Chapter Text
A now-very-conscious cephalopod found himself on the floor after an abrupt shove.
Well, that was awfully gentle.
The surface he was currently occupying was particularly rude today, as it was rough and quite cold. His cartilaginous colleague drifted down to face him, then made a gesture resembling a grunt before he swam away in no direction in particular.
Tippet blew a chunk of hair out of his line of sight to tiredly glare at the shark.
“No respect. Not in the slightest.”
He felt a slight tinge of pain from his side, which had collided with the uneven ground in his fall. The half-octopus shifted, curling in on himself, debating if the lack of comfort the floor gave was worth inhabiting for much longer. He finally groaned after a soft nudge on his back reminded him of his habits with a hurried, small voice; “Sorry boss!! I bumped you a couple times, but then Jetsam just slammed into you! I told him not to, but I guess it worked, since you’re awake now, which is hard, since you sleep like you’re almost not alive. It’s really hard to wake you up- ‘takes forever when I do it, but Jetsam only does one hit and then you finally get awake again!”
Yawning, the cephalopod sat up and squinted amidst his tentacles at the smaller shark. “Flotsam, how many times have I told you that reminding me of the sleeping habits I’ve had since I was a foot long is unnecessary?”
The sandbar’s eyes widened, “You were a foot long? That’s so tiny!! And I thought all babies slept lightly, not like a rock at the bottom of the seafloor…”
Sighing and rubbing his eye, Tippet got up and drifted past the shark. “Exaggerating, Flotsam. And you’re missing the point.”
It looked like he’d drifted off during his reading. He stood next to his makeshift desk-thing, with all his random scrolls and notes he’d been studying lastnight how they were left, save for a few that had made the tumble with him when Jestsam woke him up. His tentacles subconsciously picked them up, and he sat back on the seat nearby to reassess what he’d been doing before he dozed off.
“What were you doing, boss? I was with my friend yesterday so I couldn’t help you study the things you said you had to study.”
Tippet’s eyes glazed over the various assortment of water-proof parchments, his tentacles holding them all before him and switching them out as he recalled the contents of each. “I believe……it was something about the….Hm.” He rubbed the last sleep out of his eye to focus on the words. “Uh….Northern kingdom’s trade. I didn’t find it too interesting apparently.”
“Ohhh okay. Why?”
Tippet scanned the papers, straining his eyes in vain. “I, uh….think I was just catching myself up with the happenings of the world, I guess.” He rubbed his temple as he felt a small headache closing in. Something was odd. Did he hit his head that hard when he fell? Some of his minty limbs lowered the papers and drifted randomly in the water.
Well, that can't be great. I guess I didn’t realize how tired I was.
No, that’s just not very…normal.
He knew his tentacles often seemed to have a completely separate mind of their own, but they happened to be completely uninterested in getting back to what he was doing.
Something is definitely going on.
“-oss?” The small sandbar shark then worriedly raised his voice; “ BOSS, Are you okay there?”
The cephalopod jerked out of his thoughts. “Hm? No. Or at least not quite.” He glanced down at his additional limbs again; “ ….I’m not sure. Though I’ll say it can’t be that bad if my heart’s still pumping.” He decided to not work himself up over it. It probably was a strange result of Jetsam’s successful attempt to wake him up.