She hadn't been out in weeks. Well—she wasn't exactly sure. Time was never really her thing. If she had to guess, it had probably been about two weeks—maybe three. There was still some food left in the fridge and no one had come looking for her yet. Probably two weeks—maybe. Long enough for her to start feeling bad about staying in, at least.

So she started cleaning. That was what normal people did. They worried about the thin layers of dust that formed on coffee tables and amplifiers. They did something about those sticky spots on the kitchen floor. Of course, being a bit more proactive about them would have made them easier to clean. She'd spent far too long on this one—a stubborn bit of what was once strawberry soda, but was now a substance that could rival the strength and durability of a diamond.

"Stupid," she spat at it. "Stupid, stupid—GET OFF MY FLOOR!"

Her arms trembled and threatened to burst the seams of the old hoodie that contained them. They slipped briefly into inky tentacles, then spouted a wolf's course fur, then the downy coat of a bat before calming back into smooth skin again. Despite the intimidating display, the spot did not relent.

"Fine. You win. I didn't really feel like cleaning anyway," Marceline sighed before floating up and depositing a mostly ruined sponge into the sink.

She drifted back to the living room to stare at her bass again. She wanted to play, but couldn't seem to summon up the energy to even lift it off the stand anymore. She had to, though. Normal people got up and got on with their lives. Normal people would also learn from a thousand years of making the same mistake over and over again, if normal people lived for a thousand years, that is. With a quick intake of unneeded breath, she picked it up and set it across her lap. The weight of it felt good. One strum later and the buzz of it was warm in her chest. It was almost worth it.

"Not like that, dork!" she chuckled. She slide beneath her effortlessly, prompting a cute squeal. Lanky limbs wrapped themselves around flushed pink ones. She matched their fingers as best she could and held the chord for both of them. "If you don't keep your hand relaxed then of course you won't be able to reach. See? No problem."

"Ah! That hurts," Bubblegum complained even as she leaned back into her. "The strings dig into my fingers."

"No one ever said it wouldn't hurt a little. You'll get used to it, babe, or least your fingers will. You gotta practice, and just keep practicing," Marceline advised.

Warm fingers slid their way out from under hers and loomed over them. "Teach me this way," she requested, but by then she had slipped too far back to even see the neck of the guitar.

"Hmm, well then. If that's what you want." Marceline leaned in.

The second strum rang sour and wrong. The poodle whined up at her for it. She didn't even see him come into the room.

"Sorry boy," Marceline apologized before setting the bass back on its stand. "I promise I'll take you for a walk...uh probably soon. I dunno."

He whined again, this time softer.

"I know," she said as she tipped down to scratch between his ears. "I know I always do this. I should know better by now."

Her dull teeth tugged at her lips for far too long. "Sorry," she finally said. "That's just...a big deal. I—I don't really know what to say."

Others had outright laughed at her, so at least it hadn't come to that. Most reciprocated, but didn't really mean it. If they did, it didn't last, at least not long enough to matter. "Look, just pretend I didn't say it—"

A hand stretched out desperately to her lips. "No, no. I mean. It's not a bad thing. I just...I don't know. I don't think I know how to deal with this. I've never said it before."

"Never?"

"No. I...it just—it wasn't something I thought I'd ever," the princess sighed. "It would take years for me to explain."

At least this was a new reaction. Marceline settled on top of her with her best fake grin. She put an elbow on either side of Bubblegum and propped her chin up onto the her palms. "Well, I've got plenty of time."

"Yeah, I'm pretty dumb, huh?"

The poodle didn't offer his opinion. His tail wagged just slightly as he pressed into her gentle scratching.

Marceline sighed yet again. Her house was full of those sighs. It was about time to let them out. She drifted off to grab Schwabl's leash off of its hook by the door. His tail was in overdrive by the time she clipped it onto his collar.

"I really do love her, though. I still do. I know I say that every time. I know," she told him as she opened the door.