#helpfulyellowinkling

At long last, Finn had completed the painting he’d promised Jesse. It’d taken much more time than he’d predicted, on account of his preoccupation with agent work . . . but it was finally done! Having already texted the other squid directions to meet him at his house, he was giving the picture one last look-over before he covered it with a white cloth.

“Do you think he’ll like it?”

He spoke to another guest, leaning over him—he’d invited Marina, in the hopes that he could have his friends make friends. The redheaded Octoling was certainly more extroverted than he was, which would help.

“Do you want me to say ‘no’ this time? Of course he will, it looks great,” she chided him, jolting upright as she heard the chime of the doorbell . “I’ll get it.”

“But it’s my hou—”

Too late, she was already halfway there.

Finn’s parents’ house was rather large and ornate, inside and out. It wasn’t a mansion, but a number of the antique furnishings were telltale signs of the kind of salary the homeowners had. Such signs included the great grandfather clock in the entrance hallway, which Marina huffed at in irritation and surprise as it struck the hour. Ignoring the din, she opened the front door wide.

“Are you Jesse? Finn’s in the next room over.”

It was another one of those days. After a near-sleepless night, Finn had crawled out of bed, put on his glasses, and failed to find his contact lenses to replace them. Not feeling like turning his entire room upside-down to search for them, he left to visit Marie, but with a further stroke of bad luck, it seemed like she wasn’t around today. Agent work was postponed for now. That was fine, he could play some Turf rounds instead. . . but as soon as he’d started having fun, he proceeded to lose five matches in a row. It really wasn’t his day.

Having had enough, Finn stumbled out of the lobby-- and so did everyone else. Caught in a rush of people, he was shoved hard in the back by a passer-by, causing his glasses to fly off his face and land somewhere out of sight. If things had been bad, this was worse. Whichever individual that caused the careless action had already thrown a ‘sorry’ in his direction, and been lost to the crowd. The mint-hued Inkling was left, bleary-eyed, attempting to scan the area for his Retro-Specs. They had to be around here somewhere. . . and hopefully hadn’t been crushed in the stampede. 

Instead of discovering them, however, he noticed another Inkling (perhaps? It was hard to tell for certain in his haze) nearby that hadn’t been swept away by the lobby-leaver’s troop.  They seemed near enough to ask, anyway. 

It'd been a few days since Finn had met Jesse in the square. Almost a whole week, in fact.

He hadn't forgotten the other Inkling's kind offer to take a gander at his artwork, and had secured permission to bring him to the studio a day after, but. . .

. . . Finn had been apprehensive, and stalled the visit. Maybe Jesse was just being polite . . . and it was always possible that he'd be unimpressed with the work he had to show. After five days of stressing over the pieces he should put out, he’d finally decided on:

-An indistinct shape or figure made entirely out of small pieces of metal and wire,

-A painting of some squid, octopus and jellyfish friends he’d seen in the square,

-A model plane he’d mentioned on their last meeting, composed of spare wood pieces,

-A (presently unfinished) clay sculpt of a crayfish,

and surprisingly,

-His most recent Marie painting, wearing her kimono and gazing wistfully into the distance.

Now that they were all set out, there was really only one thing left to do. Taking a deep breath, the artist knew it was time to text Jesse. He was a little too shy to call him directly.

“Hey, Jesse!” he typed as if he were writing an essay, “I got permission to let you inside the University Studio.  Do you have time to come see my work today? Now, maybe? I can meet you outside the main entrance. Also, do you need directions? If you can’t make it, I understand. くコ:彡”

Callie dressed in what seemed to be dark clothes seemed a little odd to Jesse. He didn’t know why that the joyful pink idol Inkopolis knew was all the sudden a really big fan of the dark. The yellow inkling had his eyes locked on at the idol, who’s now walking to an nearby alley. “Why is she goin’ there?” He questioned himself. “Maybe…to see Spyke?”

It’s not Spyke’s alley she’s headed to. He didn’t really hang around at night anyway, not out in the open, though the plaza was a relatively safe place even at this hour.

“Can I have your autograph?” Jesse hands out a pen and a piece of paper, ready for her to sign. He had never felt this so happy in his entire life since she said his name.

@helpful-yellow-inkling