Eight's excited! For pizza! Eight really likes pizza. She can't think of a food that she doesn't like! Well. Maybe tofu, because it almost tastes like the nutrition blocks she had in the Domes, but other than that, she can't think of a bad food! … Well. There's also pigeon, but it's less of a "This tastes bad!" and more of a "They're really cute and eating them makes me feel like a bad person!", which is more or less the same thing. Eight might prefer tofu to pigeon, actually.
Eight's also a little super nervous. Because Three is there. She doesn't hate Three! She's just. Scared Three hates her.
That fear's been there for a while, but the other day she asked Pearl and Marina about Three, because Pearl and Marina have the answers to Everything Ever! and their answer was, like, super stupid! Which is kind of a mean thing to say, but it's true.
"Three always acts really weird whenever she's around. Like, she stammers a lot and I don't know if she's sick or dying or something? And maybe I'm just being stupid but she, like, avoids me more and more and I don't know if I did something wrong, and- Why are you laughing?" she asked.
"Eight," Pearl started after cackling like a fool, "She likes you."
"Why would she be avoiding me if she likes me?"
"Well," Marina said with a sigh, "She's Three."
And that reasoning would make sense if it wasn't the stupidest reasoning ever! Because, you know, Three was cool and Eight liked being around Three because Three was cool and Eight was worried because what if she did something and Three was just too nice to say something about it?
"Come on, Eight," Pearl interrupted her train of thought that was also being said out loud at the same time, "She's Three. She'd say something."
And Eight let out a quiet sigh because Three is stupid and inklings are stupid and the surface is stupid and feelings are stupid as well. Take that.
"Fine. Okay." Surface Rule #1: Accept everything someone tells you. "But... Why would liking someone make you act weird?"
Marina pursed her lips and gave Eight the Romance Talk. And the Romance Talk was stupid and weird and DUMB and Eight didn't really get it and she still doesn't really get it but everyone else seemed to get it so Eight just pretended to get it as well.
"So, how do you feel about Three?" she asked after the Talk.
Eight wanted to slam her face into the table. She did not.
"I don't know," she mumbled quietly.
"Think about it, then."
So Eight's been thinking about it. She learned a decent amount about inkling romance, and then the stupid inkling courting rituals, and she came to the conclusion that they are all Dumb and Stupid but they also Kind Of Make Sense. And then she thought about Three and then she thought about how she feels about Three, and at 3:00 in the morning five days ago she came to the unfortunate realization that the stupid feelings towards Three are kind of romantic.
And because of that, the past five days have been spent panicking because Three won't return them because Three is cool. Waaaaay too cool for Eight!
Four talked pretty much the entire time they walked. Eight didn't mind, because she likes the sound of Four's voice. Three had a comment here or there, but Eight was quiet for most of it. Because she was thinking... And she tried to stop thinking... , but Eight couldn't force brain death no matter how much she wanted it, so she just kept thinking…
"Hey, Eight." Oh! A voice. Eight finally stops thinking… and instead looks at the person who spoke. Four! Hi, Four. Four laughs. "We're here."
"Oh!" Food! Eight likes food. Food is good. When spelled, they're pretty much the same word. Fgood. Gfood. (G/F)ood. See? Eight's reinventing the modern Inkling language.
The door to Sand Dollar has a black rim and handle, with a glass pane in the middle. On it are some numbers printed on it in white text. Seeing that they're all times, Eight's going to make an educated guess and say that they're the hours. Three walks ahead of them and holds the door open for them.
"After you," she mumbles, looking down at the floor.
"Thanks." Four walks inside. Eight follows her, but not without thanking Three. Because that's, like, rude and Eight isn't rude! Pfft, in the Domes, Eight was known as the Least Rude Octarian EVER! So… Take that!
The inside of Sand Dollar is a bit darker than everything outside, which is nice. Eight's kind of very not used to the sun, but she really likes it! Even if it's suuuuuper bright, like, sheesh! Calm down a little! Octarians all collectively evolved to have night vision, because the underground doesn't always have light. And, because of that, the light hurts her eyes after a bit! So. Yeah. She's happy to be here where it's dim-ish.
It's also kind of cold. Which normally isn't a bad thing, but Eight's shirt doesn't cover as much as a regular shirt. She used to wear shirts like these all the time, but then she got used to surface clothes because the clothes she was used to, would, as some old anemone said, "Attract the wrong kind of attention." Eight asked Marina what that meant. She shook her head and sighed. "She's trying to tell you that you look like a slut. Which you don't, by the way? Old people are stupid." Which was RUDE! But. Yeah. Eight stopped wearing clothes like that. So Eight kind of forgot what it's like to have, like, her entire midriff out. She's not oblivious to the looks she's been getting, but… They don't seem all that bad.
… Especially not the one Three gave her earlier.
But.
Ahem.
Anyways.
There's a small stand… Podium… Wait-y thingy… WHATEVER! Inkling's not even Eight's first language, so YEAH! Eat that! But, um, yep, behind the thing is a pretty tired-looking inkling in a kinda boring uniform (all uniforms are boring, change Eight's mind) and she drums her fingers against it. She looks up when the three walk in, and puts on a fake smile.
"Welcome to Sand Dollar! How many?" Eight isn't a stranger to fake voices, but heck. She might have cringed a little when she heard it, not like she'll tell anyone.
"Three, please," Four responds in an equally fake voice.
"Okay!" The hostess grabs three menus. "Would you like a booth or a table?"
"Booth, thank you." AH Four's voice is so FAKE and her smile is so FAKE and it's bad .
"Alright, follow me, please!" She leads them to a booth. Four sits down first and sets her bag next to her, then spreads her legs so she'd take up as much room as cephalopodly possible.
Jerk.
Eight sits on the other side of the table with a nice view of the door. And Three, who tried to discreetly flip Four off, sits down beside her.
"Jacob will be your server tonight, please enjoy your meal!" With another super fake smile, she's off.
Eight can see Four adjust in her seat. When she's not taking up 10,000 units of available space on a booth, she looks nice. Her jacket also looks… Comfy. She offered to buy Eight a jacket like that, but Eight didn't want to impose because it was like 20,000 C and that's way too much for a jacket . Though, right now, she... Wishes she had one. It's cold in here.
"Are you cold?" Three asks, reading her mind. "Here." She reaches towards the base of her hoodie and starts to take it off.
"No, no, it's fine. Three, you really don't-"
"Don't lie to me, Eight," she mutters with an eye roll. Taking it off, she pulls one of the sleeves out. "You rubbed your arms four times in the past minute."
… Well, she's got her there.
Three ungraciously hands Eight the hoodie. Eight takes it, blushing, and puts it on.
"Sorry if it smells," she apologizes. "It was the cleanest one I could find."
Eight was going to ask what she meant, but then she notices. And… Yeah. Three's hoodie smells a little bit like sweat, a lot like ink, and there are small hints of weapon grease here and there… Despite all of that, it still manages to smell like Three. Really, it's not the worst thing she's smelled, and she tells Three that.
"... Thanks." Three's face is still a bit yellow, but not nearly as bad as before. She looks away from Eight and starts reading the menu.
Eight picks hers up from the table and starts looking through it. And heck , there's a lot to choose from! Eight's overwhelmed! … Well, she can pretty much get whatever, right? Since she's paying and all, and she's got enough money stockpiled that she's pretty okay with splurging a bit. But… Hm. Eight really likes surface food. So… She's okay with anything! Besides tofu, because pigeon isn't a pizza topping.
"This is a lot," she says quietly after rereading the menu for the fifth time.
"Yeah, I get that." Three rests her head on her palm. Beneath her hoodie, she wore a tank top. And… Now that her hoodie is no longer being worn, Eight can totally see Three wearing the tank top. She thinks it's called a wifebeater? Which is, like, a stupid name. Why would you call a shirt that? But… Ugh, still, even if the shirt has a stupid name, Three doesn't look bad in it. Eight can see her arms, which, yeah, that's obvious. But since Three turfs a lot and does agent work and carries around a heavy roller at all times, pretty much, she's, like, kinda muscular, not that Eight cares or anything, but, haha, like, you know, she's, strong, and Eight's still a little more muscly than Three, but Eight just spent 10,000 years in Kamabo and she still turfs sometimes, but, still, Three, is, yes?, is that weird, maybe, hey unrelated but it was cold in here not too long ago Eight's face feels kind of warm, haha, oh god, this is going to be where she dies,
"Eight?" THREE HI HELLO EIGHT WAS NOT STARING AT YOU OR YOUR ARMS BECAUSE THAT'S STUPID AND CREEPY "Fuck, are you okay?"
Eight tries to speak and say words like a normal cephalopod... But she doesn't. She just says a few incoherent syllables and then sighs and hangs her head, looking down at the booth seat.
Three presses the back of her hand against Eight's forehead. Which, um, yeah, things? Feeling things with the back of your hand is, um, good, because if it electrocutes you your hand will instinctively pull away instead of the front which will clamp down on it and you'll die, and no, Eight isn't changing the subject, shut up! Oh and if you're wondering Eight doesn't let out a pathetic squeaky sputtery noise because that's stupid and another cool fact about Eight is that she was voted the Least Stupid Octarian EVER as well so yeah take that.
"You feel warm…" Eight is dead. She died. Rest in peace, Eight Houzuki. Pearl and Marina and Four and possibly Three will all weep and sob at her funeral. "Poor Eight," they'll say, "She died of stupidity." "... Are you sick?"
"No, it's, um, you…uuuur shirt? Like, it, uh, color? Mhm. You know how, uh, white clothes..?" You know the last chunk of internal monologue that just passed? Repeat it. Repeat all of it. Because Eight, she, ah, shit, there's no recovering from this.
Three's hand tenses against Eight's forehead and she quickly retracts it.
"I, um." Eight looks up from the seat and over at Three. Her face is currently some shade of yellowy-orange. It reminds her of marigolds, which, it's, uhhhhhhh notabadcolor NOT THAT EIGHT CARES butshedoesalotactually and um totally completely 100% definitely unrelated but her hearts are all racing and she thinks she might die of a heart attack. "You… Sorry?" Three refuses to meet her gaze. And, well… Neither does Eight. Not at first, at least.
Silence settles over the table as Three looks up from the seat to meet Eight's eyes. Eight feels too scared to move, too scared to speak… Or, no, not even scared. She just… She… Eight doesn't know how she feels, but she…
Gods, Three… Her eyes are stunning. One is a dark crimson, the other - her right eye - is a brilliant cyan, the pupil white. The skin around it isn't stained anymore, the unnatural color to her eye being the only remnant of the hijacking.
Three moves to set her hand back down onto the seat, but she lays it on Eight's hand instead. Eight tenses a bit, and Three breaks eye contact as she yanks her hand away.
"Uh, s-sorry, I…"
"No, no, it's, um… It's fine…"
Four sighs heavily and they're both reminded of her presence.
"My god," she whispers, "Just get a room."
A room? Why would they- oh my god no Four you didn't she, Eight would, what?, that, she, oh my god, oh my, god, you, she, fuck , oh my god,
"Four," Three says quietly in a stern voice, "Please, for the love of god, shut the fuck up."
Four opens her mouth to speak.
"No." Three cuts her off before she even begins. "You... Know you're making her uncomfortable, right?"
She snickers.
"Am I? Dunno, I think she's kinda into it, aren't ya, Eight?"
"What? Uh, yeah, wai- NO, I-" WHAT EIGHT WOULD, SHE, HAH, WHY WOULD EIGHT EVER BE, LIKE, INTO STUFF, STUFF THAT IS, LIKE, THAT?, YEAH, SHE, UM, MIND, GUTTER, OUT OF THERE, EIGHT IS, EIGHT, THIS FUCKING SUCKS and she launches her face into the table because SCREW YOU, FOUR. Quietly, she mumbles, "Four, I hate you. So much."
Four just cackles.
Jerk.
"Hi, um…" A person. A waiter? ... Yes. F… Food. "Sorry, am I interrupting something?"
"No," Eight says, voice muffled by the table. Slowly, she sits up. Her forehead might be bruised… Not that she cares much.
"... Right." He's an inkling, wearing the same dumb uniform, and he clears his throat. "I'm Jacob, and I'll be your server tonight. What can I start you off with to drink?"
"I'd like a Sprite, please," Four says with a smile.
"Lemonade," Three mumbles, glaring. "It's called lemonade. "
"Shut up and order, loser." Four's tone indicates that this is a debate that they've had many times before. Which is… Stupid. Like, there's lemonade, and then there's lemonade, right? That's how Eight understands it.
Three rolls her eyes. "Fine, fine. Could I get a Coke? Thanks."
"And for you, miss?" Ah geez oh man, Eight hates ordering food and drinks and stuff. Because there's always so much stuff. And she panics.
"Um, an ice water, please?" AH GEEZ OH MAN EIGHT DIDN'T EVEN WANT THAT BUT SHE'S COMMITTED NOW. "Thank you!"
"Aaaaalrighty then." Jacob writes something down on his notepad. "Have you decided what you wanted to eat yet? Or should I ask when I come back with your drinks?"
"Yeah, we're still figuring this out." Three gives him a forced smile that almost looks natural. Jacob returns it and then leaves.
"So…" Four's voice trails off as she drums her fingers on the table. "What exactly do you all want on it?"
"I am not fucking eating pineapple," Three states. "Tofu? Tofu, I can almost understand, but no fucking fruit should be on a goddamn pizza."
"But tomatoes are a fruit, and they're on pizza." Four looks smug. "Do you eat naked pizza, Three?"
"You know what I mean," she snaps.
"No," she says with an increasingly smug grin, "I don't."
"Like… Fucking, real fruit. That shit's not allowed on pizza."
What?
"Real… Fruit?" Eight repeats. "Isn't every fruit a kind of, um… Real fruit?"
"Tomatoes are basically vegetables," Three says in a matter-of-fact voice. "Trust me."
… Huh?
"She's just too much of a whiny bitch to eat pineapple," Four whispers at a normal volume. "She's too weak."
"I am not a whiny bitch, excuse you. I just have standards, you blithering ass sandwich." Ooh, that's a new one! Eight likes hearing the, um…Creative insults that Three comes up with. Currently, her favourite has to be "You sad fucking barfnugget," if only because of the delivery. How does Three even say all that with a straight face? Just thinking about it makes Eight laugh a little!
"Standards my ass. You just can't stomach it. And if I don't have standards, what the fuck do you have? You listen to fucking Wetallica. Wetallica! AND I saw you dump relish on nachos."
"Okay, first of all, fuck you, Wetallica has contributed more to the inkling race than anything you've done, secondly, shut the fuck up, you moronic fuck paste." … Oh. This is, um, accelerating.
Four presses her hand to her hearts and pulls her glasses down a bit as she gawks.
"Excuse you?" she asks.
"You fucking heard me," Three snarls.
Four glares at Three. Three glares back. Eight is scared to see where this is going.
After a few tense seconds, Four bursts out laughing and Three softly snickers.
"You're still disgusting, you dork," Four mumbles.
"I never denied it."
"... What?" Is this normal? Eight thinks this is too weird to be normal. Why would you be friends with someone and bond over insulting each other? Isn't the point of friendship, like, the exact opposite of being mean to each other? "Are you guys okay..?"
"Yeah, we're fine," Three tells her, and Eight uses her tried-and-true skill of Accepting Everything. "Trust me."
"But- You…" Eight makes a vague gesture of frustration. "You know what? Fine. You're both so weird. "
Three hums softly while Four shrugs a little.
"Sooo… We never answered the question, whaddya guys want on it?" Four drums her fingers on the table, looking at the menu. "We could get an extra large and split the toppings on it."
"Sure." Three looks over at Eight. "You're cool with that, right?"
"Mhm." Eight nods. "I'll eat anything except for tofu, so get whatever."
"You sure?"
"Yep, positive. Um… My standards are kind of at nutrition blocks, so…" Three purses her lips.
"I forgot you grew up in a sad fucking hole," she says with an eye roll. "Yeah, okay, sure."
"It wasn't a sad fucking hole," Eight mumbles, a tad defensive. Sure, it might have been a hole, but it… It could be worse. Valley life was infinitely better than the Ravine. The Ravine is a sad fucking hole.
She watches Three do a visible double-take while Four starts laughing.
"... What?" she asks, confused. "Did… Did I say something wrong?"
"No, it-" Three stops to collect her thoughts. "You…"
"I've literally never heard you say hell, let alone fuck," Four explains for her. "So it's kinda funny."
"Um, sorry, then..?" Eight wouldn't say she's as bad as, like, Three, but she's… Y'know. A legal adult. She tends to curse more in Octarian, though. Still, is… Is it that weird?
"Nah, it's fine. Just…" Three snickers to herself. "You never struck me as the type."
It is at this exact moment when Eight remembers her friends are two monolingual idiots.
"I… See." Eight coughs into her hand. The situation remains awkward. Oops. "So, um. Yeah. Just… Get whatever you'd like that isn't tofu."
"Half pineapple, half… Whatever Three gets?" Four suggests.
Three wrinkles her nose and nods.
"Yeah," she says with a sigh, "Sure."
"Great!" Four punctuates it with a clap. "So… What's the grossest pizza topping you can think of?"
"Orange," Three says after a moment. "Infinitely worse than pineapple."
"That doesn't sound awful?" It's not the worst thing Eight's seen.
Four looks at her with a look of mock-seriousness… Because Four probably isn't capable of non-mock-seriousness.
"It what?"
Eight laughs nervously. "Yeah… You should see Pearl's pizzas." She shudders. "Mayo instead of tomato sauce, chili, potatoes, tofu, banana…"
Four gags. Three looks wildly uncomfortable.
"Wow," is the word that break the silence that settles over them. "I think I have an actual reason to kill Pearl now."
"Normally I try to stop you from killing people," Four says quietly, "But I think this is the one exception."
"... Please don't kill my mom."
"I can't promise anything," Three mutters.
"She deserves it," Four adds.
"At least she doesn't put relish on nachos."
"First of all, " Three starts after taking a deep breath, "Relish on nachos isn't that fucking bad. It adds flavour, you fucking degenerate, and no one seems to fucking understand that. FURTHERMORE, ketchup ramen isn't that bad either. And it's not that fucking awful with pickles and I know for a fact you haven't tried it." She takes another deep breath and starts shaking her leg beneath the table.
Four gags again.
"You're cute when you're mad," Eight mumbles without thinking.
Four sighs.
Three freezes.
Eight suppresses the urge to slam her face into the table with lethal force.
There are times when Eight wonders if she should have let Tartar destroy Inkopolis, because if it was destroyed, situations like these wouldn't occur.
But it's fine! Eight's never been better. Neeeeever ever ever!
"You… Uh, really think that?" Three asks.
Sheepishly, Eight nods. "I, um… I guess so."
"Three." Four taps her hand against the table twice to get her attention. "You realize you're some variation of angry, like, 75% of the time, right?"
Three's face deepens in hue. Eight's pretty sure her face does the same thing.
"I, you, ummm, Four?" How does Eight word this? "Youuu…"
"Yes, Eight?"
"Iiiiiiii hate you! Thanks so much."
There we go.
Four snorts. "Yeah, you're not the only one."
"... Are you all ready now?" No, Eight doesn't jump like twenty-million feet into the air in surprise because that's stupid and Eight isn't stupid, Eight is intelligent and smart.
Four nods.
"Yeah, can we get an extra large pizza, half pineapple half…" She looks over at Three.
"Uh. Shrimp," she stammers out.
"Half shrimp," Four finishes, infinitely more articulate than Three. "That's all, thanks."
Jacob nods. "Okay, I'll go put that in for you."
They talk a bit more about this and that and everything in between. By the time the pizza arrives, they're all fairly hungry, and it doesn't last pretty long. Eight pays, as promised, and they leave around 8:00 PM.
"So, wha-" Three's cut off by her phone ringing and she groans with a dramatic eye roll. … Well, it's normal for Three, but, like, it's dramatic for everyone else? Checking it, she sighs. "Hold on… Yeah, hi Jarrett. I'm fine, thanks for asking…" She walks a little bit away from Four and Eight and leans against the side of Sand Dollar as she talks.
"... Well." Eight looks over at Four. "While she's doing that, I got a question for you."
Eight does not know what the question is, but she's a little scared. She's seen that look in Four's eyes once or twice before, but she never pinpointed what it actually is… Besides a crazed, maniacal, "I'm an evil mastermind" look, but… Four wouldn't be a very threatening villain.
"Hm? Go ahead," Eight replies anyways.
"So…" Four lowers her voice. Spooky. "We aaaall know you're, like, hella into Three, right?"
Eight feels her face heat up.
"I, um…" Well, there's no denying it… Though she wouldn't really word it like that. "I… I guess so…"
Four nods a little. "Right. And literally everyone is aware of that. Like, literally everyone who isn't Three. Fucking moron." Eight lets out a laugh that sounds like a giggle but isn't a giggle because giggling is for losers, okay? "Alright, so, this is going to sound crazy, but Three is also, like,super into you. Don't give me that look, Eight."
"How do you kn-"
"Eight. Come on." Eight sighs quietly. "For starters, Three claims to be super stoic and cool and shit but she's just emotionally constipated. She's really easy to read once you get to know her. And, like, even if I didn't know her for twelve years… It's obvious. Like, really, really obvious. Trust me."
"Fine." She steals a quick glance at Three, and then looks back at Four. "So… Um, what… What do I do?"
"Ask her out." Ah. "We all fucking know she's too stupid to do it herself."
"... What makes you think I'll do any better? Like, I… You know I still don't really, um… Get all of the inkling courting rituals, right?"
"Eight." Four's tone is serious. It's the most serious she's ever been. "It is physically impossible to be worse than Three in this regard. One time in high school she made out with this chick and then had the nerve to ask me if I thought she liked her back." … What.
"Um, it was high school, though, wasn't it? She's… Changed, probably?"
Four laughs dryly. "No. You know how she's, like, a major workaholic? She invests all her time into either working or turfing, so there's absolutely no time for mushy romance shit. I assure you, there's literally no one as stupid as her."
"... Ah." Eight shifts awkwardly. "Um… Okay. I… I'll ask her sometime, maybe…"
"No." Eight blinks. "No, you will."
"... Okay."
Eight hears footsteps. Looking over, she sees a somewhat disgruntled Three walking towards them.
"My boss called, said I'm off tomorrow. He could've fucking texted me, but noooo. " Three rolls her eyes. "Fuck you, Jarrett."
"I, um, that… Congrats?" Eight wishes she could speak right. Because that would be cool. "Um, d-do… Do you want to do something tomorrow, or..?"
Three shrugs. "Yeah, sure."
Four shakes her head 'no.' "I can't, sorry. I have practice tomorrow."
Eight was going to point out the fact that tomorrow is a Wednesday, and Four has practice on Tuesdays and Thursday, but then she understands what Four's hinting at and her face somehow heats up more.
"I, um… Thank- Err, that… That's fine. Have, um, fun, at practice, Four."
Three narrows her eyes.
"Eight, did Four say anything to you..?"
"WHAT NO FOUR WOULD NEVER, HAHA, ANYWAYS, ARE WE GOING, OR, YEAH?"
"You're such a shitty liar," she mutters beneath her breath. "Whatever."
"Oh, actually, this reminds me…" Four checks her phone. Eight can the screen from where she is. She doesn't have any new notifications. "I walked here, and Pearl dropped Eight off… I don't know where she lives, though. Can you, like, drop her off?"
"What? No, no, it's fine, I can just call Pearl-"
"I'll take you, it's cool."
"Thanks so much, Three." Eight watches her face flush deep marigold.
"It's nothing," she mutters, eyes darting to the ground.
And if Eight grabs Three's hand while they walk?
… Well, that's her secret to keep.