vibrating with excitement.
"Wonderful," she sang out. She took two steps back, pulled two of her arms taut, and then she launched. In a perfect arc, she flew over the cannon, releasing her webs as she dropped to snap backwards into it. "Mr. Tuffet, éclaire ceci!"
Pinkpurpleblue smoke emanated from the cannon's mouth while she waited. She heard him bugle and felt mild vibrations as he tromped over. Then a soft sizzling noise whispered in. Any second now, the gentle horns of Strauss would begin playing.
Instead, she heard cymbals.
Loud electric guitars came in as she was blasted from the cannon, but she had enough presence of mind to begin various acrobatics, somersaulting and pirouetting through the air as her webbing hooked onto the scaffolding high above her. That is not the Blue Danube!
Papyrus, bless him, immediately started with energetic movements, interspersed with lighting the slow-burning bombs in time to the music. She kept one of her eyes on him, frantically thinking through what to do now that her entire routine had been upended. The music wasn't unfamiliar; it was something that Chara had been fond of in their time and subsequently hooked Frisk on. But it was very fast.
Drum fills sounded and she held herself in place (to the audience she appeared to be floating). Still keeping time, Papyrus picked up a bomb, held it up to the audience and—
"Trois, deux, un," she murmured (into her muted mic), and steeled herself.
He gave a mighty throw. The bomb reached her height and she touched her cigar to the spider-silk fuse. Two more bombs in quick succession, and as she flipped and spun among them they exploded in time with the first verse's melody— instrumental, thankfully. From their markings she knew what to expect. Neon spider-webs hung in the air; glitter rained down around her; and a minor explosion made the audience gasp.
(Down below, Chara, Frisk and a certain orange lizard were rambunctiously scream-singing the lyrics, complete with gestures. Asriel and Undyne gamely hummed along.)
She tucked into a dive, zooming close to Papyrus to catch another set of bombs, six in all. These were all self-lighting types, and not all glitter either; a risk, but what wasn't risky about this entire affair? Flying back up, she juggled them effortlessly, then tossed some high while she sent others toward the audience.
Appreciative noises bubbled up from that section as she swung away; one of the bombs she'd hit toward the stands had a pastry spell on it and the other was another fireworks bomb. Laughing, exhilarated, she spun herself farther, tracing the arc of the other bombs with glowing cigar smoke. Soon she was beside them and close enough to see the fuses burned halfway down. A suspiciously Mettaton-like voice in her mind whispered of danger, but the edges of her vision glowing orange blotted it out.
She punched two of them still higher (one webbing, one spiderling), speeding up their fuses with a few cigars' fireballs. Now she was between the last two.
Just a few more seconds…
The explosion was louder than she expected, leaving her ears ringing, and the spiderlings of the second bomb had gotten incinerated. She couldn't see, but she knew where she was going; spiraling down through the smoke, the wind blowing out the green flames caught in her hair, she glimpsed purple sequins and a familiar sprinkle-covered back before she angled herself upright.
She landed on Mr. Tuffet's candle on one foot, hair cascading around her like a shroud. As the second chorus kicked in she flipped her hair back and posed for the elated audience.
Papyrus bounded over and shouted over the music, "That was unexpected, Princess!"
Somewhat winded, Muffet just smiled, then flipped off Mr. Tuffet to stand beside him. "Ready for the finale?"
Papy's permanent smile stretched wider, and he gave a salute. Clapping his hands twice, he grabbed a conjured potion from the air and chugged it down. A barely visible purple glow followed him as he zipped over to Mr. Tuffet, who waved energetically with two legs, honking quietly to the music. "Good boy," Papyrus said happily, before hoisting the muffin-cupcake monster aloft with one hand.
The crowd went into a frenzy.
Beaming, Papyrus held the pose for a moment before stepping over to the cannon. "In you go," he said, voice echoing (his mic had been turned back on). Mr. Tuffet disappeared into the cannon with a shunk. Papyrus's purple glow faded away.
Muffet, meanwhile, had danced her way to the other end of the stage and done more tricks with the last few bombs. While Papyrus had been handling Mr. Tuffet, she had set up more web slingshots, and as soon as he disappeared into the cannon she cannonballed toward it with a joyous whoop, magnified by her unmuted mic.
Into Mr. Tuffet's mouth she went.
A muffled belch cut through the music, and the audience laughed.
"Time is short, sweetie," Muffet said, giggling. "Better launch me!"
And out she went in a rainbow cigar cloud, Mr. Tuffet's warbling trailing after her. The other end of the stage hurtled toward her, then passed by.
"Whoopsie daisy," she said, flinging out web lines behind her to catch the stage edge and yoink herself back. A nearly ungraceful landing turned into a hasty ninja-roll ("Eleven out of ten!" Chara yelled, while the spiderlings signs showed the score), and by the time Papyrus had lit the cannon with a bomb fuse, she stood at the ready.
Raising one hand, she gave a wordless shout. A flash of light above her head coalesced into a humongous, rhinestone-encrusted, purple and gold…
("Flyswatter?!" all three kids shouted. Undyne cheered. The spiderlings danced.)
As the fuse burned, Muffet adjusted her grip and tightened her stance.
Mr. Tuffet honked.
"Starlight…"
The cannon fired.
"Cupcake…"
Mr. Tuffet hurtled across the stage.
Fangs glinting, Muffet gave a mighty shout.
"Joooooooolt!"
With every ounce of strength she had and then some, she swung the flyswatter overhand.
Time seemed to stop as Mr. Tuffet's impact traveled down her arms.
Then, like a game had been unpaused, he flew off into the sky in a lovely arc. A rainbow tail trailed behind him, raining glitter across the arena.
"Bon voyage, darling!" Muffet called, waving.
A star bright enough to be a planet appeared in the sky. (Later, some audience members would swear they heard a bell-like sound.) Then, slowly, it faded out along with the wailing guitars.
Muffet let the flyswatter drop (gracefully). Muting her mic briefly, she regulated her breathing, legs shaking just a bit. The silence around her seemed like it might swallow her up like Mr. Tuffet had done just a few minutes ago. Then the audience burst into sound again, and all the lights came up, and Muffet turned to bask in the admiration. She picked out a metallic clap from all the other applause, and mild dizziness passed over her, knowing he was preparing to speak. What a flibbertigibbet she was.
"Brava, brava! What a multifaceted performance! Such spirit, such humor! Yes, let's give our lovely Spider Princess another hand. And some for her friends!"
She curtsied deeply to Papyrus and gestured him over to plant a kiss on his cheekbone. He bowed to the cheers and whistles while Muffet said into her mic, "I promise no Mr. Tuffets were harmed during this act." It was a small pity to— what was the word Frisk used?— "yeet" Mr. Tuffet so soon after his last rebaking, but sometimes it couldn't be helped. Besides, she'd reinforced him for this act; hopefully he'd arrive safely in the landing zone.
"We did it," Papyrus said to her, beaming.
She squeezed his arm with a couple hands and grinned back.
Everything after that was mainly a blur; she'd found her way backstage, somehow managed to make small talk with one of the waiting acts, (that dragon girl was an interesting one), and eventually Frisk and the others arrived to shower her with excitement. The moment she became properly aware was when she was in the midst of making a small hammock out of webbing in one of the communal lounge rooms near the arena (as far as Muffet was concerned, hammocks were perfectly acceptable as indoor furniture). The existing seating was exceedingly comfortable, satiny and soft— after all, Mettaton had overseen the decor— but Muffet found herself longing for homestyle comfort. So she'd rearranged a pair of sturdy floor lamps as anchors and set to work, giving the hammock a dash of glitter just because.
And so, presently she was lounging about in said hammock, makeup removed and clothes casual— which for her meant purple satin loungewear, with lace edging, and a black-and-white web-patterned beret. Occasional purple plumes billowed from her fresh, regular-sized (that is, slightly less huge) cigar as she watched Alphys pace from snack bowl to snack bowl. Frisk had volunteered to pendent-teleport to Mr. Tuffet's location with Papyrus and bring him back, and had yet to return. The flat-screen showing other contestants' acts, along with talking-head commentary from a reindeer named Rudy and a curly-headed human whose name she kept forgetting, was at background-noise level. That served to distract her from her thoughts, whether she was actively watching or not. Everything was over now, and she wasn't going to waste time thinking about every possible misstep she might have made. Wasting time fantasizing about what Mettaton thought of her performance, on the other hand…
"O-Oh, g-g-good," Alphy said (Muffet coughed discreetly from a startled inhale). "Frisk just texted me. Mr. Tuffet's been found..." She squinted at her phone. "Missing s-some frosting? B-But none the worse f-for wear. Great!" She waved her phone at Muffet as she passed. "I'll go meet them. T-They're getting good at t-teleporting a l-l-lot faster than I, I expected, but I should stand by j-just in case. Since they have passengers." Then she scurried from the room.
Muffet had decided to actually watch show coverage when Chara and Asriel came in and sat down.
"You were amazing, Muffet," Asriel said, bouncing a bit in his seat.
"And the soundtrack was pretty good too." What Chara said was harder to understand through a mouthful of pretzels (when had they even grabbed the bag?).
"Merci," she replied through a wide yawn. She set her cigar aside for the moment; Z-shaped trails rose up from it. "Although the music wasn't what I'd intended…"
"Oh, really?" For a moment, Chara looked smug. Then they said, "You couldn't tell from where we were sitting."
Small thumping noises came from somewhere out in the hall; Frisk came in the room seconds later, slightly out of breath. "Hi guys hi Muffet what'd I miss," they said in one breath while gathering an impressive array of munchies and a mug of hot chocolate. They climbed onto the couch between the other two, dumped their collection onto a closer table, and then drank leisurely from their mug.
Muffet felt a bit winded watching them. "Very little, I think," she said, eyeing the TV uncertainly. "Where are Mr. Tuffet and Papyrus?"
"Mr. Tuffet's all cozy in his corral and Papyrus is feeding him."
She picked up the cigar, waving away question-mark shaped smoke. "Are you sure that is, er, sûr?"
They flapped a hand as they took a long drink; then balanced their mug on their lap. "Alphys is there too. She knows what's up."
Muffet made an affirming noise and picked up her own drink, butterbeer. An ad with psychedelic colors was currently playing, and between that and her state of awakeness, her brain fell into a stream of consciousness.
"Do you know something, Frisk dearie?" she said, lolling back to look at them upside down. "I've been thinking I might venture into space travel someday. I have plans for a cannon powerful enough to break through Earth's exosphere! Only plans, and not a word leaves this room, comprendre?"
"Oui, je comprend." Frisk put a solemn hand over their heart. "That goes for you too," they said to Chara and Asriel.
Asriel nodded, expression serious. Chara, staring at the TV, made a noise resembling agreement.
"And so!" Muffet set her drink down, spreading out several other arms. "I extend an invitation to you to become the first Cannon Astronaut!"
"Oh, that would be awesome. And I bet Alphys would make the perfect suit for it!" Frisk said with a grin. "You should have asked Azzy first, though. He's hella into space."
Asriel laughed nervously. "They're right, b-b-but I dunno if I'm cut out for—"
"Rocket maaaann," Chara sang out suddenly, sprawling out as they did.
The other two joined in enthusiastically. "Burning out his fuse up here alone!"
"And I think it's gonna be a long lo— whoa, wait, shut up, I need to see these guys." Chara grabbed the remote out of the snack bowl it had landed in and turned up the volume.
"I'm not the man they think I am at home," Frisk whisper-sang.
"Oh, no, no no," Asriel continued.
Chara shushed them.
Muffet readjusted to view the screen properly, putting her cigar back in her mouth and puffing leisurely. A trio consisting of two monsters and a human strolled onto the stage and faced forward as Mettaton rattled off their introductions. Muffet vaguely recognized them from when she passed them by backstage.
"What the hell kind of cosplay," Chara muttered, transfixed.
The camera zoomed in and panned over the group. The human was dressed in full armor and held a sword in their left hand. Oddly, their skin was blue. On their right stood a black-furred goat monster a head shorter than the human, though the mint-green mage's hat he wore made him seem taller; he wore a matching cloak, a pink scarf that appeared to have a mind of its own, and glasses, and held a book under his arm. The dragon girl stood to the human's left and had a full foot and a half on them. She was clad in a leather jacket and boots, and showed off an impressive range of purple shades with her skin, pants, and shirt; fearsome spiked bracelets on both wrists were the finishing touch, and the axe at her side gleamed forebodingly.
"I. Love. Her. She's so fu— flipping badass." Chara was practically spitting hearts. "She is my waifu."
Mettaton was winding up for the name reveal. "Together, they become the— ah, hmm. That's a bit…" Sounding slightly confused, he cleared his throat. "The fighting squad!"
"No way, metal dude," the dragon girl yelled. The camera closed in as she said, baring her teeth in a grin, "We're the $!$? Squad!"
The censor didn't catch it.
The audience in the arena and in the room (three-fourths, anyway) erupted.
"Oh my god," Chara was saying gleefully as Frisk and Asriel shouted a drawn-out, "Whoa!"
"Yes, well," Mettaton said with a nervous laugh, "bring on the [beep] Squad!"
Muffet chuckled (heart shapes rose from her cigar without her knowledge). "This should be interesting…"
Grand horns blared from the loudspeakers as each group member struck a pose. A dark cloud that felt suspiciously sentient was gradually gathering at the opposite end of the stage.
A raspy yet power-filled voice spoke, and the camera swooped in on the armor-clad human as they hefted their sword. "O void of darkness, terror at the heart of this calamity, your reign is at an end."
"We have journeyed far to reach your realm," piped the goat boy, his scarf waving menacingly.
Dragon girl clenched a fist. "And we've faced too many obstacles to be thwarted by the likes of you."
The shadow had begun to take form— four legs, clawed feet, innumerable eyes.
The human raised their sword high. It began to glow. "In the name of light—"
"—hope—"
"—and strength—"
The trio's voices rang out as one. "We shall strike you down!"
The shadowbeast gave an arena-shaking roar, dragon girl hoisted her axe, and glowing runes appeared to float out of goat boy's book.
Then all hell broke loose.
"Oh my god it's the Super Smashing Fighters theme," yelled Asriel, though how he could make it out over the battle cries and weapon clashes Muffet didn't know.
She murmured appreciatively at a rainbow-tinged beam of light the goat boy summoned to blast the shadowbeast; the smoke from her cigar began to resemble confetti.
"Come on," Chara repeated, the other two clinging to their shoulders. "Do the thing!"
With a mighty yell, dragon girl raised her axe above her head with both hands. A magical shield from goat boy saved the human from being crushed under the shadowbeast's claw; they rolled away, sprang to their feet, and jumped from dragon girl's shoulder to the edge of her axe and into the air in one motion, sword poised to strike.
Muffet was so shocked she nearly ate her cigar (again); instead, the cigar smoke changed from purple to red. Under the kids' overjoyed screams, her phone was going off. Alphys' text tone. Oh dear. She slipped off the chaise, grabbing footwear as she went. "Let me know what happens, for I must excuse myself."
"DVR-ing, duh," Chara said, not looking.
Frisk glanced at her for a second, then back to the TV. "Everything okay?"
"Yes, dearie. Mr. Tuffet just got a bit enthusiastic with snacktime and needs a checkup," she explained on her way out of the room.
If Frisk knew that Mr. Tuffet had gobbled up Papyrus and Alphys, they'd want to help. In this case, they'd only be in the way, and Muffet was loath to call them away from the excellent act now playing out.
She had to ply Mr. Tuffet with quite a few spider stogies before he was willing to cough them up. Aside from being rather sticky and ever-so-slightly chewed on, neither of them were in dire straits. Papyrus gave his gloves a refresh, gently admonishing Mr. Tuffet; Alphys was talking excitedly about his abilities, makeup, and other things Muffet had no hope of understanding.
"My dear pet, meal time is terminée now," she said, puffing sternly on a new stogie. "You've had your dessert already."
"Th-Thanks," Alphys said. "P-P-Papy and I will head back to the l-lounge now."
"Yes!" Papyrus hurried ahead, waving Alphys on. "If we make haste, we can catch the %$^& Battalion's act!"
"Oooh, they s-sound so cool…"
Petting Mr. Tuffet idly, Muffet pulled up the text exchange with Mettaton from a few days earlier. Just to look at it. She considered sending a few emojis, but she doubted he was the type to avoid distraction, even while emceeing a nationally-televised event.
How egotistical to think I'd be capable of distracting him.
She was pulled from her reverie by Mr. Tuffet nudging at her with his cigar. "Yes, my sweet?"
He patted her beret'd head and peeped hopefully. Then he honked and ate the cigar in one go, crunching happily; immediately after, he let out an impressive multi-colored belch.
Muffet applauded quietly, giggling. "Truc impressionnant." Then she sighed, shrugged, and said, "Why not? As a treat for your trick."
Mr. Tuffet hopped a bit, legs wiggling, and slurped Muffet into his mouth.
It was dark and warm, save for the light from Muffet's cigar. Of course she had magicked it so that it wouldn't react to any explosive that comprised Mr. Tuffet. She could feel and hear him begin to purr, and then a muffled crash and he fell to the floor to sleep.
"Sleep well, ma cherie. You've done a spectacular job today." His sleepiness was rather contagious; she could feel her eyelids growing heavy. But one impulse blazed through: she texted Mettaton. Today has been une belle journée.
He responded five minutes later, perhaps during a commercial break. Indeed it has. Sweet dreams, darling!
A dreamy smile lit her face. "I think they will be."
She drifted off then, cigar still in her mouth. Its bakery scent mingled pleasantly with Mr. Tuffet's unique fragrance of lavender and cardamom.
(She woke just long enough, some time later, to text Frisk about her choice of sleeping quarters for the night.)