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A Late Night Chat (Between Class 6 and 7)
Jul. 22nd, 2025 07:49 pmThe door to the Piper's lab - more of a large closet, honestly - banged open, finally revealing their, er, "lab assistant."
"You're late." Piper yawned, peeling their face up from their desk. "I almost ended up in Parabola the old-fashioned way."
"Well, I'm glad to see you weren't having fun without me." The Struggling Artist smiled, placing a jar of Prisoner's Honey on the desk with an unnecessary flourish.
"How could I have fun without you?" Piper rolled their eyes.
It was rude, but the Artist just laughed. No amount of insults or sarcasm could push the annoying bugger away. Piper couldn't decide if that quality was endearing or obnoxious.
It was a relatable enough quality that they tried to consider it the former.
"Thanks," they added belatedly, rubbing their eyes. They really should have gone home earlier. They weren't going to get any more research done at this rate.
"You're quite welcome. I accept tips if you are pleased with my service." The Artist bowed.
Piper snorted.
"Don't drink alcohol after eating Ink Caps. There's a tip." Speaking of drinks -
They poured a cup of tea from their thermos - one of the special blends the Diligent Rodent had dropped by when she was leaving for the evening. This iteration of C3 no longer numbed the hands, and instead numbed the sleep deprivation headache they had coming on. At the Artist's expectant look, the Piper poured him a cup too.
"You are ever so kind, my love," he said.
"Don't call me that." Piper grimaced.
"Oh, you know I don't mean it." He waved, managing to spill a bit of tea on the concrete floor.
"I know. And thank hell for that." They sighed. Normally they find his over-the-top, meaningless flirting more entertaining than annoying. "Sorry. Rough week."
The memories of class hadn't faded, likely due to the Correspondence symbol involved. Just their luck.
"Romance troubles?" The Artist scooted his chair closer, always eager for some gossip. "Do you need some pointers in seduction? I would be happy to teach you a lesson or two."
"You know I seduced you, right?"
"Hm. That's not how I remember it." He scratched his mustache.
Piper frowned. They'd rather not pit their memory against anyone else's right now.
"It doesn't matter, because I don't need help. I... didn't mean to 'seduce' anyone. And I didn't. I..."
They sighed, running a hand down their face before taking another long sip of tea.
"Did you ever actually love me?" they blurted.
The Artist blinked.
"Ah. Hm. Would you like an honest answer, or a polite one?"
"Honest."
"Then no."
A breath of relief. Of course, even if he had, the Piper still shouldn't have felt bad about using him. It was his own fault for foolishly letting any fluttery emotions get the best of him.
But now that the Piper had felt those emotions, even if only briefly... well. It just. It didn't feel right. To consider anyone else weak for having them. Or for wanting them.
"You were a great deal of fun. You still are," the Artist said, as if trying to soften the blow. "Your critiques of my work were always... ah, inspiring." He grimaced.
His art still wasn't good. Piper didn't bother telling him that right now, though.
"Why do you ask? I haven't managed to seduce you again, have I?" He tilted his head, trying to give them his best leer.
It was comical enough to make Piper laugh.
"In your dreams." They knocked back another swig of tea.
"Speaking of dreams, why don't you get some rest? I honestly expected you to have left by the time I returned."
"Then why did you even bother coming back?" Piper always locked up the lab when they left. Unless they forgot. ...Naturally, they forgot a lot.
He shrugged. "Nothing better to do."
Ugh. He really was pathetic. They were some kind of match, weren't they? Two fellows too annoying for anyone else to handle long-term. Using anyone who hadn't yet wizened up.
Did he ever want to be different? Could Piper ever be different?
Despite everything, or because of it, they weren't actually close. Piper didn't want to hear whatever answer the Artist might have. They weren't sure which was scarier: if they were destined to always be this way, or if they could change, and just weren't diligent enough to.
"You should stop scowling. You'll get wrinkles," the Artist said.
The Piper scowled harder on principle.
"Not like anyone could see them." They tapped their mask.
"Ah, but you will, won't you?"
"Bold of you to assume this isn't my real face."
It was. The skin beneath was the false persona. The Artist had never seen it, and never would.
"Alright, scowl all you wish. If you can't take constructive criticism from an expert on beauty, that's none of my concern." He set his empty teacup on the desk, then stood and stretched. "Goodnight, Piper. I won't bother telling you to get some beauty sleep."
"Same to you." They waved him off, and he chuckled as he left.
Piper had to shut the door behind him. Inconsiderate prick.
They rubbed their forehead. The C3 wasn't doing a very good job this time.
"You're late." Piper yawned, peeling their face up from their desk. "I almost ended up in Parabola the old-fashioned way."
"Well, I'm glad to see you weren't having fun without me." The Struggling Artist smiled, placing a jar of Prisoner's Honey on the desk with an unnecessary flourish.
"How could I have fun without you?" Piper rolled their eyes.
It was rude, but the Artist just laughed. No amount of insults or sarcasm could push the annoying bugger away. Piper couldn't decide if that quality was endearing or obnoxious.
It was a relatable enough quality that they tried to consider it the former.
"Thanks," they added belatedly, rubbing their eyes. They really should have gone home earlier. They weren't going to get any more research done at this rate.
"You're quite welcome. I accept tips if you are pleased with my service." The Artist bowed.
Piper snorted.
"Don't drink alcohol after eating Ink Caps. There's a tip." Speaking of drinks -
They poured a cup of tea from their thermos - one of the special blends the Diligent Rodent had dropped by when she was leaving for the evening. This iteration of C3 no longer numbed the hands, and instead numbed the sleep deprivation headache they had coming on. At the Artist's expectant look, the Piper poured him a cup too.
"You are ever so kind, my love," he said.
"Don't call me that." Piper grimaced.
"Oh, you know I don't mean it." He waved, managing to spill a bit of tea on the concrete floor.
"I know. And thank hell for that." They sighed. Normally they find his over-the-top, meaningless flirting more entertaining than annoying. "Sorry. Rough week."
The memories of class hadn't faded, likely due to the Correspondence symbol involved. Just their luck.
"Romance troubles?" The Artist scooted his chair closer, always eager for some gossip. "Do you need some pointers in seduction? I would be happy to teach you a lesson or two."
"You know I seduced you, right?"
"Hm. That's not how I remember it." He scratched his mustache.
Piper frowned. They'd rather not pit their memory against anyone else's right now.
"It doesn't matter, because I don't need help. I... didn't mean to 'seduce' anyone. And I didn't. I..."
They sighed, running a hand down their face before taking another long sip of tea.
"Did you ever actually love me?" they blurted.
The Artist blinked.
"Ah. Hm. Would you like an honest answer, or a polite one?"
"Honest."
"Then no."
A breath of relief. Of course, even if he had, the Piper still shouldn't have felt bad about using him. It was his own fault for foolishly letting any fluttery emotions get the best of him.
But now that the Piper had felt those emotions, even if only briefly... well. It just. It didn't feel right. To consider anyone else weak for having them. Or for wanting them.
"You were a great deal of fun. You still are," the Artist said, as if trying to soften the blow. "Your critiques of my work were always... ah, inspiring." He grimaced.
His art still wasn't good. Piper didn't bother telling him that right now, though.
"Why do you ask? I haven't managed to seduce you again, have I?" He tilted his head, trying to give them his best leer.
It was comical enough to make Piper laugh.
"In your dreams." They knocked back another swig of tea.
"Speaking of dreams, why don't you get some rest? I honestly expected you to have left by the time I returned."
"Then why did you even bother coming back?" Piper always locked up the lab when they left. Unless they forgot. ...Naturally, they forgot a lot.
He shrugged. "Nothing better to do."
Ugh. He really was pathetic. They were some kind of match, weren't they? Two fellows too annoying for anyone else to handle long-term. Using anyone who hadn't yet wizened up.
Did he ever want to be different? Could Piper ever be different?
Despite everything, or because of it, they weren't actually close. Piper didn't want to hear whatever answer the Artist might have. They weren't sure which was scarier: if they were destined to always be this way, or if they could change, and just weren't diligent enough to.
"You should stop scowling. You'll get wrinkles," the Artist said.
The Piper scowled harder on principle.
"Not like anyone could see them." They tapped their mask.
"Ah, but you will, won't you?"
"Bold of you to assume this isn't my real face."
It was. The skin beneath was the false persona. The Artist had never seen it, and never would.
"Alright, scowl all you wish. If you can't take constructive criticism from an expert on beauty, that's none of my concern." He set his empty teacup on the desk, then stood and stretched. "Goodnight, Piper. I won't bother telling you to get some beauty sleep."
"Same to you." They waved him off, and he chuckled as he left.
Piper had to shut the door behind him. Inconsiderate prick.
They rubbed their forehead. The C3 wasn't doing a very good job this time.
