Three ran along the narrow platforms, hostile purple ink flying around her and trying to block her path. She had to spend precious ink to let herself keep moving. She was surrounded on all sides. She had been careless, again.

If I get out of this, Callie and Marie will never let me hear the end of it.

One octoling jumped down in front of her, trying to take her down with a physical strike before she could react. Three ducked and rolled, just managing to avoid the strike, then spun around and emptied her tank onto the octoling, splatting her.

It had been the first of her opponents she had seen up close. Reddish tentacles, and no decorations or markings that she had been able to see in the brief glimpse before she evaporated, just the standard armour and goggles. It meant she wasn't dealing with elites. If she had, she would probably be dead now.

More appeared in front of her. She must have been close to getting away because they were making more desperate moves. Three had only been able to recover a small amount of ink though, so she would have to rely on hand to hand.

The two octolings in front of her opened fire. They were both carrying the standard octoshots and their aim was pretty good.

Three grunted as one shot hit her left shoulder but pressed forward at her best speed, keeping low and dodging as best she could, making herself a difficult target. Once she got close she attacked one of the octolings directly, knocking their weapon aside and striking the chin with a fist.

The octoling staggered, stunned, and Three pushed her towards the other octoling, using her as a shield. The other octoling didn't seem to care and simply opened fire. Of course, friendly ink wouldn't harm her comrade.

Three's "shield" cried out as her comrade's fired into her back, unable to hit Three. Three then ducked between her shield's legs and jumped up in front of the shooting octoling.

Three knocked her weapon out of her hands and went for the octoling's nose, but her blow was deflected and she only managed to graze her cheek.

The octoling struck back, managing a quick punch to Three's chest that her agent gear wasn't able to fully absorb. Her lungs reacted painfully but Three ignored it and managed to kick the octoling in the gut, hard. The octoling sailed backwards and landed unconscious on the ground.

Three whirled around, expecting her "shield" to have recovered and try to strike her from behind, but the girl was still lying on the ground. In fact, her goggles had partially come off, leaving a single familiar eye staring up at her.

"Eight?" She couldn't believe it. What was Eight doing in that uniform, fighting against her? Why hadn't she put up a better fight?

She looked back at the other octoling and her goggles were off completely, having flown off her face from the force of her kick. Those some familiar eyes stared up at the sky blankly.

It was Eight again. How?

Then she found herself surrounded again. All of the other octolings removed their goggles and revealed themselves as Eight. Were they clones? Sisters? What was going on. How was this possible?

"Why did you kill me?" They all asked. "I trusted you. Am I just the same as every other octoling to you? Is this how you see me?"

"No!" Three cried, turning around and around, the faces around her all staring blankly. They started to blur as they seemed to spin around her.

"I loved you, I trusted you. You betrayed me."

"No, I-I didn't mean to! Please! You were attacking me and-."

"I loved you! Are you not capable of loving someone else? You never trusted me, did you?"

"Of course I trusted you!" The faces were so blurry now that she couldn't tell one from another, and she started to feel sick.

"You've already killed me so many times. You don't deserve my love. You can only kill us, hurt us. Your mother hatched an ice-blooded murderer."

Something in Three snapped. Her mantle flared to a volcanic red and she lifted her hero shot, beak gritted tightly, her eyes were hard as diamonds.

"Don't you talk about my mother!"

"You're mother really was a shuunkri. Look at you. Had she been anything else she would have produced a better person."

"Shut up!" Three screamed and opened fire, spraying her hero shot full of ink at the blob of Eights in her vision. She kept shooting until her tank ran dry and the spinning stopped.

She panted heavily and looked around her. The remains of over a dozen Eight's lay around her. Three felt faint as the horror of what she had just done dawned on her. She had just killed Eight a dozen times over, without even thinking. What had she been doing?

She spotted a severed head looking up at her and smiling cruelly. "You see? You kill so easily. You say you trust me, that you don't hold me being an octoling against me, but look how easily you killed me. Admit it, you love killing me."

"No!"

Three sat up, panting heavily, and her funnel oozing thick, warm ink that soiled her bedsheets.

She looked rapidly, back and forth in the darkness of her bedroom, the only light being the streetlamps outside filtering through her curtains.

"Just a bad dream," Three mumbled, feeling embarrassed at herself for freaking out.

She groaned and rubbed her eyes. She was no stranger to nightmares, they had plagued her her whole life, particularly after her mother's death. After she became an agent, they became more prevalent until she became close to Callie and Marie and they chased the bad dreams away. Lullabies, hugging, cuddling, somehow they always managed to keep the night nasties at bay to the point where she rarely had them anymore. Ever since she had agreed to let Eight date her though, they had been coming back, and with a vengeance.

Three rubbed her hands over her face and looked at the glowing red digits on her alarm clock. They read 03:00. Seeing the numbers made Three groan and wonder if she would get any more sleep. She certainly wouldn't with soiled sheets.

Grunting, Three tossed her old covers aside and stood up, taking a moment to rub her beary eyes again then removed her sheets. She carried them downstairs and dumped them in the laundry hamper then retrieved fresh linen from the closet. All the while, she thought about that dream.

It seemed ridiculous. She should have known it was a dream when multiple Eights appeared. And why would Eight be attacking her in the first place? Eight would never go back to her old life. It made no sense.

But I still killed her so easily. She thought. Her mother had always been a sore point, but surely she wouldn't have lost her cool so easily outside of the dream. She had managed to keep it together during the car incident.

As Three remade her bed, she thought about the dream Eight's accusations.

Murderer, killer, lyer, betrayer. 'You love killing me.'

Three didn't, she didn't love killing at all. The guilt had kept her up more nights than she cared to remember, and then she would often have to get up and kill some more the next day. It didn't do much good for her disposition and Callie and Marie had often needed to soothe her, either after a mission or before she went to sleep.

She didn't like killing, it still bothered her, but she had gotten used to it. That was her only explanation. She hadn't become numb to it, but she had gotten used to it. Captain Cuttlefish had told her once, very somberly, that it was normal. You got used to killing after you had enough practice, but the guilt could still come back to haunt you and he warned her to be careful of that. The nightmares the guilt had generated had proven his words true.

Captain Cuttlefish had really become a grandfather to her, Callie and Marie had become sisters and Four, her little sister. They had become a second family, true family, anu eelae.

'Are you capable of loving someone else?' The dream Eight's voice echoed in her head.

Of course she could. She loved her iya and dad dearly. She loved Callie and Marie with all her heart and soul. Four was the little sister she never had growing up and loved her as such.

'You never trusted me, did you?'

That baleful accusation from the dream Eight gnawed at her. She did trust Eight, with her life; although, she honestly didn't know her that well. But it was hard to know someone who was in the process of discovering themselves through the new possibilities presented by Inkopolis.

Still, there was always that nagging doubt whenever she was with Eight, an uncertainty she couldn't quite identify. Almost every time she was with Eight, particularly alone, her guard would go up. Was it really just because Eight was an octoling?

Every octarian wants me dead, even the ones here, even the ones that I didn't fight, they wish I was dead. Every octarian would kill me if they had a good chance to do it.

That was just how it was, that was just how terrified and frightened of her that octarians had become.

'The moment you let your guard down is the moment you die.' The words of her master, the one who had taught her physical combat and many things beyond.

As Three slid back into bed, she wondered if she could let her guard down around Eight.

But she could have killed me plenty of times and she didn't, Three thought. She trusts me and I trust her, so why do I still have this uneasy feeling around her? Maybe it's just stress?

She didn't know, and as even as she stared up at the darkness of her bedroom ceiling, no other answers that seemed as reasonable came to her, and as sleep finally claimed her again she thought, Eight is my friend. I trust her… I trust her...

Eight held her breath as she carefully brought the razorblade down. It was her first time doing this and she didn't want to mess it up.

The razorblade finally touched the surface and she carefully pushed it forward. It cut underneath the softness and started to peel it away. To Eight's relief, she wasn't leaving any obvious scratches.

She finally released her breath and felt some confidence return, continuing to scrape off the material and trying to guess its makeup.

It wasn't rubber. Cork perhaps? It did seem to crumble a little bit as she scraped it off the iron surface it was stuck to. Hard to believe that it could withstand such heat and pressure. Perhaps inklings were more ingenious than even they believed.

"It is coming off quite easily here." She looked over to her right where Three sat. Between them was the cast iron engine block of Three's mother's car. The engine had been stripped down to its individual parts and the two of them were currently scraping the remains of the head gaskets off the engine block with small razor blades.

Three's only response was a flash of green from her mantle, something Eight had learned to read as either "yes" or simply an acknowledgement. Pearl tended to rely more on her mouth to communicate than most inklings, something which Four enjoyed making jokes about at the former's expense. Three was the opposite, relying more on Tuk'yan, and Eight couldn't help but feel like her inability to read and understand it was an annoyance to her, because it forced her to speak in order to effectively communicate.

But Eight hadn't exactly been a chatterbox throughout her life either. Where her peers would huddle together, chatting about anything that came to mind, gossiping, Eight would often be by herself, head on the surface - or in the clouds as they said in Inkopolis, and dreaming of far off places and how life might be different.

Now I'm wondering how this relationship might be different.

Despite how she used to be, being around Pearl and Four often enough tended to loosen one's lips over time, and asking constant questions about the surface world had also made it easier for her to start a conversation.

"Do you know what you are going to go when you finish fixing the car?" She asked. "Will you race it?"

Three flashed red. "I'll never race this. This is Mama's car, and I don't want to risk it getting smashed."

"Then, no touge runs?"

Three hesitated for a moment. "Maybe." And that was the end of the conversation.

Eight withheld a sigh. It was always like this. She would try to start a conversation, it would go back and forth a few times and then Three would end it there. It certainly didn't feel like the kind of interaction two friends would have, not unless one of them was in a bad mood.

And she never asks about me. I know I'm the one who confessed and I know she wasn't able to give me a proper answer but am I not worth asking about? Not worth talking to?

Still, at least she was getting to know Three a little better. In addition to little tidbits from their brief conversations, Three had some interesting physical habits.

Her face tended to get smudged by her dirty hands because the intense focus of her work made parts of her face itch, and the little pouts she made when she got just a little frustrated made Eight giggle on the inside.

"How are you girls making out?"

Eight and Three both looked up. Rex, a blue inkyar in his forties, made his way around the shell of the car to the back of their little garage space, careful not to step on any of the components strewn about the floor.

"Oh, we are not doing that," Eight said, heat rising to her face. "We are working and I cannot imagine this would be a great place to do that, and our faces are filthy."

Rex stopped and stared at her, eyebrows raised and then he laughed. "I don't know if what you said was funnier or the fact you said it with total seriousness."

Eight frowned, confused by his reaction. She glanced sideways and saw Three looking away from her, mantle light blue with little blotches of pink.

Smod, I messed up.

"We're just cleaning the old head gaskets off," Three answered hastily.

Rex knelt down beside Three and examined her work. Meanwhile Eight ran through her Inklish lexicon again to figure out what went wrong.

Everytime she thought "making out" she imagined people kissing, just as she had seen on TV. Stupid idioms. She decided to break it down.

Making… creating, building, manufacturing, crafting, constructing… Creating out? No, that doesn't make any sense. Building out? That does make sense, I suppose. Building outwards? Building upon? Building away? Building further? How are we building further? Was he referring to our relationship or-.

Eight smacked herself in the head. Rex hadn't been talking about her and Three kissing; he was asking how the work on the engine was going. No wonder Three had been annoyed.

Eight hung her head in shame. Another blunder.

I really would like to kiss her though.

"And how are you doing?'

Eight jerked as she noticed Rex kneeling down to inspect her work.

He hummed and ran his hands over parts of the engine block that she had scraped. "You don't want to leave any residue on there. It has to seal nice and tight. You can scour it later but you still have to get most of it off."

Eight wet her lips. "Yes, I understand. Um… I did not mean to cause any misunderstandings. I am very sorry.

He chuckled and ruffled her tentacles affectionately. "Don't worry. You're a nice girl and you're doing a good job. Lil' Corti wouldn't let you work on it if she didn't trust you to do good work, and you two are doing really good for amateurs."

Eight saw Three's face tighten as her cheeks warmed. No, they were already blue.

"Uncle, don't call me that."

He laughed. "Awww, you used to let me call you that all the time. You even liked it. Besides, not like you can actually stop me." He patted her head and Eight clenched her jaw, waiting for Three to tear his hand from his arm. She did not; she only pouted, her mantle turning the colour of red clay. So, Rex left with his hand but Eight couldn't help but feel her own situation had not improved.

It always felt like this. Anytime she thought she understood Inkling language, culture, and protocol well enough, something like this would happen and she would be back to walking on glass.

Why does this have to be so hard? Why don't they have an ordered list of all the rules and procedures to follow in order to initiate courtship?

She had looked, of course; online and in bookstores, but while she was able to find some general advice, there was no clearly defined sequence for her to follow, and Three's lack of communication added to the problem.

Three returned to scraping and Eight did the same. For a good twenty minutes there were no words between them. Other than the sounds from the shop and street outside, the only sounds in the little garage was the scraping of metal on metal as they worked their way through the job.

Eight felt like she was on a grind rail over a pit of spikes. She had erred, and she wasn't sure how to fix the situation. She would have to tread carefully.

The silence stretched on and on and Eight felt her nerves start to fray. Three rarely, if ever, started a conversation so the silence would stretch on almost indefinitely if it were left up to her. But after her offense, Eight didn't feel confident initiating one either and she doubted Three was in the mood to talk.

'If you can't talk, then act. That had been Pearl's advice about what to do in these situations, but what actions could she take? Eight looked around for ideas and her eyes found the thermos resting near the door but it was already empty after their break earlier. That gave Eight an idea.

She stood up and wiped her hands on one of the shop towels. "I will be right back." And then promptly left the garage. She returned with two drinks from the vending machine inside the reception room of Rex's shop.

"I am back." She announced. "I got us some drinks. It has been a while since the thermos ran out." She handed Three a drink of the type she had seen her get several times when they went out turfing together. Three eyed the offered drink and Eight saw her mantle shift beneath the surface, changing texture rather than colour.

Eight felt herself relax when Three accepted the drink and popped it open.

"Thanks," she said.

"You are welcome." Eight smiled, feeling lighter and able to breathe again. She silently thanked Pearl for her advice then sat next to Three, opening her drink as well.

Again, they didn't say anything, but this time the silence wasn't awkward; it was simply contented.

But I need to do better. Eight told herself. Three is giving me the chance to court her but if I mess up too badly she might reject me. I can't make any major mistakes like that again. To do that, I have to figure out ways to know Three better..

Three downed the rest of her drink and then put the can down. She fished inside her pocket and pulled out a small pouch. Eight could hear the soft clinking of coins within.

"Oh, you do not need to pay me back," Eight insisted. "It was a gift."

"I don't want gifts," Three said, then she bit her lip and averted her eyes for a second while her mantle flickered white. "What I mean is, I don't deserve it. Not before I'm really your girlfriend."

Eight was surprised. "You… you actually want to be my girlfriend?"

Three turned her head away, her fingers now gripping her coin pouch tightly. "Is-isn't that what we're trying to find out?"

Eight paused and thought back to the conversation they had those weeks ago when she confessed her feelings for the inkling.

"I suppose, but can friends not buy gifts for each other as well?"

She heard Three grunt in a way that didn't suit her natural voice at all, but as Three put the money away, Eight smiled winningly.

"Don't they hate the idea?" Three asked suddenly.

"Excuse me?" Eight blinked in surprise at Three finally asking her a question.

"The other octolings. Don't they hate you for even trying to date me?"

Eight paused, thinking about the other octolings she actually interacted with. Mostly it was just her former kidnappers and the handful of others that had since joined the group.

"I don't think they really understand that I… am endeavouring to court you. I doubt it will be an issue however, particularly with those who have pledged themselves to you."

Three shifted uncomfortably. Eight knew she wasn't really comfortable with the idea of having a number of people indebted to her in such a way.

"Somehow, I don't think so." She said softly, and then returned to her work.

Eight was a bit disappointed to have the conversation end there but she could tell that it had been heading down a dark road so perhaps it was best. But she could tell that something was bothering Three and wondered what it was.

As Eight returned to her own side of the engine block, her mind wandered, thinking, figuring. She had bested every challenge and task in the Metro, and yet, none of them came even close to the daunting puzzle that was Agent 3.

But I'll break through one day. She silently vowed. I'll pass this test and then we can have a relationship. Just like the loving, saccharine romances she had seen on TV.

She wanted that, she wanted it so badly, and yet, the road to achieving that seemed more vague and undefined every day; more the notion of a path than an actual route. But Eight wouldn't give up. She couldn't give up, she just couldn't. Her soul would not let her.

For Marie Sansea, sleep was something she enjoyed yet often neglected. The life of a night owl who lived the double life of a secret agent and pop culture sensation often meant odd hours and many of them without sleep. Therefore, the few hours of sleep that were of her choosing were precious indeed. Having that precious time disturbed for some reason or another was enough to foul her mood in an instant. In this case, not only did she have to deal with her precious sleep being disturbed, but it was aggravated by another bodily need.

Marie's stomach cared little for her schedule, it's primary function was its sole concern. It growled and rumbled iritably, stirring the young Inkyora awake. Once Marie's mind had been drawn from its brief hibernation and Marie regained full consciousness, she seemed to have forgotten what it was that woke her, annoyed that she had woken sooner than she felt comfortable. She turned onto her other side, and tried to fall back asleep. Her stomach however would not be ignored and it grumbled again. It was her fault it was empty.

Marie hissed, opening heavy eyelids to peer at the glowing green digits on her alarm clock next to the bed.

"Two-thirty in the morning?" She had been asleep for less than three hours and she had to be up in less than four. She had often found it difficult to get back to sleep after waking up in the middle of the night so her prospects of even a decent night's sleep seemed extremely poor. If she was lucky, she might get another two hours of sleep.

Her stomach made yet more sounds of discontent and she angrily tossed off her covers. "Stupid second puberty," she grumbled. Being the bigger, stronger sex had its disadvantages. Males only had to go through it once and much more gradually.

The full moon cast silvery beams through her window. With the superior vision that came with her cross-pupiled eyes, it made the room feel almost like day. Her robe of platinum silk, dangling from the hook on the door of her walk-in closet, seemed to glow in the pale light.

Marie rolled out of bed and took a moment to rub her bleary eyes before standing and retrieving her robe. Her tentacles lifted themselves out of the way as she wrapped it around herself. It was a bit too chilly to be walking around just in her light camisole and pyjama shorts. They were, however, among the few night clothes that still fit her these days.

Marie stepped out into the hallway where the moon's light did not reach. This was not a problem for her, however, as her mantle glowed lime. She didn't need it to be particularly bright to see where she was going, despite the lack of light.

Just ahead and to the left was Callie's room. The door was shut so Marie stopped briefly to press her head to the door, listening for any sounds of distress. Callie had come a long way since her captivity but she still suffered occasional nightmares. Hearing no sounds from inside, she continued on.

She passed the master bedroom on her left, which had been converted into a studio. The corridor then cornered right, with the main bathroom on the right and two guest rooms on the left. But when she turned the corner she saw a glow at the end of the hall. The lights in the kitchen were on. It had to be Callie getting her own nighttime snack. A habit of hers even before they hit second puberty.

Marie turned off her bioluminescence and made her way through the living room to the kitchen.

Clad in a black nightie far too alluring for someone not expecting company in bed, Callie sat at the table hunched over her tablet. The single light directly above glowing harshly to Marie's dark accustomed eyes. Even the glow of the tablet's screen seemed almost blinding before her eyes adjusted.

Marie expected to see the remains of a demolished meal on the table, but she saw only the tablet. There weren't even any signs that there had been a meal. No crumbs, dirty plates, or even the smell of food. Instead, Callie scrolled lazily up and down on her tablet, her brows knitted, and the underlying colour of her dark mantle moved and shifted. She hadn't even noticed she was no longer alone.

Marie moved up behind her and still she didn't notice. Marie used that time to peer over Callie's shoulder and read what was on the screen.

It was a series of numbers and dates arranged in a table like a calendar. Each cell of the table also had notations in small type. Callie scrolled down, revealing an image that was all too familiar to Marie. It was the layout of a large compound, drawn by hand and then scanned electronically. The large rectangle marked "Cell Block A" had the most notations on it, and it was there that Callie's eyes were fixed.

"So that's what's on your mind."

Callie jumped, the back of her head nearly colliding with Marie's chin. She turned around and Marie instinctively moved back to avoid the whip of Callie's long tentacles.

"Marie, don't sneak up on me like that!"

Marie couldn't help but smirk. After all, sneaking up on Callie was one of her guilty pleasures. Besides, it wasn't as if Callie didn't have her ways of annoying her too.

"I wasn't sneaking, you were just absorbed. I wasn't even trying to sneak up on you." She regarded Callie with disapproval. "Did you even go to bed?"

Callie made that face she did when getting caught. "I… didn't feel like sleeping."

Marie crossed her arms. "Callie, I know the information we got today has you worked up but you need sleep. You can't plan an op properly without getting your mind the rest it needs. Three and Four have a joint op tomorrow anyway so we have plenty of time to plan something."

Sighing, Marie forced herself to calm down. It was late and Callie was still sensitive about some things. And, honestly, most of her irritation was due to her gnawing stomach. Callie was just unfortunate enough to be there.

"Sorry, it's just…"

Callie gave her a small smile and grasped her hand. "I know you're worried. I am too. I just want this whole thing to be over and done with."

Marie smirked. "The rescue operation or second puberty?"

Callie chuckled. "Both, I guess." She tugged at her nightie. "I'm glad mom got me this a few sizes too big, but I still don't think it'll be enough."

"It is rather annoying that we have to get whole new wardrobes, but I suppose it can't be helped."

Marie went over to the kettle and filled it with water to boil. Tea always helped relax her and with how little sleep she was going to have she needed all the relaxation she could get. She glanced over at Callie who looked briefly at the tablet once again before turning it off and putting it back in its protective sleeve.

"Maybe we can give Three and Four some of our old stuff as hand-me-downs. It's still fashionable stuff so I don't think they'd mind."

Marie grimaced. "I don't know. Last time Four got clothes from me it didn't work out so well."

Callie tisked. "Marie, that wasn't your fault. It was a problem that already existed. She still got to be the belle of the ball, dance with tons of boys, be the princess. That's not the sort of experience girls like her tend to have. Besides, there's no way you could have known."

Marie turned away, hiding the action by making it look like she was sifting through the cupboards to try and find something to eat.

"I haven't been around much for her lately, have I? She went through all that and I didn't do anything. I didn't even try to talk to her about it since she told us what happened, and the whole time, she seemed more afraid of offending me." Her mantle pulsed blue. "And then Eight got kidnapped and I let myself get caught up in the fallout.

She heard Callie's chair scoot against the floor, meaning Callie had gotten up, then she heard her soft footsteps drawing closer.

Marie turned just as Callie wrapped her in a warm hug and nuzzled the crook of her neck.

"You don't have to be perfect, Marie. Even Four doesn't expect that. She looks up to you and you've never let her down. Stop being so pessimistic. Right now, positivity is what we need."

Marie smiled and hugged Callie back. "Maybe I've just gotten too reliant on you. You've always been the positive one."

Callie laughed. "You did fine without me, so you know you can handle things by yourself if things go belly-up."

"But I'd rather not."

Callie pulled away but kept hold of Marie's biceps. They looked into each other's eyes, and then Callie's flashed with understanding.

"You're talking about Three."

Marie's mantle pulsed grey and blue. "I guess. With as high profile as our lives are and with us losing the protection we have as teens, I feel like if we don't keep the family together, it could be torn apart. Plus, Three's at the age where she needs to start thinking about a career, and she won't be able to do her job as an agent if she's totally occupied doing that."

Callie gave her a huge grin, causing Marie to frown. "What?"

"Well, listen to you. Thinking about our family and keeping us all together. Normally you pretend none of that stuff bothers you or that it's not as big a deal as you really think it is."

Marie's mantle turned maroon and she pouted. "I care. I've always cared."

"I know, but usually you hide it behind snark, salt, and aloofness."

Callie silenced her comeback by pressing a finger to Marie's lips. She smiled sweetly, eyes like warm, golden pools.

"Don't worry; I think it's a good thing. Besides, we really do need Three to be our bodyguard. There's basically nobody else." Callie withdrew her finger and Marie relaxed. "You think she'll accept?"

"I really hope so." Marie whispered. "It would be a load off my mind."

Callie giggled. "Well, I don't know about you, but what's on my mind is food. I'm starving."

Marie laughed. "Figures. If I'm craving a snack, you're craving a banquet."

Callie made an overdramatic expression of offense. "Marie, I am no glutton. I am merely a consumer of greater passion."

Marie's mantle flashed burgundy with spots of bright-yellow, but she smiled. "Whatever you say. But if this keeps up we're going to have to hire somebody just to do grocery shopping."

"They have services for that sort of thing nowadays. If Three really is going to move in here, we'll be running out that much faster, especially when she hits second puberty in a few years."

Marie shuddered. "That's a scary thought. She hasn't even started her cycles yet. We might also have to have a certain talk with her regarding rules about -" she cleared her throat "-bringing company home."

From the stove, Callie looked at her over her shoulder with an amused smile. "Surely you don't have an issue with Eight coming here."

"Not Eight, no, but somebody else, yes."

Callie snorted. "Three? I don't think so. She won't be getting a boyfriend anytime soon and she's almost as much a papa's princess as you."

Marie ignored the comment. It was a jab as old as she was. "It's going to happen eventually, even if Eight does count as both. And we have to figure out how Three is supposed to conduct herself whenever you bring someone."

Callie flashed burgundy and brought her gaze back to the stove. "Because, of course, you would never do such a thing."

"I'm still way too young to marry, so what's the rush? I've had boyfriends before."

"Briefly."

"I'm just not that interested, Callie. I can afford to take my time a little."

"Whatever."

Marie pursed her lips and then walked up behind Callie and hugged her from behind. "Besides, right now, I have all the love I need."

Callie sighed. "Sounds like a line Daddy would use." She giggled anyway and they pressed their cheeks against each other.

"Let's just worry about getting things sorted first. Once that's done, then maybe I'll think about a social life."

Callie grinned. "By the time you do, it might be Three giving you advice."

"And what about you?"

Callie flashed grey. "I guess I'd like to wait for things to settle down first too. Just promise me that you'll at least try to start dating again."

Brown spots appeared in Marie's mantle. "Fine, I promise."

"Good. Now help me out here or we'll be up all night."

Author's Notes:

This is a long one and there's a lot going on, but I hope by now you've all gotten a good idea of what the situation is in this story and the basic struggles within, along with just a hint of mystery and plot to make you wonder what it is I'm really up to, heh heh.