"... Angel?"

In the quiet evening, Eight's voice - a low murmur - breaks the silence, and Three stirs besides her.

"Mm?" she hums softly, shifting on the bed. The sheets ruffle when she moves, but cling to her nonetheless. Three kicks her leg incessantly, attempting to wriggle free. She swears she hears Eight laugh at that, but neither of them say anything about it - instead, she tugs the sheet away from Three's form. "Thanks," Three mutters brusquely.

Pulling her into a warm embrace, Eight nods against the nape of her neck. "It's nothing." A few seconds pass like that, comforting silence settling over the two again. Slowly, Eight's hands slide down Three's form, thin fingers beginning to tease at Three's thigh.

"Eight," Three starts, pulling her thigh away. "Eight, I just got out of the shower. I don't want to shower again."

"... Mm, but..." Her breath is hot against Three's skin as her hand gropes at Three's flesh. "I could help, you know..?"

"Just go use your hand," Three snaps, eliciting an indignant squawk from the perpetrator, accompanied with a brief flash of blue. "Didn't you have a question to ask me?"

"Oh, right." Eight shifts a little, squeezing Three tight towards her bare chest. "Do you ever think about how, like, body odor... It smells kinda like weed. Isn't that weird?"

Of all things for her girlfriend to say, Three was not expecting that.

"What?" she practically snaps in response. "I- Eight, you-" Three draws in a deep breath and exhales slowly, shoving Eight away. She sits up and presses herself against the cool wall, finally out of the girlfriend-microwave death trap. "Are you talking about cannabis?" Sprawling out on the mattress, Eight nods. Like a stoner. Like the fucking stoner she is. "How the fuck do you know what cannabis smells like?"

"Oh," she mumbles, blinking lazily. "It's illegal, isn't it?" Three makes a face. "Mm. Well, it was sort of legal in Octaria. Smells like body odor."

"Sort of legal," Three repeats, rolling her eyes. "Are you a criminal? Do you commit crimes?"

"It was legal if no one caught you," she explains. Dryly, Three laughs at that. "C'mooon, don't be mean." She jabs an accusatory finger at Three's general direction, bumping clumsily into her side. Her hand flops sadly onto the bed with a dull slap. "Like, it wasn't really a crime - it was pretty much everywhere, after all - and possessing it wasn't the illegal part! It was about the fire aspect. Like, literally just the smoking part. So you'd either have to come up with some fancy way to get high off it or try and light a joint with, like, an exposed wire, and that had its own problems, and-" She looks up to meet Three's extremely disappointed gaze. "... Don't look at me like that! And you can't even shame me for formerly doing it because the Elders know you've done worse."

"It's not about that, it's just-" Three bites her tongue. Well, see, it was certainly about that - not that Three super cares, only she does since cannabis is one of the most highly-illegal drugs in the WORLD, and Eight, just, fucking admitted to smoking it by lighting it with exposed wire (? the hell?) but that fact made even LESS sense once Three started to think about it more. "... The Octarian drinking age is twenty-five, right?" Eight nods. "Do you - Eight, babe - don't you think it's at least a little stupid that the drinking age is that high when fucking cannabis is perfectly legal?"

Eight makes a face and bites her lip, rolling onto her back. "... No," she settles on. "Alcohol is too expensive to produce for such a small country, since we barely had enough room for farms, let alone farms for stuff that wasn't just the staples, and it can cause brain damage."

"... Cannabis also causes brain damage," Three points out helpfully.

"It's cute that you think that," Eight responds sweetly. Three rolls her eyes and reaches for her phone. "... But, yeah. I mean, I wouldn't smoke it now. I'm just saying that body odor smells like weed."

"Eight, you won't even touch a glass of wine," Three mutters, squinting at her phone as she tries to find that one study she's thinking of. "Do you even know how to work a lighter?"

"I can learn. It can't be that hard," she replies. "What's the worst that could happen anyways? I get a burn?"

Images of the Houzuki-Iida household blazing away to ashes haunt Three's mind. "... Y'know, I think you don't need a lighter anyways."

Eight blows a raspberry at her, wiggling her way up the bed. She lays her head on Three's arm, peering down at her phone. "You're boring. I'd make a great non-arsonist."

"... Babe, do you mean a firefighter?" Three asks with a small laugh. Even if she wasn't looking, she'd be able to tell that Eight was flustered based purely off the sudden heat her arm felt.

Face flushed, Eight furrows her brow and pouts. "No! I said what I said." Three moves her arm out from under Eight's head, a silent invitation to let her rest her head on her lap, which Eight does. Three's hand soon returns, gently patting Eight's mantle.

"Right," she breathes, smirking, "Of course you did."

Eight lets out a quiet mumble - Three can't hear it, but she's sure it's some sort of insult. "... What were you looking up?" she asks quietly, looking at the pages of search results that came up for 'cannabis brain damage - Squoogle'. "... Squoogle's such a stupid name for a search engine. I could do so much better," Eight mutters, although it's probably more to herself than anything else. Biting back a laugh, Three gently scratches at the space right between Eight's ear and where her tentacles grow. Eight's ear twitches, although she doesn't make any effort to stop her. Instead, she blinks slowly and taps at some ad on the SquebMD page (titled Adverse Effects of Cannabis - The World's Most Dangerous Drug). "Three, what's that?" Having accidentally clicked on the ad, they both wait for the page to load.

"... Oh, that." She gives the loaded website a few flicks, blindly skimming through the wall of text. "It's just an ad for some K-Clear stuff."

"Yeah, but what is it..?"

Three gives it another look. It's some inkling she doesn't know the name of - albeit very conventionally attractive, and Three has to admit she's capable of being very basic at times - with metallically golden ink and large blue eyes - a darker blue, yet still too vivid to be natural. Surrounding the pupils are rings from the lights above, like miniature halos. The woman's tentacles are relatively plump and seductively lustrous, stretching down to about her thighs. The rest of her is covered in a white dress, adorned with silver accents. She's laying on her back, surrounded by white feathers, and in her hand is something like a wine glass, filled with a slightly cloudy liquid. It's raised towards the camera in a toast and, despite everything, dominates the frame.

"Wow," Eight deadpans as Three suddenly becomes very aware of the slight heat to her face, "That sure is a woman, Three. Take a screenshot, it'll last longer." Three gives a very half-assed flick to Eight's temple, which the other woman snickers at.

"... Shut up," Three mumbles, pulling her legs a bit closer to her chest. Eight lets out a quiet grunt as the mass of Three's thigh collides with her throat. "Sorry."

"You tried to assassinate me," Eight whines, rolling over dramatically and presses - no, smushes, definitely - her face into the bare flesh of Three's stomach. Her next words, in turn, come out muffled: "So cruel! So evil!"

"Can it, you big baby." Eight wraps her arms around Three's waist and lets out some muffled sobbing noises. "Seriously, stop it." She doesn't have to see Eight's face to know she's grinning ear-to-ear like a shark that got into the aquarium.

"Whuh ah eh?" Eight asks - or something like it, if Three were to attempt to transcribe muffled speech.

"What the fuck are you saying?"

Eight pulls her face away and makes eye contact, resting her head against Three's thighs. "What was it?"

"... Nyuunihera ad," Three mumbles as she very discreetly takes a screenshot for later viewing. She scrolls down a bit more and squints at the tiny text. "The special kind, though. Have you had nyuunihera pekyu before?"

"They had a whole woman with a wine glass out for... Lionfish sweaters?" Eight asks, confusion evident in her voice. "What?"

Three blinks and then bursts out laughing, leaving a dumbfounded Eight to merely stare at her.

"I- No," she says eventually between snickers. "No, babe, you're- You're thinking of nyunihera. Nyuunihera is... Not the same as nyunihera."

"Of course," Eight mutters bitterly. "I can't wait until I can get it confused with nyu'unihera."

"... That's a word, y'know." Eight blinks at her. "Yeah. For beanstalk. You did know that, right?"

"Your language is dumb," Eight decides, deflecting the question. "Your language is dumb and we should switch to a better language that doesn't suck."

"Aaanyways," Three breathes out. "... Nyuunihera is, like, an Atramentonian drink. It's alcoholic and all, but it's the kind of thing where you can get away with giving a fourteen year old a watered-down glass of it if they're bothering you a lot." She pauses. "... Not that I have, of course. But, uh... It's, um, a fancier drink, I guess? It's sweeter than other alcohol with a weird aftertaste, typically served either ice-cold or really hot with no in-between, but nyuunihera pekyu is only served around New Year's and you have to drink it hot. It's wicked expensive though, but it's super strong."

"... Mm, okay." Eight yawns, stretching. "So... Why around New Year's?"

"Because New Year's is special?" Three says slowly. "Eight, do... Did you not celebrate New Year's?"

"Uhhh." Eight rolls her eyes. "Of course not? It's just the end of a marking period."

"That is the dumbest thing I have ever heard," Three states objectively. "You're trying to tell me that not once have you ever done anything for New Year's? Not even a little song and dance or whatever?"

"... Oh, I've never danced before. I never understood it," she responds. "And, um... No, I haven't. We didn't... Do that."

"... That's stupid. That's stupid and dumb and I'm gonna tell Pearl," Three says. "And I'm gonna make Pearl make you do a little song and dance."

"You're mean," she whines. "You're mean and you have a big head."

"Eight, come on. You need to participate in the joy of New Year's at least once! You have to. Fuck that Squidmas shit, New Year's is where it's at."

"But Squidmas has a point to it?" Eight says wrongly and incorrectly. "There's no objective use for New Year's. You just do paperwork."

"... New Year's is, like... A celebration that you survived through the past year, or whatever. Did you guys really not bother with those sort of things?"

"That's what a birthday's for, Three," she says dryly, but she doesn't make eye contact any longer. Almost... Bitterly, Eight mutters, "It's funny that you surface-dwellers have that celebration, of all things. But, you know-" She breathes the last words out in a bit of an exasperated sigh. "- The surface is all about parties, right..?"

"Yeah," Three mumbles, setting her phone down on the nightstand. "It really is."

Perhaps hearing the slight edge in her tone, Eight pulls her head off Three's lap, laying down beside her atop the pile of kicked-away sheets.

"... Goodnight, Three," she says, a strange quality to her tone.

Flicking the lamp off, Three clenches her jaw once before muttering back, "Yeah. Goodnight."