…But I also noticed something…strange. Something…I can't explain.

Well, spit it out, man!

I—I—I can't seem to locate our heat signature.

It was reliable anyway; Marceline had to give it that. And familiar…and comfortable, even though that familiarity and comfort came at a steep, mind-numbing price. It really was amazing how quickly one's mood could change from one moment to the next. In one moment, she had been absolutely exuberant, completely invested in all the work that she and her young friend had put into this crazy, spontaneous personal project, and curious to see how far he had come in such a short time. And in the next she was frustrated and confused, questioning herself more than anything or anyone else.

In a way, Finn had taken her down with him. Student and teacher an embarrassment both to themselves and to the vast majority of the Candy Kingdom. She wondered why she cared so much about what those repulsive plebeians thought anyway. They occupied such little space in her life.

And then, because things tended to happen in patterns, the phone rang. She picked it up, well aware of whom it would be.

"Marceline, I'm calling to apologize," Finn said, with an enviable confidence. "Properly."

"…Alright," She replied, somewhat hesitantly.

"I should have considered your feelings. And not just yours, either…I wasn't saying anything bad...I didn't think it would be a big deal. I guess I was wrong."

She sighed.

"It's okay. I might've…overreacted a bit. I usually do. I just…why did you think it would be a good idea to include our names? Writers can imply things, Finn. You can still write a song about someone…just try to make it a little more discreet next time."

"I was just trying to follow your teachings," He said. "You told me to make something personal. To be honest and open."

"I did say that, didn't I," Silence from her side of the line. "Y'know, I'm starting to think this was a mistake. My mistake. Not yours. I mean, me, a teacher?"

She laughed. It was short, strangled, and slightly hysterical.

"I mean, how the heck am I supposed to teach anyone anything?"

"Marceline, you better squash that jazz right now," Finn's voice was again strong and commanding, and it surprised her a little.

"I learn stuff from you all the time, just from being around you," He said. "You're brilliant, and funny, and super cool. Before you started teaching me, I was just a pathetic, poopy, rhythmless diaper baby. And I just performed a three-verse rap on stage in front of hundreds of people! Okay, so maybe my flow wasn't all that great, and my voice was a little shaky, but I didn't mess up once. I never could've done that two weeks ago."

Finn waited anxiously. His enthusiasm died fast when he heard faint sobbing coming from the other end.

"See?" She asked weakly. "This is exactly what I'm talking about. I'm supposed to be the adult here. I should be the one making you feel better about stuff, not the other way around."

"But—" He protested. "Those things I said are still true, right?"

"No, Finn, they're not." She attempted to compose herself the best she could. "You could've gotten the same results with anyone else. You were able to do all this because you are amazing. And the fact that it only took you two weeks—less than two weeks—only proves my point. You took the initiative to learn. You chose to be in the show. All I did was share what I know, and that's the least a teacher can do."

And he said nothing to that, mainly because there was very little he could think of to say. He wished he was there in person, so he could at least hold her. After a considerable period of time, Marceline decided to dispel the silence. She deeply regretted the things she had just said.

"Hey, so, do you wanna come over and watch Heat Signature?"

"…Sure."

(Transition)

So he came over and they watched the movie she had previously viewed ad nauseam, but which was made considerably better with another person to poke fun at its clichés and ridicule its poorly groomed actors and their egregious performances. And the two of them laughed and joked, and ate popcorn and listened to music—and Finn mostly forgot about their previous conversation. Eventually they even reconvened their lessons, albeit less frequently, and life in Ooo passed pretty much as it always had. Finn and Marceline remained friends, and very little would ever get in the way of that.