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It’s late in the studio, and Battat is on Mike duty.
There’s something that the other pippins have been whispering about. About how one of the cabinets in the bonus room will make noises if the pippins linger in there just a little too long. That, maybe, there’s something spooky and haunted that’s creeping around there. Maybe something cursed that was left behind by Mr G when he jumped ship, if only to keep the pippins from digging through his treasures.
It’s stupid rumors of course, but it’s worth at least checking. Battat can't hide the fact that he's curious– he's a pippins, he can't deny liking some gossip — but still, he took this new, self imposed job way more seriously than the others. So, he'd be the better Darkner to find out just what it was.
When Battat creeps into the bonus room, there’s a light already flickered on, and a humming sound coming from the direction of the cabinet. When he looks, though —
Two things make Battat freeze; the first is Oh, hi Ramb, and the second is is that a fucking pipis.
Ramb is settled on a stool by Tenna’s special cabinet, holding something round and blue in his furry paws. The power strip looks up, casual smile on his face, because Ramb has never had an actual care or worry in the world.
“Hey there, pip,” Ramb greets, voice louder than Battat’s thoughts. The little bundle in his arms chirps, and the plugboy laughs. “Don’t worry, luv. He’s a friend.”
Battat knew enough about addisons; Spamton had told him before about exactly what pipis were after one too many drinks; he had nodded along, pretending to care, bur he'd never... seen one actually chirping and bouncing around.
"Hi." He says, cautious. Ramb just snorts, raising an eyebrow.
“You going to be polite and come closer so she can see you, or are you just going to stand there with your mouth open under that mask of yours?” Ramb teases with a low, rumbling sound that might be a laugh; the pipis coos. Shifting the egg into his other arm, he rubs a thumb against its blue shell. “Come on now. She don’t bite. Not yet, anyway.”
Battat inches his way closer. "It– uh. She? She's bigger than I expected."
“She, yeah. That’s what Tenna calls her, anyway. We won’t know until she hatches proper, but it’s important to give ‘em a sense of self. Helps them get ready to hatch. And of course she’s fucking big, mate; she’s Tenna’s. Everything about the big man is.. well, big.”
Battat feels like he should take off the suit to interact with the pipis; he has difficulty with tactile stuff when he's in it. But… to be honest, he's paying more attention to Ramb. Ramb, who’s humming the TV time tune as the little pipis falls still. The outlet glances up at Battat’s silence, before gesturing for him to come closer.
“You wanna hold her or not, pip?”
The pippins takes another few steps so he's much closer, though still quite a distance away. He can see the little blue egg closer now. It’s… there’s a lump that’s forming in Battat’s throat and he doesn’t know why.
"I.. –lemme take off the gloves." He slips them off hastily, shoving them in the pants pockets for now. He takes a quick glance at Ramb, and he looks so… Soft, so kind. He's been singing to her? That's so... sweet. It's not like he treats the others at the studio badly, but…seeing him from the outside, when he’s focused on caring for something so small, it really.. well..
He doesn't notice he's zoned out completely until Ramb clears his throat. Battat shakes his head, to focus.
“Are you sure it's okay for me to...?"
“Course it’s okay. We’re going to be the ones taking care of her. Well, us and Tenna. Maybe your two friends, if they feel so inclined.” Ramb winks, chuckling to himself like the bastard he is. Right… the other two. The other ‘Mikes’. Battat thinks that over, as Ramb gently deposits the pipis into his arms. It chirps a bit at the new stimuli, wobbling just slightly. “Don’t drop her now. she’ll behave fine, pip. She’s just excited.”
Battat swallows, before dipping his head to get a better look at her "Jongler would probably cry, they're a big sweetheart. As if Plues isn't, too." He admits. He cradles her gently, the costume soft and plush enough so she has a comfortable little pocket to sit on. "... makes sense that she’s excited, if Tenna is her dad."
“Tenna and Spamton,” Ramb reminds him — as if anyone needs reminding. As if anyone’s forgotten how Mr G ran out on Tenna not six months ago.
The pipis, unaware of this, calms down against the plush of the costume, happy as a clam. A beat passes, as Ramb leans back against the cabinet.
“Your costume is new,” Ramb comments, nosy as ever. Battat feels his face go flush underneath the mask. “You taking up unpaid duties there, now, pip?”
"It still, uh, needs a lot of mending." He quickly explains, without really explaining. "I made all the costumes, it's not really unpaid. Takes a lot of time to work on alongside everything else." He pauses. "Huh, I guess it is."
“Yeah. It is.”
The pipis chirps, seemingly in agreement. Ramb laughs, hand going to rub against the eggs shell. “See? Even Foley agrees with me. She’s a smart cookie, this little one.”
"Foley? That's a cute name." The pippins tries to ignore the way his mind goes Oh, he's good with kids, too.
What's the fucking too all about? He needs to focus, this is not something he wants to deal with.
"I'll have to brush up on making dresses,” Battat says despite the way his brain is yelling at him. He pauses. “Well, maybe not. She could be more of a tomboy. What do you think, Foley?" He asks the pipis casually. The pipis simply chirps in reply, wiggling. Ramb laughs again. Battat is starting to find that he likes the sound.
“Well, we won’t know until she hatches. It might be a while yet. S’been about seven months, Tenna told me.” Ramb sighs — that big sigh, the one that translates to I’m too old for this. “She’s talkative, that’s for sure, but she hasn’t even come close to hatching yet.”
Battat doesn't comment. He's seen advertising and some commercials; pipis grow from the magic of two addisons. But, if she's around all of them, all brimming with their own magics, she should be fine… right? She doesn’t need two addisons. Maybe she doesn’t even need one.
"Sometimes it's a surprise. You can never just assume." Battat says, wisely. Nodding. Hopeful. Ramb hums something in reply, straightening up in his stool.
“Makes me wonder if she’s afraid of something,” the outlet comments, leaning over to take another look at the egg in Battat’s arms. “She’s so talkative to me, an’ to old Tenna, but she’s pretty quiet otherwise. You wouldn’t even know she’s there.” Ramb presses his lips together, before pulling back. “Makes me worried, a bit, there. She’s got two volatile dads. Hope that hasn’t impacted her any.”
"Well. if it did, we're all here for her. Besides, with... well, he's gone and that means no more arguments." But that did leave a sometimes very glooby Tenna. And that might be worse, in all honesty. "Just gotta chock her full of love and support. Pipis or grown darkner," Battat hesitates. "...right?"
“Mmh. We can only hope.” Still, Ramb doesn’t look fully convinced, which… makes sense. After all, he was a cyber city native, originally. He probably knows more about Addisons than anyone else in this place.
His unsettled expression gives no comfort.
“Pipis absorb the magic around ‘em to grow. Never heard of one hatching without an Addison around, but who knows? Situation’s odd enough already.”
"Yeah, I've seen loads of stuff but never really… got it. She's active, right? It could be like... radio silence." The pippins tries to shine light on the situation. He pets her shell gently, smiling as she wriggles closer to the warm, cozy plush of the suit. "Delicate just means we gotta be careful, ignoring it just makes it.. weaker? Y'know, like something old and falling apart from disuse. We have to be active." He hopes he's making sense but he could just be saying nonsense.
Ramb hums. Crosses his arms. “Tenna doesn’t want any of you lot to know,” he admits softly. Looks down at his feet, at the floor. “Says that he’s a bit ashamed. Bein’ a single father, and all. He knows how you all feel about Ton, and all. Worries you’ll treat her bad because of it. That you’ll see him as less for takin’ care of her. Only reason I’m in the equation at all is because he knows I don’t give two tosses about what anyone says about anything, and… let’s be honest. He needs someone."
"I..." the dice Darkner looks down at her, how she wriggles every once in a while, peeping quietly through the conversation, as if answering herself. "Well, the other Mike's will probably be allowed, and, like...I probably won't be wanted as Battat, but as Mike I can at least be there for him. And for her."
“Good,” Ramb responds, voice going raspy. “Good. I’m glad for that, pip. She’s going to need all the help she can get. Especially since Tenna insists on this bloody —“ he gestures, “—cabinet thing. I keep telling him it’s not how pipis are supposed to be cared for, but he insists that’s what Ton told him.” A scowl. “Wouldn’t be surprised if he just said yes to whatever Tenna suggested.”
"Don’t start being angry in front of her." Battat chastises gently. “I doubt Tenna wants her thinking bad on…you know, about him. The best we can do is bite our tongues and smile."
“Not angry.” A pause. “Not in a way that matters, anyway. She understands I’m mad for her, not at her.”
Battat winces. He doesn’t have a good reply to that. "I'll... see what I can do about the cabinet, maybe hearing another opinion from Mike will help? And if not, we just take her out as much as we can." He's really adopting the attitude of stepping up. He almost feels excited. A baby. Most darkners can’t have babies, not in the way Lightners do. It’s … new. It’s unique.
Still. Ramb’s fur doesn’t relax; he tilts his head at the little egg, ears low. “We’ll have to take shifts taking her out, then. I know Tenna takes her out plenty when he’s not filming, but she needs something bright. Something warm.”
"Out of the four of us, five including Tenna, we... it should work, right?" Battat asks, feeling the anxiety shimmering just beneath his pips. This is the first time he sounds worried, but he clears his throat. "I mean! Of course it will. Right, Foley?" He asks. She takes a bit, but she does peep! as if she was just processing what he said.
“Maybe we can convince old Ten that Elnina and Lanino are trustworthy,” Ramb mutters, mostly to himself, “They’re his second in command, now that Ton is gone. It’s a long shot, but it’s all that I can think of. Pippins are gossips — no offense — and Shadowmen move in groups, for the most part. Zappers might be trustworthy, but… well. Not exactly the most delicate things with volume and such.” Ramb shrugs. His eyes shift back to the egg. “It’s all we can do for her.”
"We'll be okay! Jongler and Pluey are different, just like me," Battat insists. He knows that through his mask, Ramb can't see his smile, but his vocal inflection has the tone of someone who was. "She's gonna be the superstar of the show, most definitely."
The pipis chirps and peeps happily at that.
“Looks like she likes the idea,” Ramb sighs fondly. “Bein’ a little star. I’m surprised your daddy gave you a name like foley when he coulda given you a flashier name.”
"I think it's cute." The pippins rebuffs. "It's unique! Anyone can be a star, y'know?" He shifts her just barely and she dives back into her spot. "Good to know she likes the fabric of the costume, I can probably get some to add to the.... nest? Is that the right word?"
“Nest, yeah.” Ramb kneels down to open the cabinet, showing Battat what they’re working with. It’s … pretty pathetic, in all honesty. Battat grimaces at the sight. Some old blankets from back when Kris and Asriel were babies, two giant pillows from Tenna’s bed…
A small, red suit jacket and black pants. Far too small to be Tenna’s.
Battat’s eyes avert when he noticed the golden adornment of the back of an envelope still pinned in place. The pippins doesn't comment on its state, even though mentally he lamented it. It could be much better. At least Ramb, from his tone, seemed to agree.
“We can add it to the center,” Ramb says, shifting some of the articles of clothes around. “Maybe make it the inner base layer.”
"I can work with this." Battat said. "I can make something better." He sounds confident. Foley peep!s, and he takes that as further encouragement. Ramb’s expression softens.
“Go easy on Tenna about the state of it,” he says gently. “It’s not like he had a lot to work with… or any proper advice. He gets so scared that he’s doing something wrong that he works himself into a tizzy.”
"Don't worry, I'll do what I always do and help him think it was his idea in the first place," battat explains, rebalancing the Microphone head so it’s not slipping. "Maybe we can at least convince him to move the whole cabinet, if not her nesting spot."
“Bonus room is where he says she’ll be safest. Where she won’t be disturbed by anyone. But … yeah. Let’s try to do that.” Ramb pulls himself back into a standing position, groaning slightly as his back cracks. He tilts his head to Battat and the little pipis. “Seems like she’s fond of you. That’s good. Make sure she knows you out of the costume, too.”
"I'll try, I dunno how much Tenna would like a random pippins around his top secret pipis… but if it can work out, it'll work out." He rubs idly at her shell. The pipis seems quieter, tired. "I hate to put her back." He says, morose. "It must be so lonely."
A beat of silence passes between the two of them. Ramb rubs his stomach, and hums softly.
“Yeah,” he agrees, “me too. Don’t know how long she’ll be till she hatches. Don’t think Tenna has a plan for what to do if she does”
"No plan? So. what, no nursery? Place for her to sleep? Food– " Battat pauses, realizing how his voice is spiking with ever word, and forces himself to take a breath. "Sorry."
“No, don’t be.” Ramb reaches to take the pipis from Battat, cradling her for a minute. She’s warm and glowing; Ramb chuckles softly. “Tenna will make it work, somehow. Though, I don’t know what he’s going to do about feeding her. Baby pipis eat Internet cookies, and we don’t have very many of em here. Might have to bribe an Addison or two to help out with that.”
"I mean, doesn't he have a bunch of siblings?" Battat suggests, clearly trying his best to help. He tugs the gloves back on. "maybe they'd be willing! She'd be their niece, afterall."
“Oh, I don’t think they’d be any help, not unless there was dark dollars involved. Ton was never fond of them, and frankly I don’t blame him.” Ramb runs a thumb against the pipis. She chirps, maybe a little sleepy? before Ramb tucks her in the crook of his arms and rocks her. “They’re bloodthirsty things. Always looking for a sale. Ton hated that life. Wanted something more for himself”
Battat’s stomach drops as he watches the outlet soothe the little egg. He fidgets with his gloves. Looks down at his fake red bow tie and his black shoes. "I guess I can relate." He says, albeit not sounding the happiest that he and Spamton had a common trait in any way. "Well, she won't have to deal with them."
“No,” Ramb agrees, “She won’t. She has a very full family even just on her da’s side. Isn’t that right?” He adds, bumping his flat face against its blue shell. “You’re right in for a load of luck. Gonna learn all sorts of things. How to work cameras, how to act, how to gamble…”
"Maybe not how to gamble," the pippins chastises Ramb a bit, laughing, "Buuut she can learn sewing and costume making." Battat glances around, still fidgeting with his hands. "I'm sweating to death and Tenna's not here, do you mind if I take the costume off?"
“Have at it. I don’t know why you put it on in the first place. Everyone here already knows who you are underneath… except for maybe the big guy.” The pipis has quieted down. Ramb keeps rocking, shifting the egg from one arm to the other as he turns around, back now facing Battat. “Go on then. We won’t look, promise.”
"Hardy har." he deadpans before popping the head off. He unbuttons the suit and then unzips, and hops out, wiggling a leg to get the rest of the costume off. He straightens his tie and brushes off his poncho, folding up the costume neatly and setting it aside.
"Better." He sighs.
“There you are, pip,” Ramb snickers as he turns back around. The pipis makes a little sighing chirp. “Feels better to come out, eh? Bet it heats up to thirty-seven in there, easily. Maybe even forty degrees. Couldn’t catch me in one of those silly costumes.” He boops against the shell again. “Are you gonna dress up like Mister Mike, luv?”
Battat puts his hands on his hips. "I worked hard on these costumes, you know! I could make her a princess costume, an astronaut... oh, she'll be needing her own TV Time blazer." He reaches out to stroke his hand against the pipis a bit. "But if you wanna be Mike, you can. Just don't tell on me to your Daddy."
“I think even if she told, he’d pretend she’s playing pretend.” Ramb offers up the pipis again. “Here. You should hold her while you’re out of costume.”
He laughs, "That's true." Battat shifts to take the pipis carefully. She seems to wiggle in confusion but, similar to the Mike costume, she likes the softness of his poncho.
“See? He’s an old softie, Bats is. He just wants to make sure you’re safe. Just like your Da,” Ramb coos. He moves close, until he and Battat are almost touching, as his hand moves to rub against the eggs shell. “Shh shh. It’s alright. It’s okay.”
Oh. Oh.
OH, oh no. No. Noooooo.
HIM?
He's staring at Ramb, eyes wide, without even realising it. He's just had an epiphany and it's making his brain explode. Ramb, not paying any mind to Battat, of course, is oblivious to the realization. He continues to rub a thumb up and down the shell, and the little pipis chirps happily.
“See? She loves being around people. I bet she’d be the darling of the studio if Tenna let her shine.”
Battat clears his throat, nodding. "She's gonna be the darling, once she hatches." He turns his attention back to the pipis and hums. She jumps; he stops, and she shivers. "Oh, she likes when I hum?"
“Tenna’s got a radio fixed in there,” Ramb says, tilting his head to the cabinet. “Listens to the tv time recordings and backstage chatter. Seems she likes it when things are lively.”
"Makes sense, Tenna likes it, too." He hums a tune, something different than the TV Time theme, and smiles as she wiggles, almost dancing. He makes sure to keep a good hold of her.
“Well! Lookit that. You’re a natural, pip,” Ramb praises, clasping a big hand against Battat’s back. “You’re doing just fine with her. Knew you would! Knew that excited little head of yours would take to pipis rearing like a duck to water.”
Oh, Ramb’s hand is big, and warm...
He feels his cheeks bloom with mint coloured blush. "Thanks."
“Of course, luv. Only telling the truth to you, honestly. You’re pretty good at whatever you dedicate your mind to” Ramb grins wryly. Keeps his hand against Battat’s back. “I know I can trust you and your friends to look after her when I can’t.”
The blush is more akin to an avocado colour now. Battat wonders if Ramb is doing this on purpose. What a prick. "I-I do my best, yeah. Thank you." He looks down to the pipis. "I'll get Pluey and Jongler to visit, they'll love her."
“Oh, no doubt,” Ramb agrees. “I don’t know much about those two friends of yours, but they seem like good people. Real good people. She needs that in her life.”
"And she'll get it, whatever she needs we'll get it for her." Battat assures. "I'm sure Tenna will spoil her, but we will too." She chirps happily and he laughs a bit. Gently petting the shell with the back of his finger.
“I’m sure that Tenna will appreciate the help, pip. I know I do,” Ramb says appreciatively. The pipis wiggles more, and Ramb uses his other paw to hold against the part of her shell that Battat isn’t. They’re so close now. “He… he’s in a right bad state, he is, but hopefully time will heal him.”
"Y-Yeah." He feels like his heart beat is too loud. Ramb can't hear that, right? Right? NO, of course he can't, that'd be preposterous. Battat is losing it. Is this because he’s imprinting on the baby? But wait, isn’t that the other way around? "All wounds heal eventually." He manages to stammer out. "They scar, but they heal."
“Pretty big wound there. But hopefully, we can handle it.” Ramb leans down, knocking his flat face gently against the pipis again. It wiggles and chirps, as if giggling. Ramb laughs too, soft and husky, as he keeps himself there. “She’ll be glowing, alright.”
All Battat can do is nod at that, unable to decide what to say and so he just chooses to stay quiet. He's busy having a crisis during this, so he's glad to stay silent. His voice might crack or something else embarrassing.
A few moments pass, before the pipis wiggles again. Ramb takes initiative to tap against her shell. “I think she’s ready to rest in her nest,” he suggests. “You can collect that nesting material at your own pace. I’ll do what I can to keep her comfortable until then.”
"I can get it pretty quickly. I mean... I could make her an actual nest bed if that's needed." He offers. Gives him something to do when he's not waiting at Tenna's beck-and-call.
“Nah, mate, just the material. We can work with what we have. You work so much that I wouldn’t be surprised if you clocked in the day after you keel over.” Ramb snorts, shaking his head. His ears flop. “Don’t worry. I can make do with what we have here.”
"...Fine, I'll hold back for now." Battat grumbles. "If you need anything I'm here. Anything at all.”
Foley wiggles, peeping quietly. She's tuckered out. Ramb hums softly.
“It’s alright, sweetheart. We’ll get you tucked in and you’ll be sleeping in no time. Which lullabies do you want tonight? Your daddy’s? Or papas? Maybe I can make a mix tape somehow so you can get ‘em both…” Ramb babbles gently to the little egg as he carries her back to the cabinet. Kneeling down, he settles her among the blankets and clothing as best he can. His eyes turns a little sad, twinkling in the dark. “I’m sorry. Just a little longer, lovely. Alright? We’ll get you a proper nest and hopefully Tenna will move you somewhere with a bit more warmth.”
Battat is quiet, a little in awe of this different side of Ramb. He's never been mean or anything bad to the green pippin, but he also hasn't shown this... softness. Has he? He's doing mental gymnastics trying to tell if he missed something so endearing.
"We could get a little space heater." He offers. "If he doesn't wanna move her, maybe one of those sun lamps."
“A sun lamp sounds good. Afraid a space heater might be too much in such a small space. Don’t wanna fry her, sunny side up.” Ramb laughs dryly. He knows it’s not that funny. The pipis, settled in her blankets now, gives a final, soft little chirp as the power strip tucks her in. “There we go. I’ll see you in the AM, duckie.”
Battat remains quiet, kneeling down to collect the costume in his arms before he speaks, in a hushed voice, "We should go, right? I kinda feel bad leaving her..."
“I’ve got half a mind to take her out and just deal with Tenna’s wrath,” Ramb admits, “but i know if he opens the door and doesn’t see her, he’ll probably have a power surge, and I can’t deal with those like… like he could.”
The he goes unnamed. But do they really have to name him? Battat’s face falls but he nods. "You're right." Looking as the cabinet closes, though, he feels a nagging feeling. "Should we try and explain? I'm not the king of addison biology but he's gotta listen to one of us, right? Especially if one of us is Mike?"
“I’ve tried,” the power strip replies, perhaps somewhat bitter. “Over and over. Told him I’ve known my fair share of Addisons. But he says that he said this was the right way. Dark spaces with music. Damn twit buys anything that the bastard was selling.”
"Hey, don't talk about him like that." The green dakrner frowns. "If my… ex-partner had a, check-list.. I don't...... look, all I'm saying is Tenna latches onto stuff. He'll warm up if enough of us speak up."
“I’ll talk about Ton however I bloody well please,” Ramb shoots back, turning his head to look at Battat. “Let’s face it. It’s been half a fucking year, pip. He’s not coming back, and he doesn’t give a damn about anyone in this studio. It’s best that we move on.” He’s scowling. His hand is clenched into a fist at his side. Battat shuts his jaw before he can provide an argument. He’s never seen Ramb this…this angry before. “I won’t forgive him.”
Battat knows he wasn't really a friend of Spamton's, not in the least, but he... well, he had a whole wall for Mike, the section of Spamton in the story was brief. Like, it's true they didn't get along, but... to speak ill of the dead seemed… a bit too far.
“Fucking pain in my arse,” Ramb adds, ignorant to Battat’s inner feelings. “Always making friendly, pretending that he’ll always be here for Tenna. Acting like we were the best of friends, all until Tenna decided he wanted permanence. Assurance. Wanted to raise their child together proper.” His glare narrows. Ramb straightens his shoulders, and sighs. “… I thought we were friends. Turns out Tenna was just a mark, and I was just in the way of him taking aim.”
"I don't think Spamton was the kind of guy to do that." Battat says, careful of the landmines around him. "His brothers, maybe, but he wasn't advertisement hungry or anything, he was different. I.. don't like him, but he made Tenna happy! there has to be some weight to that."
He felt like maybe talking shit about the pipis' other dad in front of her was a bad idea; he reached to tug on Ramb's shirt to lead him away. Ramb follows, hand digging at the fur around his ear and tugging.
“He tricked me too,” he mumbles. “I trusted him. I trusted him with Tenna. Tenna would have been happy with a bloody — a cyber pup, Spamton could have given him one of those if he planned on leaving.” He swallows. Ramb looks — more than anything, he looks hurt. “I wouldn’t have told Tenna to trust Spamton if I hadn’t. And he made a fool out of me.”
The pippins is silent, opening the door to let Ramb out, and following before closing it shut. He saw one last glimpse of the cabinet, and he couldn't imagine the dark she was feeling. "Tenna told Mike that he thinks there was a reason to more than just that."
“He left because Tenna made him sign that contract!” Ramb grits his teeth. He looks angry. Furious. A far cry from the mellow bartender he portrays himself as. “Tenna was terrified of him leaving. Wanted to have an assurance that he wouldn’t. Frankly, I’m surprised it took as long as it did! Tenna’s — you know how he is! He’s — trying, prophecy bless him, but he struggles. I didn’t see the harm in having Spamton sign on. He never went back to cyber city anyway — at least he had the choice to go to home.”
Battat steps back, eyes wide. He doesn't know what to say, he really doesn't. So he just nods. "You're right, yeah."
Battat and Spamton never got along, like, ever, but Battat knew something was going on; all his snooping around to figure who Mike really was, well. He wasn't all Big shot this and what have you. He …was an awful darkner to leave Tenna as he did, but...
He couldn't get his thoughts straight as he began to doubt the hope he had, for Tenna's sake.
“I just…” Ramb takes a breath and blows it out, sharp and angry. Swallows, as he moves a little faster down the narrow hallway. “I trusted him. I don’t — I don’t trust people lightly, Pip. I didn’t trust him when he came here, but he seemed to prove himself over and over…
I don’t want Tenna to suffer. He needs to move on from that spammy mailman.”
"I'm sorry." He says. "It seems to really upset you, huh?"
“Yeah. Yeah, it has.” Ramb’s face darkens a little. He scowls, quiet and angry. “Not much can upset me. But this? Playing with Tenna’s feelings? … can’t stand it.”
He nods, quiet. Was … Spamton really playing some game? Sure, the addison wasn't the best guy but why bother with TV Time, knowing how glooby and exciteable and volatile Tenna is at times?
"W-Well, we shouldn't stay here too long or Tenna'll rush in and my cover would be blown."
“… right.”
Ramb tightens up his smile. He looks sad, still, somehow. The outlet pats gently at Battat’s shoulder. The pippins ignores the shiver his body crawls up his spine at Ramb's touch, standing straighter to try and look more confident. “Let those other two know about her too. Show em how to hold her. How to sing to her. I can trust you with that, right?”
"Okay!" Battat’s voice cracks, and he winces. Shifts the suit in his arms. "Okay." He tries again. He gives Ramb a confident (semi-confident, that word isn't necessarily in his vocabulary) smile.
They go their separate ways — Ramb to the bar, like he always does — and Battat tries to ignore the gaping hole he feels burning in his stomach.