Chapter Text
11 o’clock in the nighttime, 2.8 inches of rainfall, and a violent growl.
Was there really a worse time to be hungry?
Unfortunately for Purple, going out for a snack run wasn’t an option as they sold their rainboots to buy food for Heracles. It was all a matter of poor timing; it hadn’t rained on Grandis since Purple was born. They COULD just go out barefoot at this point because they had little to lose, but they weren’t too keen on getting trench foot.
Trench foot! The same condition that affected burned out soldiers a number of years ago! The embarrassment of getting it in the present day was enough for Purple to clear their mind of the idea of stepping out entirely.
Unlike the act of touching grass, the fridge seemed to be reasonable. There had to be something in store for the couch-ridden crewmate, right? Even though they weren’t much of a cook, Purple could still fry an egg or two, as they learned during their intern days. They loved their eggs scrambled, and it was totally not because they were the easiest kind to make. In the moment, they could live without seasoning, but was there even any cooking spray left? Who knows. Regardless, their ability to wield a pan would not be the most tested in this predicament.
Purple, who let themselves go due to the combined efforts of not getting enough of their steps in and stress eating after getting fired by MIRA, was now too much of a lazy bum to get up. Purple tensed up at the thought of pulling themselves towards the sky, but they couldn’t just do it. Their current position was simply too comfortable to let go of, not to mention their sleep deprived state of mind. They could be held at knifepoint right now and they still wouldn't budge.
It took ten whole minutes before Purple’s stomach filed another complaint, finally giving them the motivation they needed.
Dragging their feet along the creakiest of floors and pretending to ignore the yellow circles on the ceiling, the slouched figure finally managed to make it to their favorite home appliance. A comforting low hum and a slight breeze emerged from the fridge when its gate was opened. Purple could not help but feel that one of their senses was still not fulfilled. Their visor filled with disappointment when all that was laid in front of them was a half-finished crudité and a single serving of pita bread.
There sure is a lot in here… I’m not going to bed until I’m full…
After shutting the door of the hunk of metal that’s supposed to contain their only desire at this point in time, Purple retreated to base with a dramatic sigh as they landed. A desperate hand reached for a cracked screen that was being sandwiched between a hip and the waistband of a pair of gym shorts, followed by a slightly enthusiastic “got it!”
So, it’s come to this…
A thumb hovered over an icon with plain text below that read Crew Eats before lowering itself to come into contact with the screen. A wonderful array of options presented themselves, but Purple only wanted the cheapest (and somewhat delicious). Amongst the plethora of fast food locations was Tan’s Chicken, a new place only a quarter of a mile away. Purple didn’t hesitate to give it a shot; after all, a three-piece meal was only $35.99.
To account for the mean weather, a generous tip was also reluctantly made. The concept of tipping made Purple sick, but they really didn’t want to wait for someone to accept their order. As Purple liked to quote, “I don’t tip. I don’t believe in it,” or whatever that movie once said.
Your order has been accepted!
Estimated Time of Arrival: 11:58 P.M.
Great. Another 40 minutes of starvation.
With a grin on their face, Purple shot a quick glance to their left to make sure Heracles was holding on; the fishmate stared back without emotion. How typical. Even though a fishmate was their only source of living emotional support, it was still enough for Purple to get through the day. As for emotional pedestals that weren't capable of thought, they weren’t quite as healthy. In fact, it was…
Time for a cigarette….
Their trembling fingers reached for a pack on the coffee table...
...
..........
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Empty…?
If there was one thing to learn from Purple, it was their stubbornness. The failed crewmate landed on all fours upon dropping to the ground, their visor opened wide. They began scouting the floor for a stick that wasn’t there. Their fingers clawed through carpets and drew lines on the walls. The television stand was displaced and chairs were toppled over. Nothing of value was discovered. Is this how it all ends? Would the stress finally eat them whole? Of course not, Purple always planned ahead instead of focusing on the present.
Wait… the spare…
A single “emergency” cigarette was always neatly shoved between the cushions of Purple’s usual domain, only needing to be replaced roughly every two weeks. The bean took short and needy breaths to stall the anxiety for as long as possible, not knowing when their order would truly arrive.
12:01 A.M.
Late as always, I bet they’ll forget the straw too. They might as well forget all the food I ordered… At least I’ll have my money back when I’m in bed with my intestines feeling like they’re tied in a knot. Hell, maybe the driver drowned on their way here. I’ll just have to fry Herac-
Ding. Dong. Someone made their presence known.
Purple nearly dropped their cigarette in surprise, appalled that someone actually brought what they paid for. They wished they could do the same for someone else. Unemployment felt like a premature purgatory for Purple; it's a shame they were blacklisted everywhere thanks to MIRA.
For the first time in months, Purple got up from their couch without any need to ponder. They were starving, feeling like they could bite their arm off at any moment. The dash to the front door was faster than they could blink. The doorknob was starting to look edible as well, but the door itself had to be opened somehow.
Two things made their way into Purple’s lowered view when they slowly opened the way into their only home: a bag containing their food and a pair of red Crocs.
Damn it all.