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"Zedaph! Hey!" Impulse shouts, running after the leaving fae.
Zedaph stops, turning around. "Oh, hey, Impulse! What's up?" he asked, beaming. His wings, looking as fluffy as ever, fluttered behind him.
Impulse pauses in front of him. "Oh, uh," he hesitates, scratching the back of his neck with his claws. With an awkward grin, he continues. "How do you befriend a fae?"
Zedaph blinks. "What?"
"I- you know… befriend a fae?" Impulse repeats uncertainty. Is he using the wrong word? Another culture thing he didn't realize? Or is Zedaph the wrong person to come to given that he's only half fae - the rest is sheep and a little bit wither skeleton. Maybe Tango was the right person to go to instead.
"Is that… a euphemism?" Zedaph asks, bewildered. No way. Impulse would never ask for something like that…or at least Zedaph thinks he wouldn't. "You talk to one."
"What?! No!" Impulse throws out his hands, waving them around like a defense from the question. "I…" he mumbles, looking embarrassed. "I don't wanna talk to him…it's embarrassing."
Zedaph makes a sound of acknowledgement, tapping on his chin. "Hm… well, I suppose we could go back to basics."
Impulse lights up. "Yes! Basics! Let's do that!"
"Offer him a bowl of milk."
Grian steps outside his tower, eyes on his communicator as he messages Mumbo and Iskall in preparation for a meeting. Right as he hits the button for a call, he also hits… a bowl. "Wh-"
"Grian!" the other Sahara founders shout out in unison. From there, they move on to shouting each other's names and then their own names, which is very strange and loud, until they notice Grian is unusually quiet.
"Grian?" Mumbo calls, concern in his voice.
"You okay?" Iskall asks. Already at Sahara, he shares an uncertain look with Mumbo.
Grian hesitates, eyeing the ground in front of him with wild confusion. He gapes. "There's…" he trails off, bewildered and unsure how to continue. "...somebody… somebody left a bowl of milk at my door."
Tango shoves Impulse into a seat in a faux classroom. Impulse's tail just barely flicks out of the way of his own behind before Tango's stood at the front of the room by a backwards whiteboard. "Really, this isn't necessary-" Impulse tries.
"SO!" Tango interrupts him, smacking the board with the tip of a stick. "I heard you were trying to befriend a fae! BEHOLD!" He hits the top of the board, clearly expecting some grand reveal that doesn't come. He tries again, dropping the stick. "Be… Behold. Behold! Be…HOLD!" With a particularly hard thwack, the board spins around once, twice, three times.
Written on the board are instructions and illustrations that make… no sense. Tango picks up the stick, pointing at the board. "Behold!" he shouts. "Your step-by-step plan! Completely free of talking, discussion, and otherwise face-to-face communication!"
Impulse nods vigorously, leaning forward in his seat. Might as well play along.
"FIRST!" Tango points to an illustration of a… Impulse isn't sure. It looks like a box on fire. "You bake a cake!" Ohh… "A honey one! With cream too!" Tango snaps and grins, looking like he's just thought up the lightbulb. "Y'know what, just honey and cream! It's perfect!"
Impulse furrows his eyebrows. "You sure this is gonna work?"
Tango leans forward on the desk. "One hundred."
"And the next step?"
"Oh! Okay, so-"
Grian stares at the steps in front of his door, once again greeted by a strange… offering?
Inside a plastic red bowl was a frankly disgusting mixture of what appeared to be honey and cream. It reeks of burnt honey and Grian can see a yellow post-it stuck to the edge with "Sorry! The cake didn't turn out how we wanted it to :('' written on it. Alongside it are two colorful balloons held down by the bowl.
It was also surrounded by rocks. Not particularly pretty or even mildly interesting ones, just… rocks. With a moment of realization, Grian bristles, flapping his wings to boost himself up into the air. He surveys the area for someone - anyone - who could be responsible and finds nothing.
"If this is a prank, it's not funny!" he shouts out. "This smell is never gonna leave!"
Dropping to the ground, he pockets the balloons and kicks the mixture into the sea. Watching the mixture sink, he mumbles, "I hope no one wanted that bowl back." And with that, he returns back inside, slamming the door as he goes.
His base smells like burnt honey for the next 8 weeks.
"Give 'im a whole buncha beads, Impulse!" Stress tells him, iced over wings fluttering. "On a string- yeah, that'll do it! I rememba once somebody gave me a beaded necklace- oh it had me swooning!" She twirls around for emphasis, taking Impulse's hands and spinning him in circles in a quaint dance.
"And where do you suppose I'll get the beads?" he asks, continuing the dance despite the tiny slips from frozen floors and the tremble of his heat-born body unaccustomed to the cold. Her hands feel like ice against him.
Stress breaks free, gliding over to a chest nearby excitedly. "Oh, I've got plenty!" Digging through the chest, her head disappears inside it. "Red ones, blue ones, orange ones-" With every example, she pulls out handfuls. "Transparent, solid, shaped-"
"Okay, okay, I get it!" he laughs. Moving to kneel by her side, he asks "Can you help me pick? I'm not sure how to go about it."
"Oh, of course, love! Tell me about 'im."
Grian guesses the third gift must be an apology.
He wakes up to an armor stand dummy stood outside his door this time. On it is a colorful beaded necklace, adorned with all the colors of the rainbow and more in all different shapes and kinds of beads. Posted to the dummy's face (and then pinned for good measure), is another note.
As he lifts the necklace off carefully, he picks the note with the other. Turning the jewelry in his hand, he reads: "I didn't know what kind of jewelry you like or your favorite colors so I just did a bunch". On a separate line it continues, "hope you like it :)"
Grian examines the necklace, looks around, and then places it over his head and around his neck.
"Jar."
Impulse stares. "What?"
False looks at him like he's stupid. "Full of colored glass and sequins and… stuff," she trails off like she has more to say but doesn't want to say it, finishing with an echo of, "Y'know. Jar."
"What stuff?" Impulse asks. He has no clue what fairies like, as an imp. Imps like machines and metal, but everything he's had suggested to him is so… the opposite. Where would he even get a jar? Or sequins? Does anyone even sell sequins?
She hesitates, then gestures at one of the buildings. "I'll be right back."
False comes back with a jar in her hands, full of colorful bits and pieces. She holds it out to him and rolls it in her hands, pointing at things on the sides. "String, clay… stuff."
"Oh! You have one?" She nods nonchalantly. Impulse puts his hands on the jar to turn it and investigate, leaning to peer at the sides closest to False. He mutters, "Chains, confetti, pressed flowers-" He makes a face- "Are those bones?"
False pulls the jar away and holds it against her chest. "Okay, bye."
"But-"
"Bye, Impulse."
Now, Grian's sure someone must be messing with him.
"Is this someone's trash?"
It's a jar full of scraps and destroyed things. Admittedly, they're pretty but painted gears? Broken metal and glass? It's a hazard at best! He thinks he can see tiny wind chimes and… sand??? There's wires and redstone, and it's all very colorful, but he can't help but think of it as garbage.
And the noise it makes when he picks it up. He almost drops the damned thing. First a necklace then what must be the remains of a machine gone wrong… Either the last gift was an apology or whoever keeps leaving him things has to be a very bad gifter.
Stuck to the side is a sticky note that says "I don't know what you like so I just put what I like in".
So, the culprit must be a redstoner, then.
Mumbo didn't expect to speak to Impulse today, but the instant Impulse sees him he lights up like a firework. It almost worries him.. "Mumbo! Mumbo, Mumbo!" Impulse runs over from where he'd spotted him across the shopping area. He's practically tripping over himself in his excitement.
"Mumbo," Impulse wheezes when he reaches him, keeling over to take a few gasping breaths. Before Mumbo has the chance to ask if he's okay, he shoots back up, devil tail flicking eagerly. "How do you befriend a fairy?"
Mumbo scrunches up his face. "What?" He can't help but wonder if it's the start of some weird joke.
"Like what gifts do you give?" Impulse asks. Mumbo wonders even more, this time about whether Impulse had gotten his wires crossed when thinking of a Hermit to ask for social help. It's like Impulse can see Mumbo's confusion (and let's be honest, he probably can) when he answers. "What do you like to get gifted?"
Mumbo stumbles when he answers, giving the completely wrong answer and instead telling him a combination of Iskall's and Grian's favorite gifts. "Um, nice music and butterscotch?"
Before he can correct himself, Impulse is gone.
The next day, Mumbo wakes up to a call from Grian. He's exhausted from working on Sahara all night, but it's Grian, so he answers. Plus, he's always had something to wake him right up lately. Today, the call begins with a shout.
"My favorite thing, Mumbo! They've brought me my favorite thing!" Grian cries. The video function flicks on and Grian swaps the view to point at the ground in front of his door. There's a jukebox visibly in action with a music disc leaned against its side and a bowl of unwrapped candies on top.
Grian keeps talking as Mumbo narrows his eyes. That's… familiar. Suddenly, he remembers his conversation with Impulse. "Grian-" Mumbo interrupts. "I think I know who your secret gifter is."
The camera switches to face Grian, who's staring eagerly at the phone. "Who?!" he exclaims.
"Impulse!"
"Impulse?" Grian repeats in disbelief.
"Impulse!" Mumbo echoes. "He asked me how to befriend a fairy yesterday and I slipped up and told him your's and Iskall's favorites," he recalls with a laugh. "I think he's been trying to be your friend."
Grian groans. "Ohhh, that makes so much sense! How do you suppose I get back at him?"
Mumbo grins. "I say you send him back a gift of your own."