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It's been a bit since Spudsy's, and Gangle's hiding at a bench, back pressed against the wall, a short distance away from where the others are hanging out. She's scribbling away on her notepad, though her mind is awash in a flood of emotions that makes progress impossibly slow. Dimly, she registers the sound of footsteps, someone getting closer and closer.
"Hey, what are you all the way out here for?" Zooble asks.
Gangle turns to look at Zooble; a sniffle comes out of her before she can control it. She looks away.
"I messed everything up," Gangle says, and she hates how meek her voice sounds; how meek it always sounds. "The mask didn't work."
"And now, I don't think anyone wants to talk with me anymore." Gangle buries her head in her notebook, cowering away from Zooble. Because why would they, when she'd been absolutely awful to all of them today. Sure, it was under the effects of another mask, but it was still her. It wouldn't be surprising if none of them ever wanted to spend time with her ever again. Heck, she wouldn't want to talk to her again.
There's a brief pause
"I still like talking to you," Zooble says, and Gangle's heart stutters in her chest.
Because Zooble—
There are many people at the Digital Circus, and Gangle isn't really all too comfortable with most of them.
There's Jax, who's just the absolute worst person in existence in every way imaginable. If he were gone, Gangle really wouldn't mind.
There's Kinger, and he's a good guy, but anyone with eyes would see that he's got a few screws loose and is an absolute lunatic. Gangle doesn't know how to feel.
There's Ragatha, and Ragatha is many things. She's kind, she's caring, she's a good person. She'll sit down with you and comfort you and whisper sweet nothings into your ear until all the bad things go away. She'll watch out for you and treat you nicely and never do anything mean. She'll say anything, anything, to try and make you feel better. It just so happens that that's the problem; she'll laugh at Kaufmo's jokes, and tell Pomni she doesn't hold a grudge, and tell Gangle she likes her in all her masks. But then she gets drunk, and the truth comes out.
Because Ragatha is many things, but honest is not one of them.
There's Pomni, too, and she honestly seems wonderful so far. She's kind and empathetic and speaks with a sincerity that Ragatha lacks. She could be a good friend. But Pomni's only been here for a few days, and there's so much unfamiliar that Gangle doesn't yet recognise. Gangle would love to get to know her better. (She was kind, and offered to close for Gangle, who hadn't even muttered a word of thanks. Friendship? As if Pomni would really want to be friends with such an ungrateful twat.)
And then there's Zooble. They're harsh and abrasive and unafraid to say it like they see it, words blunt as a hammer. They'll sock Jax in the face when he's being annoying, and tell it straight to Caine's face when his adventures are absolute ass.
They're often annoyed, indifferent sometimes and even outright mean at others. Comparing their mood to Ragatha's, and the difference is night and day.
But in spite of that, or perhaps because of it, Gangle feels something towards Zooble that she never could towards anyone else. An odd, flickering ember in her chest that she thinks is best called trust. Because Zooble—
Zooble doesn't tell lies.
I still like talking to you, they said.
Ragatha would say the same. Drunk Ragatha would not.
Drunk Zooble, Gangle thinks, absolutely would.
And so her heart does something funny and her breath catches and, before she realises what she's doing, she lifts her head to look at them. Mismatched eyes stare back, gentle and caring in a way Zooble rarely shows.
"Look, the new mask was a bust, so what?" Zooble says, even though Gangle has been acting like the absolute worst the entire day, as though there isn't every reason to be annoyed at her. "I'm sure we'll find something that works eventually."
Zooble looks at her, concern shimmering in those mismatched eyes, so clear and free of judgement and the hatred she deserves, and their body language is different than usual, undeniably soft in a way she's can't describe, and it's just so much and its overwhelming and she
"I don't d-deserve a friend like you," Gangle breathes, voice tiny and cracking in much the same way that her plastic mask did not.
Zooble lets out a soft chuckle.
"Well, you've got one," they say, as if that's all there is to it. Maybe it is. "Now, come on over and hang out with the rest of us."
Zooble blinks. "Oh, and bring your art, too. I always like seeing what you draw."
They say it so simply, even though it's impossible, and Gangle wants to scoff because if her art was the kind of thing people actually liked she would've been able to live out her dreams as a manga artist instead of having it shot down. But it's Zooble.
And Zooble doesn't tell lies.
So Gangle swipes a tear off her mask, gathers her notebook in her arms, and stands.
She walks back towards the others, Zooble beside her. Pomni's seated on a couch. At the sound of their footsteps, Pomni glances up, smiles, and waves.
Gangle hesitantly waves a ribbon in response. Pomni's smile widens.
The mask she wears now is Tragedy; no matter how hard she's tried in the past, she just couldn't muster up anything but sorrow and sadness. With how often her Comedy mask broke, she was beginning to think it was all she would ever feel.
Yet, in this moment, Pomni smiling at her and Zooble at her side, Gangle finds herself smiling back. It's real.
It feels like a beginning.