Doc's was a great place.

At least, that's what everyone at school always said. But I hated it there.

They said the food was good and the employees were cool/funny/cute/relatives and the upstairs tenants were hilarious and the karaoke nights were worth God Tiering for.

But all I ever noticed was the smell.

Lemon-lime glue striped over with chalky vanilla dust, Rubbery peach sorbet Human skin and leathery plum Troll. Plastic chairs, sticky with syrupy green. Painted glass that clogged my nose with the sweet bitterness of burning butter.

It smelled awful.

I went there a lot, though, because all my friends liked to hang out there a lot after school, and it was, admittedly, kind of fun to try to guess which employee was which based on their uniforms.

Every employee at Doc's Diner wore potato starch white, and the waiters wore licorice-charcoal pants. Their identities were made evident to me through their brightly colored bowties, suspenders, and, for the ladies, aprons.

Their colors smelled delicious. The girls were like pink lemonade and cherry chocolate and fancy sparkling water and spun sugar, and the boys were curry and cloves and artificial flavoring and mangoes, freshly cut.

The mangoes were Dirk. Not quite as mouthwatering as strawberry-cherry-persimmon Dave, but a Strider was a Strider was a Strider, and I had yet to meet one whose scent was disagreeable.

So the people were okay. Fine, even. But the white and green of Doc's itself reeked, like lies and deceit and pretentious omniscience.

.

At first it was just the four of us: Karkat, Sollux, Nepeta and I. Karkat and I had English 2 together, and Nepeta had English 1, right next door. We met up after class and headed out, preparing to hang out at Doc's for a while before heading elsewhere, to while away the time until the Alternian sun flickered out on our hemisphere, so we could go home. But then Nepeta pulled in Equius, who was also in her class, and Gamzee joined out of nowhere, bringing Tavros, and by the time we got there we had also managed to accumulate Eridan and Jade.

It was almost like old times. If, you know, I hadn't been blind and Tavros had been unviolated and Gamzee didn't scare anyone and Nepeta didn't need Equius to function and Jade had been one of us. But, you know, other then that it was exactly like old times.

Doc's was kind of busy that day. Walking in, it smelled like the hallways at school, minus the angst and plus the smell of cooking meat. People were walking in every direction, trailing mists of cream and butter and orange and lemon and vinegar and coffee and cilantro and poppyseed, voices loud and blurring together with the music and sound blasting and zapping from the arcade games lined up along the left wall, as well as the jukebox, which only played things in a crackly, muffled voice.

Karkat found a booth for us by the door. It was already taken by a couple of Humans, but he scared them off, and we managed to just squeeze everyone in, stowing our bags underneath. I ended up by the window, penned in by lemon-blueberry-fennel Jade and across from blackberry cordial Gamzee and ginger-paprika-cinnamon-pepper Karkat.

"So how have you guys been?" Jade began, her shoepolish and asphalt hair brushing my face as she flicked it over her shoulder. "I feel like it's been sweeps since we got everyone together."

"This is hardly 'everyone'," Eridan sniffed, his voice coming to me from somewhere beyond Jade, "and you are hardly part of 'everyone', you pretentiously jade-blooded, moss encrusted cloaca."

Several noises of minor offence followed this fact, though no one quite knew what a cloaca was. It was probably a seadweller thing. I had a feeling that if Feferi had been there, she would have been properly offended.

As it was, Eridan, clearly disappointed with our lack of comprehension, continued, "Furthermore, you Humans and your ridiculous measurement of time have no place to be throwing around terms like 'sweep' when you have no way of even coming close to comprehending how long a sweep actually is."

Jade shrank against me as he spoke, and I could smell embarrassment coming off her, like an ammonia cloud staining the air.

"Shut up, shitsponge," Karkat snapped. "We aren't here for your stupid highblood racism, and this isn't your precious show, Highbloods at High Tide, alright, bulgescrape?"

"Hey," Gamzee said suddenly, turning away from the bright window, which he had been staring through (at? I couldn't tell) the entire time. "Highbloods is a quality show, brother."

Equius made a sound of agreement while Karkat snorted and muttered "Must be an idiot thing".

We were silent then, and I lost track of time. A garlic and cheese waitress who was actually a male Human I didn't know but wore the waitress uniform all the same came and went. We ate diner-y things, fries and shakes and sundaes and pie. Nepeta and Equius faded into the background, their voices and scents more blurry than usual. Gamzee slurped chocolate milk, head lowered enough that his bangs-long, sunbaked curls of tar-touched the rim of his glass. Beside him, Karkat munched fries, dipping them first into something new, a bright, salty red. I stole a few, and reveled in the sensory contrast of hot yellow grease and cool red somethingnew. I myself had ordered a plain dish of vanilla ice cream, which cooled me from the inside out, freezing my tastemuscle and burning my teeth. The ice white was more cold than flavor, but the surrounding smells would have been too much if it weren't.

After a while, Tavros spoke up, but he was three bodies away and I couldn't smell him at all. Every smell kept changing with my surroundings, and all manner of colors were bouncing back at me from the reflection of the window beside me, and every movement Karkat or Gamzee or Jade made wafted different smells toward me, so strong that I couldn't tell, scent-wise, that anything existed beyond our table.

"I, uh," began Tavros' voice, at the same time that something touched my leg under the table, "um, actually, did you guys hear about the, uh," it touched me again, more insistently. I kicked it, and it kicked me back, hard. I concluded 'it' to be Gamzee's leg, and I gave myself a mental pat on the back for not having to lick anything to figure it out. "The crimes that have been, um, happening, lately? Like, at night?"

Fucking Gamzee. I shot him a face, and didn't bother waiting for a reaction.

"Crimes?" I said, as his foot pinned mine to the wall. "What kind of crimes? Illegal crimes?" I reached down, feigning an itch, and punched him square in the knee, which was a lot closer than it had any business being, due to his stupidly long legs and the way he had slouched down in his seat. His knee was also very pointy, and I could almost taste his gloating smirk when I scowled in pain and shook out my hand.

"No, uh, I think it's more like breaking and entering? I guess?" Tavros was saying. I was almost listening. Gamzee's harsh scent, all black cherry and cheap sugar and stale air, was invading my sniffnodes.

"Like, there's just someone who keeps breaking into all these shops and stores and stuff, but nothing ever gets stolen. I mean, uh, that's what I heard, anyway..."

"It's a mewstery!" Nepeta cried, adding a certain energy to the group that had been absent before. "Purrhaps we should furrm a ritualistic bicornbeast hunting patrol and wait in the purraditional furrmations to discofurr who it is!"

I placed my feet atop Gamzee's, propping my toes on his shins.

"A what?" Jade said, sounding dazed. Poor Jade. It wasn't her fault Humans had such a limited vocabulary.

"Stakeout," I clarified, as the toe of Gamzee's sneaker found the end of my shoelace, trapping it in place as his other foot, with mine still on top, pulled away.

As my shoe was agonizingly slowly untied, Karkat said, "What, here at Doc's?" and his sneer smelled like contempt. "Just hide here until after hours and wait all fucking night in the dark for someone who may or may not even show up? Sounds like a really fucking great waste of my time! Let me just grab my fucking portable recooperasack."

Unlike Jade, Nepeta was unfazed by harsh words. She merely shrugged, and I thought I heard her hum a little.

Then we were silent once more, and Gamzee stared passively at (through?) the window as I retied my shoe.

After a few minutes, Eridan spoke up again.

"Well, this has been a blast, but Highbloods is gonna start soon." He paused, like he was expecting some big reaction. When there was none, he said, "Coming, Equ?"

I tuned out of the conversation, thinking instead about the criminal acts Tavros had mentioned. It could have been just a dumb rumor, but I couldn't be sure. I never watched Human television. If it had been a big news story, I wouldn't know. I decided to check if my omnivision could even get Human channels when I got home. Not that I ever watched it, for obvious reasons. I could listen to it, I supposed.

Meanwhile, Eridan and Equius had gone, and Gamzee was saying, "...killed off my favorite character last week."

As he said this, his foot was once more engaged in the act of Bothering Me. He slyly scooped my hooves forward with his, his sneakers forming a corral for my saddle shoes. I curled my lip at him.

After a short silence, during which Gamzee and I kicked each other a lot, Karkat said, "Okay, what the FUCK is going on with you two!?"

"Who, me?" I said, at the same time Gamzee did. Damn.

"Yeah," Sollux said, from the other side of Jade. "You two are making a lot of weird faces."

Gamzee's shrug sent a silky wave of mulberry wine over me.

"I dunno about her," he said. "I'm just sitting here."

Wow. Way to throw me under the transportation device, you eternal greasenub.

"How should I know if I'm making a face?" I said. "I'm blind, remember?"

Jade laughed at that, and Karkat snorted. Sollux said, "yeah, I'm so sure," and I poked Gamzee's leg as savagely as I dared, earning a sharp kick from him.

"If I were to make any faces, Karkles," I hissed, rubbing my shin, "they would be at you." I winked my flirtiest wink at him, and I could almost taste the sugary stain to his frond nubs. Gamzee kicked me again, and I showed him my teeth. He had no place to be jealous of my matesprit, especially since we were making no secret of our quadrantship. I smiled a coy smile at him and hid it behind the cuff of the jacket I wore, which so happened to be Karkat's varsity qacket.

Nepeta, now sitting beside Karkat, apparantly oblivious of the game of musical quadrants we were playing right beside her, said, "Meow I'm short one fur my roleplay session later."

Tavros said, "Uh, I might be, maybe, a little bit interested in that..."

Gamzee smelled like rotting plums, and Karkat like walnuts and sugar. Gamzee was all dark displeasure, and Karkat was glowing pride.

Nepeta's voice was so bright I could almost smell her scales burning, "Really? You're into roleplay, Tavros?!"

I tried not to hate her for conveniently forgetting, as everyone seemed to be, that I was into roleplay just as much as the next Troll. More, probably. I winked at Karkat again, and Gamzee jostled my leg with his, vying for attention, and I didn't try to hide the smug grin that slipped out. He was so pathetic when he was jealous.

"Well, uh, I mean, I don't have too much real experience with it with other people, but, um, it might be kinda cool."

"There's so much to teach you, then!" Nepeta cried, sounding distressed. "Oh dear..."

"Actually," said Jade, almost shyly, "I have been known to roleplay, now and then. Maybe I could help? I mean, I don't know much about Troll roleplay, but..."

"That's a lie," I said, and the Human stiffened beside me.

"Which part?" Karkat asked sharply, and I felt five pairs of eyes I couldn't see on me.

"Dunno," I shrugged, "but I can smell it. You smell like deceit, Human." And I don't want to play your stupid Human roleplay game, anyway, thanks for asking.

She murmured something in a small voice as she went to get up, displacing Sollux on the way. So he got up and let her out, and then sat back down right next to me. He smelled like lemon and ginger and mint and honey and overripe bananas. But his scent wasn't too strong, and with Jade's and Nepeta's and Tavros' aromas gone,I was suddenly attacked on all sides by the putrid sour milk greens and whites of Doc's.

"Whoa, TZ, you don't look so good," Sollux said, peering close to my face, his stale scent, now lemonade-strawberry-copper, invading my space in a way Jade's hadn't. "You're all teal."

"I'm fine," I lied, pushing him away. "I'm just blushing, imagining all the things me and Karkles are going to do later."

"T-Terezi!" Karkat's blush was bright, and I did my best to aim another wink his way. The smell of that place was making me feel like hurling.

Sollux laughed. "Hey, speaking of later, d'you guys want to swing by that arcade over by Strider's?"

I perked my listencones at this. Gaming with Sollux was usually a blast, and I was kind of desperate to get out of Doc's.

"What's wrong with this place?" karkat said, his pomegranate spice cake upper appendage sweeping towards the other end of the diner, where I knew from past investigation that there were a few arcade games including Bonka, Pac-Man, Sam Spade, Tetris, Space Panic, and Hektik.

"This place is OK," Sollux said, "but that other place has Galaga and Space Invaders, and they just got a brand new Tomb Raider."

"Whoa," Karkat breathed. "I'm there. Let's go right now."

They got up, and Sollux said, "Coming, Gamz?"

"I'm cool," Gamzee replied, poking gently at my foot with his. "Maybe I'll swing by later."

"Hey!" I blinked at Karkat, or what I hoped was Karkat. He was too far away to be accurate. "What about me!?"

"Terezi..." the sound of his voice helped me correct myself. Damn, how come I can never get it quite right? "You wouldn't want to hang out with us," he said. "It wouldn't be fun."

He was lying. I could smell it, like burning hair.

"Why don't you want me to come?" I was whining, but I couldn't help it.

"The truth is, TZ," Sollux said, "no one really wants to play with you when you lick the screen."

They left, and it took all I had not to scream "I CAN'T READ THINGS UNLESS I LICK THEM," after them. My face felt hot, and my sightless spite orbs burned with tears.

Gamzee must've been staring, but he at least had the decency not to say anything while I rubbed furiously at my face, willing the tears not to fall. We sat in silence for a while, until a salty rock candy waitress I'd never smelled before leaned up against the edge of the table, snapping a berry bubblegum bubble before speaking.

"So're you flushed beakbeasts gonna order, or…?"

"Yeah," Gamzee said with a killer smile. I'm pretty sure all highbloods have naturally seductive smiles. "I would like a bitchy, nosy, unwanted waitress. They got any here?"

She smiled back, like a mouthful of glass, and I smelled poison.

"In that case, babe," she said, "I'm your gill."

They stared each other down for a minute, and then she blew another bubble.

"Got any more stupid-ass greaseblood wisecracks? Or can I go play slave to some other table?"

"Actually," I said, "can I see a menu?"

She handed a greasy laminated thing to me with an impatient flick of her gold bangle-clad wrist, and I wasted no time slathering my tongue all over it.

Suddenly, it was like my eyes had remembered what sight was. Everything my tongue touched was crystal clear, from the forest green background to the salty white text to the little lines through the dollar sign S's to the fancy brackets around the dessert section. I could even see where someone had manually added an extra "Pumpkin" option in orange to the bottom of the tea list.

And the prices! No one had ever told me that Doc's accepted everything from Boondollars to Pounds to Bits to Pieces of Eight, and so much in between! Sight was a beautiful thing! And if I had to see it through the faint teal hue of my own saliva, who cared?

Everyone, apparently.

I made sure to liberally douse every inch of the menu, even going over some parts twice, before handing it back.

"Thanks," I grinned, and Gamzee laughed. Not his usual creepy psychopath killer clown laugh, but an actual laugh, and by the sound of it, I wasn't the only one it surprised.

The bubblegum bitch waitress took the menu back with a disgusted groan. "Ain't'cha gonna order someshit?"

I screwed up my face into what felt like a thoughtful pout.

"Nah," I said, "nothing here is really to my taste."

He laughed again, and I joined in, and by the time we stopped she had gone.

"Who was that boysenberry slither creature?" I asked. "I mean, I could tell she was wearing a nametag, but full-frontal licking's not usually something I do on the first date."

"Meenah," Gamzee's tone was casual, like he could care less. "Think she's like Feferi's evil alternate timelinespawn or something."

I stared at where she'd been standing, reeling in shock. I seriously doubted anyone that bitchy could be related to tree-hugging Feferi.

"I am kinda thirsty, though," I murmured, swallowing a wave of nausea, stronger than the previous ones had been, threatening to overthrow me. I felt positively green.

Gamzee said quietly, "You don't look so good, sister."

I shut my eyes, as though it would make any sort of difference. "I'm fine."

I gripped the table's edge, the grey of my knuckles whitening. I could feel his stare, but I could spare no comments. If I opened my mouth even the barest inch, I feared, the contents of my churnsack would spew everywhere. Since I hadn't eaten anything all day, I just knew it would hurt like hell.

It wasn't long until I couldn't stand it any longer. I sucked in one last sticky, creamy breath and held it, clapping one claw over my protein chute and prey sniffer to help, and prepared to dash blindly—in every sense of the word—for the door. But before I could jump up, Gamzee pushed something into my other hand.

"Open it," he said, his voice urgent and unusual. So against my better judgment I released my held breath and drew another. I pushed through the diner's stench—stronger than ever—and made out the vague shape of him, stretched across the table, hand still poised toward me. And in my hand, a plastic bottle full of something an unnatural orangey pink.

"Open it," he said, grabbing my other hand and curling it around the plastic cap. I did, and regretted it instantly.

The contents of the bottle fizzed up, spilling over my hand and across the table. It pooled and spread, dripping off the edge, spilling stickily into my lap.

And then the smell hit me.

Hard and acrid, it stung the back of my throat and smelled like rotting fruit. It was so strong and thick, I felt like I was going blind all over again just smelling it.

It was awful, but it was strong enough to block out most of the green and white rivers of scent the diner was giving off.

"Better?" he said, voice still soft and strange, and my "yes" came out breathier than I'd have liked. But at least I didn't have to hurl anymore.

"Thank you," I said, and took a drink without thinking.

It was disgusting. I only took one swallow, but the result was horrible and immediate. My cartilage nub felt like an ancient machine screaming and shuddering to a grinding halt, and my skin scales stood up as a shiver of pure ice swept all the way from the tips of my horns to the razor edges of my claws. I hissed as my lancinating phalanges and spinal crevices arched as one, my whole body reacting to less than one second of what felt like pure adrenaline. Then it was gone, leaving me only with sore joints and an icy headache between my auricular sponge clots.

I coughed, shoving the bottle away. My insides were like ice, my nose burning like fire.

"Sorry," Gamzee said, and I could hear a smile in his voice. Not the magnetic highblood one, but his signature clown one. The one so wide and fangy it looked like a mask. The bastard. "You weren't supposed to drink that one. Peach is kinda strong for beginners, especially warm."

I shot him a look, but forgot to add the venom when I realized I could see him—not as clearly as I would have with working sightspheres, but much clearer than usual.

Where before there had been only a dusty, chalky, smoky mass of what I knew was hair encircling his head, my nose now showed me the way it curled around his horns and ears and cheeks, the way it swirled and spiraled and shone in the dull light. I smelled the difference in fabric between the polo shirt and sweater he wore, the black and white polka dots of the shirt, the dusty black and indigo sweater, the Capricorn symbol hand-stitched into its front. And I could see his eyes, which was kind of a big deal since I hadn't seen eyes since my days of actual seeing. Even the most forgiving of friends weren't usually down with having someone lick their eyes.

Gamzee's were wide and pale. I guess I would have expected them to be darker, like wine, but they were lavender, or paler. They were like the little star-shaped elderflowers that grew in clumps behind the school.

I stared at him, at his eyes, and wondered if anyone had ever told him they were beautiful. It was suddenly sort of important to me that he knew.

"Sis...?" Gamzee's tone was cautious, and I realized I was staring like a freshly hatched crawler. So I shut my eyes, which did nothing to effect how clearly I was seeing everything, but probably made me look less like a fool.

"Give me more," I said, and his surprised grin was infectious. From beneath the table he produced his school-smelling bag, which turned out to contain nothing but a colorful array of those plastic bottles.

My first question was, "Where's all your school stuff?" my second was, "Isn't that heavy?"

His fangs were like a soft butter cream as he bared them to me in response, handing over an unopened bottle as he did so.

I applied my tongue to the label. It read:

Big 24 oz.
Genuine
Faygo
Dee-licious
Pineapple

Though the yellows and greens of the plastic tasted much more like mango than pineapple.

I opened it, careful of the carbonation this time, and took a cautious (but not too) gulp.

BLUH! It was so sickly sweet, the artificial pineapple clung heavy to my tongue, like a live grub. Dee-licious my ass.

I shoved it back, and he gave me another without hesitation.

This one claimed to be Orange! flavored, but it was almost as bad as the pineapple. Then I tried "Moon Mist" (which tasted nothing whatsoever like that peppermint milk orb in Earth's orbit), Creme Soda! and Grape!

I was starting to notice that this "Faygo" brand seemed to have a particular affinity for exclaiming things.

"Don't you have anything red?" I asked, as none of the flavors so far had done much to impress.

He rolled his eyes and dug into his bag once more, and I was astounded at actually having seen someone do it, for once, instead of having to listen for exasperation in their voice.

He handed over a Redpop! and it was just right. Not too heavy, not too sugary, just... red.

I grinned at him, thankful, and he responded with an expression I'd never seen before. One of confusion, maybe, or approval.

We sat there for a while, drinking and talking about anything we could think of. Our friends, our classes, our lives, our Lusii. It didn't seem like we were there for very long, but all at once, it seemed , the light slanting across our table had gone and the diner itself had gone from stuffy and hot to cool and quiet.

Then Mysterybitch Meenah the waitress returned. This time I was prepared, and could pick out similarities to Feferi. Her apron and bowtie matched Feferi's blood, and their horns seemed to be the same general shape. It was obvious to me now, too, that she was of seadweller descent.

"OK wrigglers," she said, voice snarky. "We're closing in thirty. So get out or get thrown out, ya dig?"

"Ya know what I would 'dig'?" Gamzee said loftily. "You leaving us the motherfuck alone."

She smiled her shark smile and spoke through her teeth. "Look, you little saltstain, don't think I'm above culling a dirty little barnacle like you, even if you are an indigoblood. If I weren't on the clock, I'd stab holes in you and your little seafoam matesprit right now."

Gamzee growled at her then, a territorial snarl that smelled angry. Her impatient frown turned to a challenging grin, and a long, sharp, double-ended trident dropped heavily from her captchalogue to her hand.

"Just try it, clownfish," she said, lowering herself into a fighting stance. But before Gamzee even had a chance to access his own weapon, a male shout cut through the tension, overruling even the intense strife music coming from the jukebox.

"MEENAH!"

It was the garlicky honey-carrot smoothied human from before, a bittersweet candy exterior that cut my mouth up with its scent. Incredibly enough, I could just make him out a few yards away, beside the soda counter. Behind it was Dirk, smelling like fresh fruit after a rain, like dirt and autumn and green, growing things. Like a fresh pumpkin pie, or a squash cut in half.

"What did I tell you about starting fights during hours?" the carrot human said. He was using that exact tone human mothers do on TV when their grubspawn track mud into the hive. House. Whatever.

Meenah hissed and him, gesturing angrily at Gamzee. "This little brinering snake-eyes octopus piece of indigo trash is asking for it!"

The human made an exasperated noise and gestured, but he was too far away for me to identify the movement.

"You hurt one more customer, Peixes, and you're fired."

She grumbled some more and threw her trident in his and Dirk's direction, captchaloguing it again before it could do any harm. She stalked away then, and both humans as well as the carrot human's voice followed, asking things like "Didn't Doc confiscate that thing after last time?" And "where do you pick up insults like that?"

When it seemed they had both gone, Gamzee shot me a scornful look.

"Would it be too much to ask for a little backup next time?"

I scowled back. "and get stabbed? What do you expect, a teal like me standing up to royal blood?"

"Well you could've tried to distract her, at least. Do that blind thing you do. That's really distracting."

"Blind thing?" my face felt hot, my pulse pounded in my ears, streaking my vision with the color of my blood. "BLIND THING? You mean that thing I do where I'm BLIND?"

He shrugged, indifferent to my rage, and I ground my teeth so hard my fangs bit into my gums.

"I'd have to be stupid to intervene in a highblood fight. Do you think I'm stupid, Gamzee?"

He let his incisors poke out at the corners of his mouth, a gesture that was at once dominant and mocking.

"I guess not," he shrugged. "But sometimes you make it awful motherfucking hard to tell."

"Oh, do I?" I made my face feel like a glare. He was blurring at the edges a little; though my head still throbbed and my tongue sat heavy with the syrupy flavor of that Faygo stuff, its effects on my sight seemed to be fading. "Maybe it's because I'm hanging out with you. I guess that's a pretty stupid thing for me to do."

His hand, again the foggy grey blob I was used to identifying as a hand, pointed over my shoulder. "There's the motherfucking door, sis."

I made to get up. "I see it, idiot."

He laughed softly. "Really."

"Well I know where it is," I snapped, and we fell into a tense silence, within which the greasy egg butter stench of Doc's started to invade again.

"Hey," Gamzee said suddenly, softly. "Wanna have some fun?"

I gripped the empty bottle in front of me. "Like what?"

He slid his half-empty Redpop! across to me. "Like hiding out here until closing time. You know. Have some motherfucking fun."

I stared at the blurry plastic shape in my hands for a moment before taking a gulp. Again the hot buzz filled my cranial plates, radiating sweet red warmth through my body. Everything came sharply back into focus, too, and I drank it in, never wanting to lose this clarity again.

"Where could we hide?" I asked, warming to the idea.

He glanced around furtively, and I realized we were alone; all the customers had left, and none of the staff were in sight.

Scooping the remaining Faygo bottles back into his bag and leaving the empties on the table, Gamzee got up and slung the bag over his shoulder. Then he walked away, out of my range, so I got up, pulling my own book bag and soda with me, and followed.

I caught up to him by the jukebox, which was crackling and spitting while it switched to a new record. We passed that, and the arcade games, all of which were emitting soft snatches of music and ray gun noises, enticing and beckoning.

But Gamzee ignored them, leading me past the doors of the kitchen and a spiral staircase that smelled like my blood, all dark and iron. Only my blood tastes that way, though. Everyone else's just smells like fruit punch or melting cheese or something else equally delicious.

Finally we stopped before three doors spaced evenly against the back wall, just past the staircase. They each looked more or less the same, except for the one on the right, which had a glass panel set into it. All of them bore words, but I couldn't see them too clearly.

Gamzee disappeared inside the middle one without a word.

I stopped to smell the wood of the green-painted door, and run my tongue hesitantly over the word on its front. It was like licking pure salt. The word was HUMANS.

I cautiously pushed through the door, as well.