Chapter Text
Crewmates are so strange.
I had thought that I understood well enough how they acted from my observations, however brief. Maybe I should have watched for longer though, then I could’ve avoided this predicament I was in.
“What do you mean,” Yellow leaned in closer from behind the counter, visor narrowed at me, “you’re not hungry?”
I looked down at the pizza slice they had given me. Objectively, it looked relatively tasty—stringy cheese, wonderfully crispy crust and pepperoni, and no doubt wonderful tasting sauce. It was just that… well, actually, it was two things.
One, there was a salty smell to it that instinctively turned me off. I didn’t know why, but something about the smell of salt made me want to shrink away and get as far away as possible from the source. My instincts haven’t failed me yet, so I elected to trust that salt was bad for me.
Secondly, I wasn’t hungry, and that wasn’t a lie. Really! I had eaten White only a few days ago, and I was still extremely full and content with that meal. I wouldn’t have to eat for a long while, I already knew.
“I mean I’m not hungry.” I responded, and again, it wasn’t a lie.
Yellow didn’t seem to like that answer. Their visor narrowed more, their whole face scrunching up as they leaned in further. “I have not seen you eat a single thing these past couple of days, not even coming in to sneak a snack from the kitchen, and I doubt you’ve got your own stash of food because you came here with no bags.”
They poked me in the chest, and I looked down at their finger.
Oh. They got some grease on me.
My brow furrowed.
Ew.
Yellow continued. “Now, I may not like you one bit, but I’m not just gonna stand here and let someone starve themselves to death. So. Eat.”
I looked at Yellow, then at the salty pizza, then back at Yellow, then at Brown (who looked back at me), then at the pizza, then over at Cyan (who waved at me from their table), then back at Yellow, and finally, at the pizza again.
Now, it wasn’t like I didn’t like Yellow. I did, truly, even if some of their comments toward me stung a little more than I would like. It was hard to remain in character while also trying to become Yellow’s (and Brown’s as well, by extension) friend.
But again. The salt, the way my body and gut reeled at its smell…
So, instead of simply caving in and eating the fear-inducing pizza, I laughed with a practiced spasm of my diaphragm. “I’m not hungry, really! It’s fine. Don’t worry.” I pushed the pizza toward Yellow, giving my best, most convincing smile. I had lots of practice in the mirror lately, and I was rather proud of the one I had made for today.
Yellow’s and Brown’s expressions shifted ever so slightly, gone from frustrated to… still frustrated, but also concerned. I couldn’t fathom why. I would be fine without anything to eat.
Just as I began to walk away, though, I was tugged sharply back by the collar of my shirt. I squealed, high-pitched and panicked, before Yellow spun me around to face them again.
Okay. Social interaction not over, then.
“Look, I…” Yellow began, trailed off, and then groaned loudly. “You don't have to eat the pizza, okay? But I still want you to eat something. Anything! Even if it's some stupid ass fancy-schmancy rich folk meal or whatever.”
Again, the frustration with an undercurrent of concern. Their expression was… pleading, was the best word for it.
Crewmates were so strange.
I hummed and mused over their words. By now, it was obvious to me that I would not get to leave until I quelled the two chefs’ worries, however much I thought it was unnecessary. I suppose I could choke down something small without consequences.
“... Do you have anything sweet?” I asked after a moment.
Yellow and Brown sighed, and I knew I had won this interaction.
“Oh! You got a fruit salad??” Cyan asked as White waltzed over, sitting down at their table. It was such a relief to see their friend eating something! They really had started worrying for a moment there…
White nodded, seeming very happy with their food of choice. They poked at the leaves in their small bowl with a fork, picking carefully through to get to the fruit first. “Mhm. Yellow and Brown made it for me.”
Cyan looked over at where Yellow and Brown were, still in the kitchen. The two were talking quietly to each other, too quiet for Cyan to overhear, but it warmed the gemologist’s heart that the chefs truly seemed to care for White in spite of their differences. How wonderful! How joyous!! Yay!!!
Cyan beamed at White, kicking their legs happily from under their seat. “Well, I’m glad to hear that you’re eating something you like!”
White laughed softly in that strange, slightly stilted but genuine way they had. “Thanks,” they smiled back, before having a mouthful of sliced strawberries and oranges.