"Ah, what a gorgeous day we're having." the Diamond King mused, lazily slithering forward while looking around, mesmerized by the beauty of his own kingdom. "Isn't that right, my dear?" he asked, turning back to look at the Darkner whose hand he was currently holding - a small Pippin with unusual yet lovely green eyes and pips. The dice was staring at a group of other, red, Pippins, but he looked up at the royal the moment he was addressed. "Oh, yes, your majesty. It really is pretty today."

It was indeed a gorgeous day. Birds were singing, flowers were blooming; the weather was warm and as sunny as it could get in a Dark World. The Diamond King often went out walking, but that day, he was even more eager to do so. He looked away from the other and let his gaze wander all around. He saw the tree branches slowly swaying from the slight, refreshing wind, his subjects enjoying the beautiful weather outside, and a few wooden carriages passing by on the road. He took a deep breath and sighed, taking in the subtle smell of flowers lingering in the air.

Ah, Spring. The mother of all seasons. The time when everything grows and life thrives the most. When everything is green and the world is woken up from its deep, Winter sleep, refreshed and ready for another year. Could there be a better time for a walk with the king's treasured messenger? Certainly not. Thinking of which, the king wondered, did he adore that season as much as he did? The young one had always preferred the golden colours of Autumn, especially during his childhood - collecting and drying leaves he found particularly captivating. The king had to admit - the collages he created with them were, in his opinion, absolutely marvelous; but surely, he was also able to appreciate the blossoming beauty of mid Spring.

With that in his mind, the king turned his head back to look at the green Pippin. "My treasure, do you-" he cut himself off the moment his eyes focused on the other. Or, more specifically, on the long chain of more than a dozen dice that had formed behind him, either casually chatting with each other or looking around. The messenger looked up at him with an oblivious expression, as if completely clueless to the fact that he was holding hands with not only the king, but also a different Pippin. He tilted his head a little, confused at the surprised look that appeared on Diamond King's face. "Yes, your majesty?"

The king blinked a few times, as if seeing whether he was just hallucinating from any possible allergies. When he realized that he was, in fact, not high off of pollen, he tried to gather his thoughts, though it was a bit challenging due to the fact that he was rather taken aback that such a huge chain had managed to come about so quickly, right under his nose no less. "Ah... My dear, it seems as though, um.. we might have some company..."

The small Darkner let out a questioning hum before looking behind himself, his eyes widening as he realized what was going on. His gaze quickly fell onto his hand, as if just noticing it wasn't empty anymore. "Oh!" he let out a short exclamation, his face heating up in embarrassment. He looked back up at the royal, now with a more bashful expression. "S-sorry, your majesty..." he muttered out. The king, despite being caught off-guard, smiled gently at the shy apology. "It is alright, my treasure. There's no need to be ashamed, it is just your instincts." He then looked up to focus more on the long chain. "That.. will require some work, though." he said, awkwardness creeping into his tone as he thought about the inevitable battle to separate the dice.

Spamton didn't fully realize what was happening. One moment, he was sitting in his dressing room in front of his dresser, feet resting on top, rehearsing his lines for the next ad segment. And the next? He was limp on the floor, barely conscious, feeling dizzy and numb. The papers were gone from his hands, probably having been dropped when he fell down with his chair. He could hear a few concerned voices shouting something he couldn't make out, and multiple footsteps rushing his way. How did he get in that situation? Nothing better to do while being unresponsive than to silently go over and regret all his life choices up to that point.

The day started off as normal. His clock alarm rang irritatingly loud, as always. His eyes twitched. He had already woken up before it went off, but it didn't make the sound any less annoying. He was hoping he could stay in his bed for at least a few more minutes before he had to pull himself up for work. Apparently not. Reluctantly, he moved his hand up and slammed his palm against the button on his digital clock, effectively shutting it up. He slowly sat up, his messy back hair covering his eyes. He just sat there for a moment, as if processing that he was, in fact, still alive and obligated to show up for work, before sighing and running his hand through his bangs to get them out of his face. He sat still with his hand in his hair for a short while before pushing his legs off the bed.

The next thing he knew, he was already standing in front of his bathroom mirror, brushing his teeth before anything. The room was cold and sickeningly sanitary. He didn't even bother putting in a rug. His striped, red and yellow, TV TIME™ branded pajamas hung loosely on his. When he was first given them by Tenna, they fit just fine. But that was early on in their partnership. He's lost weight since then. A lot of weight. Not that he was chubby back then, not at all. But he still remembered the time when his wrist bones weren't so visible. As his toothbrush moved back and forth in a repeating motion, his eyes drifted under the sink. Down there, next to a gray, plastic basin, was a dusty, modern scale. He felt nauseous at the mere thought of using it. He had no idea what number would show up if he stood on it, and he dreaded finding out. He didn't have to. He wasn't forced to. He looked back at the mirror, speeding up his teeth brushing. He wasn't going to.

He leaned against the cold kitchen counter, waiting for the coffee machine to finish brewing his beverage. He ran his tounge over his teeth. He really shouldn't have brushed them before his morning coffee, but it was already too late for that. And he definitely wasn't going to brush his teeth twice like an idiot. He felt his red suit hang from his body about as loosely as his pajamas did. He was afraid to think about how childish and incompetent he looked in that moment. The fact that he did feel childish and incompetent was another thing that he didn't even dream of getting to anytime soon. He fixed his yellow tie uncomfortably, eyes glued to the mug that was being filled with the desired black liquid. The smell made him feel ill.

Turning the machine off with the knob, he picked up the white cup, somehow still cold despite being filled with hot coffee. He put it up to his lips and took a sip, his lips twitching slightly in disgust. It was as bitter as ever, just how he remembered it. And yet, for some reason, he still refused to add any sugar or milk to it. He let out a small huff from how hot it was. He could feel his tongue get burned, but he just wanted to down his drink as quickly as possible, so he decided to suck it up and drink it. As he did, his eyes wandered to the fridge. His stomach tightened, feeling both hungry and full at the same time. He looked away - he'd get sick if he kept thinking about food. His eyes stopped at the oven. The top of it was covered in dust. When was the last time he used it? He would usually just heat up TV Dinners in his microwave. He didn't have time to cook anything fancy. Nor did he even want to. Whatever was on his plate felt gross to him anyway, might as well save up some time and energy. He smacked his lips together quietly as he finished the coffee. He glanced at the clock. His brain couldn't process what time it was.

The car rode unusually slow for Spamton's standards. His grip on the wheel was weaker than normal. He didn't trust himself to drive any faster that morning. He should've noticed that he also shouldn't trust himself to go to work by the way that the usually clear speech of the radio host he put on now sounded like absolute gibberish, with the only thing recognizable about it being the familiar slavic accent the salesman had gotten used to. It should've set off alarm bells in his head but it was already too late - his mind was too foggy to recognize just how concerning everything that was happening really was. He brushed it off as just him not caring all that much about what was being said and continued driving. Maybe he'd feel better once he woke up more. The lively studio will surely fix him up. There was no doubt in his mind about that. Which wasn't necessarily reassuring, considering there was nothing in his mind at all other than one, simple goal: get to work.

When he did, however, it didn't quite work as well as he would've liked. He definitely wasn't as dazed as he was during the car ride, but he still wanted to go back to sleep just as much as he did when he had woken up that morning. Him longing for his bed wasn't anything uncommon, but he couldn't remember the last time it was so intense. He even caught himself trying to lay down and take a nap on one of the couches in the Green Room. He only realized it when a Shadowguy shot him a weird look for his posture being so slumped, a stark contrast to the confident and serious way he usually held himself. The difference was so stark that even Tenna took notice.

"Rough morning?" he asked with a wide but worried smile as the two of them sat by the bar. Spamton couldn't even remember how he found himself there - was it break time already? It felt as if he had just entered the building. He rested his arms on the counter, staring off at nothing in particular. "Uh... Yeah, guess so..." he mumbled out a response. "Mhm." the other hummed before speaking again. "You know, as much as I admire your dedication, maybe you should've stayed at home if you weren't feeling well? Don't get me wrong, the audience simply ADORES you! (Not as much as they adore me, though.) But I'm sure they would've much rather to see you tomorrow at your best after a well-deserved day off than see you today, at, uhm..." he hesitated for a moment before clearing his throat, his smile getting a little crooked. ".. your seventy five percent."

The businessman didn't answer right away, rubbing his eyes with his hand, letting out a quiet, tired groan. "I'm fine, Tens. Ugh... Just need a..." "Coffee?" a different voice finished for him. He looked up to see Ramb already sliding a mug of espresso towards him. No milk, no sugar - just how he hated it and how he always asked for it. He stared at the beverage from behind the hair that fell over his eyes. "... Thanks..." he murmured. The Plugboy chuckled. "Don't even mention it, luv." he said before walking off. Spamton glanced at Tenna to see him eyelessly glaring at the bartender for some reason. He always had it out for the guy and no one other than the two of them knew why. Not that anyone even tried to pry; Ramb was too secretive and Tenna was too explosive. It was a futile effort either way.

Eventually, the CRT looked back at the other, his expression softening into a more genuine smile. "Alright, alright, I get it. Don't talk to me until I've had my, probably second, morning coffee, right?" he gently nudged his side with his elbow, earning a lighthearted eye roll. "Oh, be quiet. Not everyone's as energetic as you in the morning. Even though you're now, what? Fifty?" the TV let out a mock-offended gasp. "Pardon!? I'll have you know, fifty isn't THAT old, thank you very much!" he exclaimed, crossing his arms dramatically. The tired man let out a small snicker. "My bad, grandpa." he teased back, although not nearly with as much vigour. His side was nudged again, this time with a little more force. "Oh, enough, you rascal!"

They both chuckled before Tenna straightened up, regaining his composure. "But, seriously, if you feel like you need to take a five, just.. do so, okay? No point in pushing yourself when you're not feeling your best." he advised sincerely. But Spamton waved his hand dismissively at him." Eh. Don't worry 'bout me, I'll be fine. One bad morning never killed anyone." The showman smiled at the other's seemingly carefree response. "You sure?" The salesman scoffed in an overconfident manner. "Please, it's gonna take more than that to take ME down!"

Come to find out, it DIDN'T take more than that to take him down. Back in the present, he could somewhat recognize his limp body being picked up and carried somewhere, but he had yet to process that fact properly. He felt as though he was back in bed, blissfully half-awake, free of any plans, tasks, chores and other responsibilities. Just him and his bedroom, dimly lit by the sun curiously trying to peek in through the blinds. There was a disconnect between his mind and his eyes. It was dark. It was like all the colours were inverted or something of the sorts. He could somewhat see a silhouette of someone familiar over him, though he couldn't make out their expression. Meanwhile his brain was imagining warm, white sheets, gently lit by the golden rays of sunshine. Comfortable, lazy, time frozen in place, everything one could want from a morning. No rush, no pressure, no nothing. Just him and his bed. Just him and...

He didn't know how long it had been since he passed out, but, finally, his vision cleared up. He squinted his eyes as they were hit with the white light of the studio. Almost immediately, a hand that wasn't his moved up to shield his face from the sudden brightness. "Are you back??" Tenna's voice rang out in his ears. Spamton's pupils slowly moved around, taking in the sight before him. Hovering above him, as always, was the ridiculously tall CRT. His gloved hand was casting shade over the other's eyes so that they could get used to the light without hurting. His screen was facing him, looking extremely worried. It took a moment for the salesman to register that his head was on the TV's lap, as he was sitting on a couch, too stiff to have been one of the Green Room's couches. His office's couch, probably. And yet, Spamton couldn't bring himself to feel embarrassed. In fact, he couldn't feel much of anything, other than a strange fear that he couldn't quite place.

"... Yes..." he muttered out weakly, as if he had just woken up from a deep sleep. Tenna let out a sigh of relief, a small smile creeping onto his face. "Oh, thank the Angel..." The businessman's gaze shifted to the side, falling onto a comically large desk with a comically large armchair behind it. Yup. He was in Tenna's office, alright. He looked up again. "What.. happened...?" he murmured the question out, his mouth running faster than his brain. The other frowned, looking a bit agitated (though mostly from worry). "Oh, I'll tell you what happened!" he started with a sort of disappointed tone that Spamton hadn't heard ever since he moved out of his mother's house. (Questioning the implications of Spamton having a mother as a Darkner is highly discouraged.) "What happened is that SOMEONE just INSISTED he was fine; and then that SOMEONE PASSED OUT right before his segment!"

The salesman stayed quiet for a moment, silently processing the accusatory tone he was being spoken to with. "... Poor sucker..." he mumbled, making Tenna's expression shift into fury. "YOU!! IT WAS YOU!! YOU'RE THAT SOMEONE!!" he yelled, causing the weakened co-host to chuckle a little despite the situation, somewhat proud of riling the other up. Seeing him snicker, the TV's irritation dimmed. He let out an exasperated sigh and rubbed the bridge of his nose with his other hand.

At that moment, Spamton shuddered from a sudden coldness. Only now did he realize that Tenna's other hand was laying over his stomach like a blanket, something he didn't previously notice. Seeing that, the CRT's expression softened and he placed his hand back on the other. "Right... Your body's colder than it should be, you know." The smaller Darkner looked down at the much bigger hand. "Yeah...?" The showman sighed again, this time more somberly. "Yeah..."

It was quiet for a moment, before he spoke again. "You're sick." The co-host looked up at him. He wasn't sick. Not in the way Tenna thought, at least. But was he really going to tell him the truth? He was already freaked out enough. Besides, what good would it do anyway? "... Yeah... I'm sick." The hand on his stomach clenched a little, though not painfully. "I knew it... Why didn't you tell me? I would've let you go home and rest." Because he wouldn't have understood it. "Cause it's funny seeing you so worked up." Not even Spamton himself understood it.

The show host sighed loudly for the third time. "You're UNBELIEVABLE, you know that?" The other chuckled again. "Yeah... But that's what you love me for." Tenna let out a snort and gently bounced one of his legs that Spamton's head was on, an alternative way of a swat since he couldn't exactly move his hands at that moment. "Oh, quiet, you brat." The salesman smiled slightly and turned his head to look over to the side. His gaze didn't focus on the desk, nor the armchair. He stared at the floor. The cold, hard floor he hit when he fell. His head would've probably ached terribly if he could feel it, but it seemed like the pain didn't register at all. His small smirk fell into a subtle frown. How long can he go like this before, one day, he passes out and doesn't wake up...? A cold shiver went down his spine at the thought. He didn't even realize when he gripped the other's thumb with his hands. How long until his body couldn't take it anymore...? "... Spamton?"

"Are you SURE you can drive now?" Tenna stood over the smaller man's car with his hand on the top edge, leaning on it with his arm. Spamton looked up at him from the driver's seat, holding the open car door. "Oh, calm down, will you? It's been almost two hours, I'm fine." The CRT sighed. "I know, I know... I just don't want to be talking about you during the news segment tomorrow!" The salesman let out a scoff and rolled his eyes with a slight smirk. "Relax, I'll live. I drove in worse conditions." The TV's nonexistent eyebrows furrowed. "That is the opposite of reassuring." The businessman chuckled, making the other huff but also smile a little. "Fine, fine, I'm done. You're PROBABLY gonna be okay." He pat the top of the red car. "Just be careful, racer." The salesman nodded and closed the door. Tenna let go of the car and stepped back, watching it start with a growl.

Jongler looked around before typing the code on the cat-shaped keypad and entering the Mike Room. They slithered in, quietly closing the door behind them. It was Mike's day off that day. In fact, it was everyone's day off! They weren't sure exactly why Tenna suddenly announced a day off, hiding in his room and refusing to go out, but it was better not to argue with the boss; especially since, well, day off! There was no guarantee if they'd even get a second one like that that year, so everyone unanimously agreed not to question the showman's strange behaviour and just enjoy the pleasant surprise to the fullest.

They shuffled out of the main room and down the short hallway. There were a few rooms there: a kitchen, a bathroom, an empty room and, of course, their shared bedroom. It wasn't as though they didn't have rooms of their own in their assigned living quarters, but they would have rather slept together than with Darkners of their kind. They've always been the odd ones out of their species in one way or another.

Jongler headed to the bedroom and opened the door, surprised to find Battat standing on a chair by their (also shared) wardrobe, trying to reach something from the 2nd from the top shelf. That.. didn't look safe. Especially not with how the Pippin wobbled while standing on his tiptoes. A sort of protective Zapper instinct shot through the tall Darkner, making them tense up. "Boss?? What are youse doin'??" The sudden question startled the other, making him flinch and almost lose his balance. He gripped onto one of the shelves not to fall and turned to look at the newcomer with wide eyes. "Ah! D-don't scare me like that, rubberbrain!!" he squeaked out, his face heating up slightly.

Jongler's visor furrowed in concern. "Dat's dangerous, boss!" They quickly slithered towards him and put their hands under his arms, gently picking him up. His face grew more pink at that and he started squirming a little, letting out small grunts in effort, but their grip on him was too secure for him to be able to wiggle out. "Don't be doin' dat. Youse gonna get hurt." they scolded lightly as they carefully put him down on the floor. The short Darkner huffed and shook his head, trying to brush off his embarrassment. "Relax, will you!? I'm just trying to get something! What was I supposed to do!?"

Jongler put their hands on their hips. "Still, youse could'a fell and den what? Youse too small to be goin' dat high without help!" Battat's face turned pink again. "I don't need help!!" he exclaimed, waving his arms to try and make himself look more serious (it didn't work). "I'm NOT a kid!! I can get stuff on my own!!" The Zapper sighed and shook their head. "What did youse even want anyway? Youse shelf is da second one from da bottom." The dice stopped waving his arms, letting them fall as he suddenly went quiet. His face heated up. "..." Jongler's visor scrunched up in confusion. "... Boss? What do youse want?"

Battat looked down at the floor, his fists clenching against his sides. "... The Miku hoodie..." he mumbled out, barely loud enough for the other to make out what he said. The Miku hoodie... Jongler wasn't exactly familiar with Miku, but they could somewhat recognize the character from what Pluey had told them. The Shadowguy was somewhat obsessed with her, so they tried to understand as much as they could (though they got lost when he started trying to explain to them what a "voicebank" was). But what they definitely DID know was that he had a white hoodie with a huge print of her that he wore only inside the Mike Room when he wasn't wearing his Mike costume.

"Da Miku hoodie?" They tilted their head in confusion. "But ain't dat Plues's?" The Pippin was quiet for a moment. "...Yeah..." he muttered. Jongler couldn't help it, their visor softened. It was rare for Battat to ever ask for anything, and it didn't help that he looked so endearing doing it so timidly, like a kid asking for something he wasn't supposed to. They just couldn't resist that small, flustered face, even if they knew they should. That was partly why they fumbled their job as a Zapper so badly - they were just too soft to say no sometimes, especially when it came to the mischievous but painfully adorable Pippins.

They sighed before turning towards the wardrobe. They reached up and skimmed over Pluey's clothes before they found the hoodie. It wasn't too hard to make it out - it was the only piece of clothing that Pluey owned that wasn't either black nor pink. They took it out, careful not to wrinkle the other clothes, and handed it to him. "Dere ya goes." Battat looked up meekly, appearing surprised that they actually gave it to him, before he quickly snatched it out of their hands, as if he was stealing it or something, and ran towards their triple bunk bed that they shared.

It was rather tall - it definitely wouldn't have fit if the ceiling in the studio wasn't so ridiculously high - with a light wooden frame and barriers. The bottom bed, belonging to Jongler, was the largest - it lacked any pillows or blankets, only a stiff, hard mattress. Only a Zapper could possibly want to sleep in such conditions. The second bed, belonging to Pluey was of an average size - it was absolutely filled with blankets, pillows and plushies of characters Jongler didn't recognize. They had no idea how the Shadowguy could even fit with all that in there. Also, they could've sworn every time they looked at it, there was a cat sleeping on it. And finally, the smallest, top bed, belonging to Battat - it had a blanket and a few pillows, along with fairly lights that were hung on the barrier. It was rather small and close to the ceiling, but it didn't bother the short dice much.

The Pippin quickly climbed up the ladder onto the top bunk and hid underneath his blanket. Jongler stared after him, confused as to what exactly he wanted to do with the hoodie. It was a size M - two or even three sizes too big on him, depending on the design. Couldn't he have just taken one of his own blouses? Well, there was no way of asking him now. With a small sigh, the Zapper grabbed one of their cowboy hats from the top shelf of the wardrobe and slithered out of the room, quietly closing the door behind them. Their little friend truly was an enigma and, if they were to be honest, they wouldn't have it any other way. Even if sometimes, they wished they could've known what was going on inside his head...

Jongler sat on the couch in the main Mike Room with their cowboy hat on, reading a book. They turned their head towards the door when they heard it open, and their visor squinted upwards when they saw Pluey walk in. "Hey Plues! How'za been?" The Shadowguy closed the door behind him and let out a cheerful tune. Clearly, whatever he was doing went well. "Well, I's happy to hear dat." they said before turning back to their book. The other made his way down the hall and towards their shared bedroom, whistling a casual tune as he walked.

... A few moments later, he came back to the main room, letting out questioning notes Jongler's way. The Zapper looked up at him. "Hm? What's wrong?" Pluey moved his hands up and put them on either side of his head, sliding them down to gesture a pair of ponytails. Then he slid his hands down his coat to gesture at his clothes. It took a moment for Jongler to process all the gestures before what the other was trying to say finally clicked. "Ah, youse Miku hoodie?" Pluey quickly nodded. The Zapper felt themselves getting a little embarrassed, guilt starting to bubble inside of them as they remembered what happened not so long ago. "I's, uh..." They rubbed the back of their head. "I's gave it to da boss..." they admitted hesitantly.

Pluey looked surprised at that, letting out a confused tune. Jongler's visor squinted in slight shame. "He asked for it, so I's gave it to 'im... Sorry, Plues..." they explained apologetically. The Shadowguy smiled at them and waved his hand dismissively, as if to say that everything was alright, making the Zapper let out a small sigh in relief. He tilted his head though and whistled another confused note. "I's don't know whys boss wanted it either! He didn't say nuthin', just dat he wanted it. Didn't get to ask 'im either - scurried off to da bed. No idea what for, tis' too big for 'im." Pluey put his hands on his hips and nodded in understanding. He pursed his lips together in thought before he let out another tune and headed back towards the bedroom. It was about time he checked on that hoodie thief.

The Shadowguy entered the room, closing the door behind him and looking straight up at the top of the bunk bed. He quickly headed towards the ladder and swiftly climbed up. He would've expected any other Pippin to steal it, but Battat? Since when did HE have sticky fingers? The Shadowguy knew it was in the Pippins' nature to sometimes snatch things, given the fact that they were adrenaline junkies, but since when the theorist act on those impulses? Was it a momentary loss of control? Or something else?

He climbed up the wooden ladder on the side and peeked into the smallest bed. He could see a suspiciously dice-shaped lump underneath the blanket. With a sly smile, he grabbed the edge of the blanket and, without hesitation, pulled it towards him, sliding it off whatever (or rather, whoever) was in it. Battat was laying on the mattress, curled up in the white Miku hoodie, so big on him that it looked like he was in a sleeping bag; it even covered his legs, and the hood was over his eyes and almost reached the edge of his nose. He was sleeping comfortably in the huge (on him) piece of clothing, not even noticing the blanket being snatched off him.

Pluey's expression softened at the cute sight. It was probably the most adorable he had ever seen the grumpy Pippin be. Suddenly, the whole stolen hoodie fiasco made sense - he'd be lying if he said he also didn't enjoy wearing oversized clothes, stealing them from Jongler from time to time. But he would've never expected Battat to do so as well! He wished Shuttah was there to take a picture - it was simply precious.

But alas, he couldn't just stand there and gush over the other forever. He gently nudged the other's side, which earned him a sleepy grunt. He did so a few more times before he heard a huff. "Wha..." The dice slowly sat up, the hoodie falling from his head, revealing his drowsy face. His tired gaze settled on the Shadowguy. With his mind foggy from just waking up, he moved his hands up to his face, the sleeves sliding down to his elbows, and rubbed his eyes with his knuckles. "What do you want..." he mumbled hoarsely. The other Darkner let out a small chuckle before he poked the Pippin's chest.

"What-..." Battat looked down at himself and his eyes widened, just realizing that he was currently wearing Pluey's stolen hoodie. His face quickly grew pink in embarrassment as the Shadowguy crawled onto the bed. "I, uhm-" he started to try and explain himself, flustered, but he was cut off when the other's hand made its way onto his side again, this time pinching it. The dice let out a startled squeak before bursting out into giggles as he kept being prodded at. "H-hey!" He shifted to lay on his back and tried to push the hand away. "Cut ihit out!"

Pluey, in fact, did NOT cut it out. Instead, he quickly slipped onto the bed from the ladder, sitting on his knees and towering over the smaller Darkner, and started attacking the other's stomach instead, relentlessly poking and picking at it. Battat's giggles turned into laughter, squirming beneath the other's ticklish torment. He still tried to push him away but it was fruitless as the Shadowguy didn't budge at all. "Pff- nahahaha! Stah- stahahap!" he giggled out. "Ihihi'm sohohohorry!! I'm sohorry, Ihi'm sohohorryyy!" he pleaded but it was in vain, as the other didn't slow down. His hands switched between his stomach, his sides and his ribs, too fast for the Pippin to catch them or defend himself against them. He couldn't help but start kicking uncontrollably, though it didn't seem to bother Pluey. The weak kicks against his knees didn't do much to deter him from getting revenge for his hoodie. He let out a mischievous tune and lightly scratched right under his ribs, making the other let out another squeal.

It went on for a while - a couple minutes or so. Battat's face was completely pink at that point, having given up on trying to defend himself and just curling up on his side, hiding his face in his arms. He kept apologizing through his laughter, more mindlessly than anything since it clearly wasn't working. The Shadowguy, on the other hand, was having the time of his life, taking all his mischievous tendencies out on that little hoodie thief. He was grinning the whole time, his hands always keeping up the pace. But, eventually, he decided that that was enough for now. A bit reluctantly, he slowed down, his fingers trailing down the other's stomach before taking them off. The dice stopped apologizing, panting and giggling a little as he tried to catch his breath and regain composure. He moved his arm away from his face and opened his eyes to look at Pluey, who was smiling at him with that wide, stupid smile of his. The Pippin let out a flustered huff and looked away in embarrassment. He could've sworn he heard the other let out a melodic chuckle.

Battat's eyes then drifted onto the hoodie he was wearing. Right. He should probably... He sat up on the bed, grabbing the hem of it. He was about to take it off to give it back when he felt a hand being placed on top of his, stopping him. Surprised at the sudden gesture, he looked up to see the Shadowguy's grin had softened into a kind smile. He let out a reassuring note, gently pushing the other's hands down from the hoodie. The theorist's eyebrows furrowed. "You don't want me to give it back to you?" Pluey shook his head before he playfully shoved him, making him fall back on the bed. Before Battat could react, he was swiftly tucked in with his blanket. The other patted his head a few times, letting out a friendly hum as if to say "it's fine" before he slipped out, climbing down the wooden ladder. Pink on the face again, the Pippin watched from between the barrier as the taller Darkner jumped down, skipping the last few steps, and, almost soundlessly, walked out of the room, closing the door behind him.

He kept staring at the now empty room for a moment before shifting back. Despite the embarrassment from the whole situation, he had to admit, he felt quite comfortable with how the Shadowguy had tucked him in. He couldn't help his eyelids from growing heavy. He settled in under the blanket, his head falling back down onto the pillow. He let out a quiet yawn before closing his eyes, falling asleep and continuing on with his nap in the oversized, comfortable, Miku-branded hoodie.

Pluey walked back into the main room, heading towards the couch where Jongler was still reading their book with their cowboy hat on. They lifted their gaze up when they saw him sit on the sofa. "Hey, youse back. How's it go with da boss?" The Shadowguy stretched out and let a melodic note. "Good, huh?" He nodded and laid down, curled up like a cat. It was quiet for a short moment before the Zapper spoke up again. "I's were thinkin'... How 'bout we get da boss his own Miku hoodie?" they asked, but the other quickly shook his head. They tilted their head. "No?" "♪♪♪ ♪♪." Pluey hummed before pointing at himself with his thumb. "Oh, youse don't mind lendin' it?" He nodded before tucking his arm under himself, getting comfortable before dozing off. Jongler stared at him for a few seconds more before shrugging and turning back to their book.

///

The digital clock on the nightstand rang its annoying alarm at full volume. It beeped repeatedly and ruthlessly, without a care for the little Pippin that it was waking up so harshly. Battat's eyes slowly fluttered open. Well, as open as they could while his eyelids were practically glued together by sleep. He was facing the ceiling, laying on his back. He reached his arm out towards the clock but quickly moved it back with a pained grunt as a sharp pain shot throughout his whole chest. What a lovely way to start the day.

With a bit more caution this time around, he reached for the clock and turned the alarm off. He turned his head to look at the time. It was six in the morning, just like it always was when he was being woken up. Why did he even feel the need to check the time? He sighed and put his arm over his forehead. It was way too early to already be suffering. The others weren't even awake yet. They usually got up at seven, as the Pippins started work at eight. Battat liked to come to the studio early though to work on the theory corkboard and avoid the rest of his kin. (And maybe also show off his dedication to work so that someone would eventually notice, but only a little. Only just a little.) He couldn't imagine actually sitting down to have breakfast with them. He usually managed to avoid having meals with them but from the times he didn't, he knew it was complete and utter chaos. And he wanted no part in it.

Still, with how things were going, it seemed like he wasn't going to get up so early after all. He assumed that the pain was from stress, which was usually the case for any unexplainable aches he had, especially right after waking up. Well, at least he knew what was wrong with him (probably). It didn't really help his case tho. It still hurt when he tried to get up. He let out a short, annoyed sigh. He was just going to have to wait it out. He still had a lot of time before he needed to clock in, the pain would surely subside after a while. It couldn't last forever. He just needed to be patient.

He zoned out pretty quickly, losing track of time. The pain wasn't as bad when he just laid still but it didn't go away either. He didn't pay it much attention though, as he was deep in his own head. That was, until he was pulled out of his thoughts by a noise coming from the outside of his room. A soft pitter-patter of multiple footsteps along with cheerful chatter. A little dazed, he looked over at the digital clock. Three minutes past seven. The other Pippins were already up and awake and the pain didn't even lessen. Great. At that point, he was going to end up being dragged to eat breakfast with them the moment he stepped out the room. IF he was going to step out, that was. His torso still ached.

And if that wasn't enough, his mouth felt dry. Lovely. He looked over at the nightstand where the clock stood. A small lamp, some papers, Ibuprofen.. and an empty glass. Right. He probably drank all the water from it when he woke up that night. His eyebrows furrowed slightly. Something to drink would be amazing in that moment, not just because he was thirsty but also it might've been able to help with the pain. Hydration helped with pretty much everything, after all. Or at least he'd be able to take the Ibuprofen that was laying right within his reach. He COULD swallow the pill dry but that didn't mean he wanted to.

If he could just grab the glass and make it to the kitchen or the bathroom to get some water. He wasn't in THAT much pain, right? He was confident he could get up on his own and make the short trip. He put his hands on the mattress. Well, there he went. He slowly pushed himself up, just to fall back down with a loud, pained groan. Well, there he not went. It hurt more than he anticipated. Way more. The sharp pain was relentless, keeping him better off laying than even trying to move. He put his arm over his eyes with a sigh. Amazing.

He didn't have much time to lay there and contemplate the meaning of his suffering as he heard a voice call out from behind his door. "Greenie? That was you?? You're STILL in your room???" Battat froze, startled. Only now did he realize just how loud he was. And now they knew he was still there rather than in the studio. That wasn't good. He didn't have nearly enough strength and energy to deal with them at that moment. He decided not to respond and to stay silent. Maybe they would brush it off as just their imagination or something. "Come on, we know that was you! Don't try to pretend it wasn't!" he let out a quiet, defeated sigh. Of course they wouldn't fall for that. He should've known better than to get his hopes up. It was like they could read his mind half the time. "Ugh... Yeah, I'm here! Just.. go on ahead, I'll catch up!" he responded, doubting that they would actually listen to him.

And they clearly didn't, as he was given a more teasing response from another voice: "You?? Catch up to US?? What, is it opposite day today!?" he could hear three different voices laugh. Awesome. As if dealing with one of them wasn't enough already. "Oh, just quit bothering me and scram, you lowrollers! I'm not in the mood!" he shouted. "Are you EVER in the mood tho?" a third voice chuckled. He'd be lying if he said it wasn't true, he was never in the mood to deal with them. But that morning he ESPECIALLY wouldn't be able to suffer through their teasing. It didn't seem like he had much of a choice though, as more laughter rang out from the already noisy hallway. "What's wrong, greenie? Scared of little, ol' us~?" "Awh, come on, greenie! We aren't gonna bite, we pinky promise~!" "Feeling a little lazy? You can trust us, we won't snitch to Tenna and ruin your perfect, hardworking image~!" Battat let out a quiet groan and put his arm over his eyes, trying to ignore the playful remarks and snickers. But one thing that he couldn't ignore was the constant aching in his chest. His eyebrows furrowed. He underestimated how much it actually hurt and he was starting to feel desperate for any sort of relief. What was he even stressed about? He had gone to work a thousand times already! Why was it hurting NOW, out of all days?? It was infuriatingly nonsensical. And the three other Pippins outside of his room weren't making it any better.

The three others... He bit the inside of his cheek. As much as he hated to admit it, they COULD be of SOME help. If only he were to ask them for a glass of water, surely they'd get it for him, right? Maybe it would be able to lessen the pain, at least a little. On the other hand, though, was he really about to ask THEM for help? It wasn't like he was on bad terms with his kin, but he wasn't all that fond of them either. To him, they were quite annoying and completely out of control. He could still hear them laughing by the door. He avoided talking or interacting with them as much as he could. He couldn't stand them most of the time. He lifted his arm up a little to look at the door. But would they really refuse to get him something as simple as water? They would most likely tease him for not being able to get it himself but...

He squinted him eyes and let out a defeated grunt. He was going to regret this... "Uhm... Hey?" he called out, weaker than he meant to. The giggles quieted down out of curiosity. "Yeah?" one of the voices asked, still a bit giddy. Battat hesitated for a moment before responding. "Can you, uh.. get me some water..??" he reluctantly requested. It came out much more vulnerable than he wanted and he was mentally kicking himself for it. The snickers went fully silent. An awkward moment passed before a different voice broke the tension. "You're.. asking us for water??" "Uhh..." he grimaced. "... Yeah...?"

"... Um..." the voices sounded perplexed at the admission. It was quiet again before the same voice spoke up. "Why can't you get it yourself?" He didn't answer right away, not sure what to say. Tell them the truth? Lie and make it sound better than it actually was? Make it sound WORSE than it actually was? Trying to gain pity? Try to AVOID pity? His mind was running every possible scenario at light speed, but it was clearly not fast enough as the Pippins, tired of waiting for a response, decided to come up with their own assumptions. "What, you feeling THAT lazy?" " Aww, does somebody want some extra attention from us~?" "Maybe he's just feeling lonely and needs an excuse for us to stay for longer~!" they laughed, clearly not taking the situation seriously. Battat pressed his lips into a thin line, growing frustrated but also desperate. They wouldn't do anything unless he told them the reason, would they. He tried to come up with something but his mind was drawing a blank. Screw it. It's not like it could get any worse than what it was now. "My chest hurts."

The voices went quiet almost immediately. The air felt heavier as tense silence settled in. Battat felt his gut twist. The regret was instant. Damn it. Maybe he shouldn't have admitted that. "... What?" The green Pippin closed his eyes tightly, already regretting everything that led him to that point. "My... My chest hurts. I can't.. get up..." It sounded so ridiculous now that he said it out loud. He can't get up because his chest hurts? Yeah, right. He should have just sucked it up. He wasn't a kid anymore. His eyelids pressed together tighter, to the point where his eyes felt a little sore and he was seeing colours. He was sure they were going to say something snarky or mocking. Why wouldn't they? They had every right and reason to. He was being pathetic and embarrassing.

"... R-right, we're getting you the water! Just hold on, we're gonna be quick!" one of the voices stated after a moment of stunned silence. The other two hummed in agreement. Wait, what? Battat didn't get to respond as he heard three pairs of footsteps scurry off. He opened his eyes, absolutely bewildered. Wait, were they ACTUALLY going to get him water? Just like that, without laughing at him or anything? He looked at the door. It had to be a joke, right? They were probably going to come back with a bunch of other Pippins to mock him or something. There was no way THEY would help him. Why did he even think they would just a few minutes ago?? Was he in so much pain and desperation? Was he delirious from pain? Well, he felt sober enough now to realize it was a stupid idea. He groaned and snatched a pillow from underneath his head, shoving it over his face instead. He was such a gullible idiot.

He didn't get to beat himself up too much though, as the familiar sound of three sets of footsteps hurried towards his door. He lifted the pillow off of his face to look at it, just before it started to open. As it did, he saw three Pippins peeking into his room, one opening the door, one holding a glass of water and one just looking. All of them wore concerned expressions, somewhat hidden by their forced smiles. They ACTUALLY did get him water. And without laughing at him for it! Well, for the most part, anyway. Battat felt sick looking at them, especially because of how sincere they seemed. It was a different unpleasant feeling from being mocked. It was much, much worse. He hated how they looked genuinely concerned. He hated to see the pity on their faces. And he hated just how good the thought of them caring enough to do this felt.

"Hey..." the Pippin holding the glass started in a disgustingly (in Battat's opinion) soft voice. "We've got the water... Anything else you want us to grab for you...?" The suffering dice grimaced, half from pain and half from the caring question. He would've much rather have them laugh at him at that point. He just couldn't make up his mind about how he wanted them to act, could he? "No..." he mumbled out, putting the pillow away. The Pippin with the water gently pushed the door open and walked in, the other two shuffling behind him with a hint of hesitation, feeling slightly uneasy with the unfamiliar situation. He reached his hand out to the laying Pippins to hand him the glass. With a grunt of pain, Battat slowly lifted himself up with his arms, wincing as he moved himself back and leaned against the headboard. He took the water and quickly put it up to his lips, taking a generous sip.

He coughed a little after he was done, lowering the glass onto the nightstand. He felt slightly better. The pain in his chest was lifted a little. But only a little. It didn't help nearly as much as he expected, and wanted, it to. He let out a hoarse, quiet whine and laid back down on his back. It was quiet for a short moment until one of the three Pippins spoke up. "Are you.. feeling better now...?" Battat exhaled through his nose. "No." he stated bluntly. "But you can leave now. Um.. thanks, I guess." he murmured that last part. He couldn't believe he was thanking THEM, of all Darkners. Just his luck, he supposed.

But they didn't leave, not yet, at least. They stood in place awkwardly, as if not knowing what they should do in that situation. The green Pippin internally rolled his eyes before closing them, externally this time. He figured if he didn't speak to them, they'd leave eventually.

That was what he thought, until he suddenly felt a new weight place itself onto his chest.

His eyes immediately opened, wide in surprise as he took in the sight before him. One of the three dice laid his head down on his chest, putting a gentle and warm weight on it. The rest of his body was on the bed, right beside the suffering Darkner. The other two quickly followed suit, getting on the bed as well. One of them even laid down over his stomach, making the third one giggle. The mood seemed to have lightened from that previous discomfort.

Battat cringed, not from pain, but from the fact that they were SO dang close right now. They were TOUCHING him, for Angel's sake! That was WAY closer than they usually were! He put his hands on the head of the one on his chest and started to try and push him off, albeit weakly. "Ugh, get off!" he groaned. The other chuckled. "Nope! We're not leaving you here dying all on your own!" "Yeah, we're not!" another one giggled. The grumpy Pippin let out a grunt but stopped pushing him, opting to lay his arms over his head instead. If he were to be honest, it was quite.. nice. He'd never admit it, but the warmth against his chest felt quite pleasant. And, for some weird reason, it seemed to ease the pain a bit. Not to mention he could feel the tension in him relax. There was something so nerve-wracking about skipping work alone, even for a valid reason, and something so comforting about having someone skip work with him FOR him. But he'd never dare to say it out loud. He'd be done for with all the teasing material that'd bring for the future.

"So, what exactly did I give up my bedroom for?" Battat asked in annoyance as he followed a pair of Pippins who were sprinting in front of him, leading him to the new room Tenna had given him. He didn't know the details, but, from what he could gather, the others wrote some sort of petition to get.. something. He was surprised the boss agreed to it, but after learning that the cost of it were all of their bedrooms (Battat's included), the sudden "generosity" suddenly made much more sense. Still, the two dice seemed excited, giggling to themselves as if the cost was completely worth.. whatever it was that they requested.

"Oh, don't be so grumpy, greenie!" one of them spoke up. "You're gonna see it's MUCH better than some boring ol' bedroom!" "Yeah!" the other one added. "Everyone's already loving it!" Battat scoffed. "Well, it's not exactly hard to impress you all." They didn't respond to his comment as they kept leading him somewhere. They passed the hallway that led to what used to be their rooms and instead continued forward. They made a turn later, down the corridor with their shared kitchen and dining room, and headed towards the end of it. The green Pippin raised an eyebrow. There was.. a door. There never had been a door there before. When did Tenna add this?

"Come on! We're almost there!" One of the two dice opened the new door and quickly slipped in. The theorist hesitated for a while before following them. He went in and closed the door behind him, looking around. It looked like some sort of changing room, just lacking a place to sit. There stood rows of red lockers with faux golden numbers on each one. There were lots of them, one for each Pippin, Battat assumed. And that meant there were LOTS of them.

"Hurry up! We'll show you yours!" They giggled again. "We even made sure yours was green!" They headed left and ran between the first and second row of lockers. He was stunned for a short moment, caught off-guard, before he snapped out of it and went after them. "H-hey!" he called out. "What's all this for!?" he asked but they were too far away to hear him. He was VERY confused. He assumed they asked for something stupid like a playground - they usually bothered Tenna for ridiculous things like that. But this seemed actually somewhat thought-out; and that fact made him somewhat anxious, since it was COMPLETELY out of character for his kin to be serious about anything.

He rushed after them, going down the same path that they did. They were standing at the end, grinning widely as they stood by a green locker. He quickly reached them and stopped to look at it. It was about a head taller than him. There was a string that was coming out from the gap between the upper edge of the door and the top of the locker, with a key tied on its end. There was also a number up there: "512". 512? There was no way he ran past 511 lockers. He looked at the one next to him. 323. Of course. Of course they weren't numbered properly. He couldn't help but let out a sigh of relief. Yep, that felt like his kin again, alright. He should've known that that seeming organization wouldn't last long. He felt silly for thinking otherwise for a second.

"Your stuff's already in there, so you don't even have to move it! We've got everything covered!" He looked at them. "When did you and Tenna have time to set this whole thing up anyway?" he asked, but they just shrugged. "You always ask such silly questions, greenie! Stop overthinking it for once!" Battat opened his mouth to defend his reasonable question, but he didn't get to say anything as one of the two grabbed his wrist and started dragging him somewhere. He tripped over his feet a little before picking up the pace. He sighed. What was even the point of asking them anything...

They eventually reached a door on the opposite wall to the entrance. The Pippins let him go and stood on either side of it, giddy with excitement and anticipation. "Now, are you ready to see the HEAVEN we got Tenna to make us!?" one of them asked, shifting from leg to leg. The green dice rolled his eyes. "Enough with the fanfares, just open the door already." "Awwh!" the second one whined. "You're no fun!" "Fine, fine!" the first one exclaimed. "Act like you don't care all you want, but once you see it, you'll HAVE to admit how amazing it is!" And with that, the Pippin grabbed the doorknob and opened the door. Battat's eyes widened in surprise. That was.. not what he was expecting.

It was a HUGE room, with the floor covered in countless mattresses. There were LOTS of pillows and blankets. It looked both like a playground at a mall and a mental asylum at once. There were other Pippins, huddled up together in groups. Some were talking, lots were playing cards, few were reading, most were sleeping. They didn't pay any attention to the door opening, either out or too caught up in what they were doing.

The whole room was a bed. It was just one, huge bed.

While Battat was certainly taken aback, it wasn't THAT illogical. Pippins were social creatures, painfully so. There was nothing better for them than to cuddle up with one (or more) of their own. Not only that, but they tended to get anxious if they were separated for too long. Back when they still had bedrooms (which was exactly one day ago), they'd share one bed in groups of four, five, sometimes even six. Now? Most groups in there had at least a dozen of dice all over each other. It made sense, it was just something Battat hadn't expected. Nor did he ever think Tenna would agree to something like this.

He couldn't help his cheeks from going a little pink at the sight. He was used to his kin's overly affectionate ways (though he always tried to avoid being a part of them the best he could), but this was a bit much. The idea of all Pippins in TV World sleeping in one, giant bed (him included) was a bit much. Especially since he was the only one who didn't have any roommates before this...

"Soo, what do you think~?" one of the two Pippins that led him there asked. The theorist didn't respond at first, still a bit stunned. "... I'm... I'm gonna ask Pluey if I can move in with him..." he eventually muttered out. The two dice giggled and one of them grabbed his arm. "Aw, come onnn! Don't be like that!" Before Battat knew it, he was dragged into the room, his feet sinking in the ridiculously soft mattress. He stumbled a bit before regaining his balance. He could feel his face grow hotter. He was standing there. He was actually standing on what was essentially an unbelievably giant bed, surrounded by his kin having the coziest time of their lives being snuggled up to one another. He was participating in their clinginess just by being there and it was more than what his isolated, touch-starved self could handle all at once.

The other two ran past him to join one of the scattered groups. He stood there awkwardly, not really sure what to do with himself. Was he supposed to leave? Was he supposed to stay? Was he supposed to.. join someone? Suddenly, being the odd ones out hit him more than it usually did. He swallowed dryly. He felt like an idiot just standing there like a lost child, but he wasn't sure what exactly he was meant to do. No one paid much attention to him, already occupied with each other. He COULD go up to one of them and join, they'd surely love an extra buddy in their cuddle, but...

Instead, he just sat down where he was standing. He sat cross-legged and stiffly stared at the others. He felt like a creep, watching them being so touchy with each other, but they didn't seem to mind. They never did. He looked down at his feet, grabbing them with his hands. This was so awkward... And to think he'd have to come back and SLEEP there during the night was just... He knew this wasn't about him - that was what the others wanted, and he couldn't say no when it was just him that was uncomfortable. Not that he was really able to change anything at that point. But the whole situation made something flutter in his stomach in a nauseous, but also weirdly warm, way.

He let out a small exhale. It was going to be fine. He would just.. find himself a corner to settle in or something. Away from the others. Away from their affection. Away from their warmth. His eyes wandered over to one of the groups which was napping, snuggled up with each other for comfort. Away from their... Away.. from...

His throat tightened.

What did he even want?

His eyes slowly fluttered open, his eyelids almost glued together by sleep. The first thing he saw was the ceiling, dark from the lack of light and the late hour. The next thing he saw was a different Pippin, laying with their head on his chest, fast asleep. By that one was another, arms wrapped around them, their head resting against Battat's side. He stared at them for a while with drowsy numbness.

It was still late. He didn't exactly remember how he got into that situation, his mind foggy after just waking up. And yet, he couldn't help but smile slightly at the warm, comforting weight on his torso. He put his arm over their chest and looked up at the ceiling again with a quiet, content sigh, exhaling through his nose. Did it really matter how he got to that point? He closed his eyes, drifting off again.

For once in a long time, he didn't need to know.

Oh no. Small Mike ran down the hallway, barely avoiding all the other employees. Oh no, no, no. Tenna was in a foul mood today and, surprisingly, rightfully so. Everything had been going wrong since the morning: cameras not working, lights burning out, curtains falling, contestants late, all that jazz. It's been going on up until the afternoon and the whole studio was running ragged trying to fix all the technical difficulties. Of course, Tenna took it the hardest. He was the show's host, after all, and a very emotional one at that. It was already terrible as it was, but maybe it wouldn't have been so bad if the ratings didn't drop either. The viewer base of today was almost half less than average, which was probably what pushed Tenna past his breaking point.

Tenna's breaking point. Usually, it manifested in him screaming bloody murder and snapping at everyone who dared appear in his line of sight. Sometimes, he'd even knock some things over if he was feeling particularly hopeless. But today, it was worse. Way worse. Instead of causing absolute havoc in the entire studio, he had shut himself alone in the broom closet. For someone who didn't know Tenna, it might've sounded better than what is considered usual. But for the studio crew? They would've much rather been yelled at. The TV shutting himself down like this made him completely uncooperative, refusing to leave the small room. And that meant that the show absolutely could NOT go on. A show without a host? A show without a host was like a movie without actors!

Hence Small Mike's rush and panic. He was already completely exhausted as he was; Jongler and Pluey were stuck at their out-of-costume shifts, so they didn't even get a moment to slip off and change places with Battat the whole entire day. He felt like his legs were going to go numb and disconnect from his body. He was panting like a dog, barely able to catch a breath through that tight mask he was wearing. Wearing his costume was absolutely nightmarish with how many layers it had, and in that moment, he was running as if the personification of death itself was chasing after him. As if he hadn't been running around the entire building for over seven hours now. He was sure his heart was going to explode after the adrenaline wore off with how fast it was beating. And if that wasn't going to be the case, he was, at the very least, going to throw up his nonexistent breakfast.

He silently thanked the Angel when he finally reached the door of the broom closet. He came to a screeching halt in front of it, putting his hands on his knees as he breathed heavily. His lungs were burning as if he was sick. He coughed a little before gulping, trying to pull himself together. Slumped, he lifted his hands from his legs and knocked on the door with as much strength as he could. "Th-... Tenna? You- huff... You in there, friend??" It was quiet for a moment, before: "... Go away..." a faint voice responded. Ah, damn it. That wasn't good. Small Mike grinned weakly, forcing on a more cheerful and charismatic tone. "Come on, buddy! You're not gonna let your ol' Mikey in?? Let me see ya, I just wanna talk!" he called out with false positivity. In reality, he felt absolutely pathetic and helpless. But what was he supposed to do?? "... There's nothing to talk about..." His grin twitched, faltering a little. "Well, there's always something to talk about with ME around! They don't call me "Motormouth Mike" for nothing!" It went quiet. Tenna didn't respond for some time. Battat gritted his teeth, clenching his fists. He felt the urge to kick the door and scream at Tenna, to tell him to get over himself and that he couldn't just- "What are you feeling."

His expression went blank in confusion. "Wh... Pardon??" he asked, bewildered. "... Are you feeling Pluey...? Or cowboy-ish...?" Battat pressed his lips into a thin line, suddenly feeling nervous and small. Way smaller than usual. "... Neither." he answered, more feebly than he meant to. He felt something go up his throat, and it wasn't nausea from running this time. Pluey or cowboy-ish. Two options. Would Tenna rather Jongler or Pluey in that moment? The thought made the Pippin feel awful for some reason. It caused the confidence he had as Mike to start leaving very quickly, and the silence was killing him from the inside. The quiet dragged out for what felt like eternity before the TV host spoke again. "... Come in..." Small Mike let out a soundless sigh of relief, like a weight had just been lifted off of his chest. He couldn't tell whether Tenna sounded disappointed or not, but the only thing that really mattered was that he had his approval. For now, anyway. He took in a short but deep breath in, before coughing again, accidentally choking on air. He cleared his throat when he was done suffocating and straightened up before reaching his hand towards the doorknob.

The door slowly creaked open to reveal Tenna, smaller than usual, with his screen black and on standby, curled up in the far left corner. Despite this, Battat was pleasantly surprised. He had expected the other to shrink down completely, but he was still much taller than him, just a bit smaller than usual. His mood couldn't have been SO bad then, right? He could work with that. "Hehey, boss...!" he chuckled nervously with his heart still pounding in his chest, walking in and closing the door behind him. His hand never left the doorknob, though. Everybody who has ever worked for Tenna knew that the line between sadness and anger was a VERY thin one in his case. And no one ever wanted to stick around for that. Especially not in a confined, secluded space. "How's, uh... How ya feeling? Any better?" Tenna didn't respond for a while before slowly shaking his TV head. Small Mike clicked his tongue and hissed briefly, his grin slightly faltering. "Yeah, didn't think so... Um..." he looked at a wall for a moment before turning his head back towards him. "D'ya want something to cheer you up? A cup of coffee? A snack? An antenna massage??" he questioned, trying to suggest as many possibilities as he could without overwhelming the other. The host didn't respond for an uncomfortable amount of time, sitting almost completely still. Battat could feel his hands getting sweaty underneath his gloves, his grip on the knob growing tighter. Normally, Tenna was painfully easy to read. But now that his screen was off and his body gave away nothing, the Pippin could feel his control over the situation slipping, and it made him feel like he was going to suffocate because of it. That, or because his lungs were still burning from exhaustion.

"... Come here." Tenna eventually spoke in a quiet, neutral tone. The other was caught off-guard, his expression going blank for a moment before he forced on a wide grin. It was fine. There was ONLY a 50% chance he was going to be used as a stress toy and squeezed until his ribcage would break and fall apart! He managed to gaslight himself into believing that the 1:2 odds weren't so tragic a long time ago. He hesitated for a moment before reluctantly letting go of the door handle and slowly approaching him. Tenna, however, seemed to have gotten a little impatient. He reached his arm out and wrapped it around the other, swiftly pulling him closer. The startled Darkner ended up being yanked against his chest and held in a firm embrace. Battat's brain short-circuited for a moment before it came back to life. So they were doing this now. Great. Well, at least he wasn't being squeezed to death. But the tight hold didn't help his sore limbs at all. He tried to shift to a more comfortable position, but he could barely move. Amazing. But it seemed as though Tenna was calming down, so he didn't dare to complain. He didn't want to set the other off and make his mood worse than what it already- wait, what was he doing.

Small Mike froze when he felt the TV's hand go under his suit, beneath his padded costume, and rest on his back. Was it an accident? Did his hand slip? But the host didn't even hesitate nor did he move his hand back. Battat felt his heart start beating faster. That was bad. That was REALLY bad. He was touching HIM. Not the costume, HIM. He began squirming restlessly, silently panicking. He wanted to say something but he couldn't choke anything out. He had to do SOMETHING! He couldn't let Tenna realize that he wasn't touching Mike, but someone in a Mike disguise! He couldn't have his boss catching on to the contrast between the soft and round costume, and the cold and boney body he was currently feeling! He recognized himself being held a bit tighter, clearly trying to get him to stop struggling, but he couldn't. He couldn't! He had to think of SOMETHING! To refuse, to move away, to-!

But he didn't even get to find his voice yet as two fingers carefully pressed against the space between his shoulder blades, gently digging in and rubbing the spot. Suddenly, it was as if a switch had been flipped. The Darkner's body was almost instantly relieved of most of the aching and strain, and so was his brain. All his worries had seemingly vanished the moment his limbs stopped hurting, and he couldn't stop himself from going limp in Tenna's embrace. His lungs finally stopped burning. If it wasn't for the unexpected sleepiness that overtook him, he would've been completely bewildered. He had no idea his body had a weak spot like that. Not one that felt so good. Was it something all the Pippins had, or was it just him?

He felt his eyelids get heavier despite himself. He couldn't find it in him to feel anxious about Tenna finding out he was in a costume anymore, not when he was being held so securely. The other's grip grew more affectionate, supporting the smaller Darkner under his legs and against his own chest. The two fingers never stopped massaging the spot and Battat found himself in a state between the real world and dreamland. He could barely tilt his head up to look at the host's head to find that his screen had turned back on, and was staring forward at nothing in particular. "... Boss...?" he mumbled drowsily. "Shhh..." Tenna gently shushed him. "Just let me have this..." he looked down at him and smiled slightly. "Let US have this." That reassurance was enough for the dice to doze off completely, fully slumping against him.

Seeing the other fall asleep, the TV leaned against the wall with a sigh, his tiny smirk faltering. He stared at a wall with a neutral expression for a moment before his hand started to wander. Careful not to wake the smaller one up, it went from his back to his neck, right underneath his head. His fake head. Tenna looked down. He hesitated for a moment. Should he...? His restraint didn't last long, though, and he gently lifted the costume piece up, revealing the sleeping Pippin's head. He smiled again, genuinely this time. He looked so small and innocent, just peacefully napping against his chest like that. If only Battat knew that Tenna knew. The host would've loved to tell him just how endearing he was, even more so than the other dice. If only he knew... But, if he knew, he would stop, wouldn't he? All three of them would. And then, he'd be all alone again. No Mike. No one to feel close with. Even if they weren't Mike, they were still the best thing he could get. And he had gotten used to it. He had gotten used to having them around, peeking underneath their masks whenever he could, subtly accommodating their unsaid, Darkner-specific needs. He liked the three of them for different reasons: the Zapper was awkwardly sweet, the Shadowguy was good at listening and comforting, and this one was just plain cute. All Pippins were cute, but he was especially adorable with all his energy and his little Mike obsession. Yeah, he'd seen the corkboard. And he thought it was just the most precious thing ever. He never got tired of reading through all the new, silly, and even outlandish theories.