A New Era

Chapter 8: A Chance

Ink was supposed to be at his desk. He was supposed to be doing paperwork or awaiting the next client... if he had any.

He had finished his paperwork days ago and, since no one was eager to talk to him about anything, he also didn't have any clients. This is why that, instead of sitting at his desk, he was in his room painting.

He didn't think he was painting anything in particular. To him, it was just a lot of black tendrils wrapping around a soul... ok, maybe he was venting about how oppressive everyone around him was being, but no one needed to know! He was fine... perfectly fine.

He was painting some dark blue into the tendrils when someone knocked on the door. He looked over in confusion at the door. Why would someone be here to talk to him?

It was another minute before Ink remembered he supposed to answer the door. He quickly put his paints down before running to the door. He opened it a crack and saw, to his surprise, Classic.

"Classic? W-what are you doing here?" he asked, looking up at him. He now truly noticed the height difference between them, Classic being a hole head taller than him.

"Well, I was going to talk to you, but didn't see ya at your desk. Shouldn't you be doin' paperwork?" he asked, his eye lights searching.

"I already finished it all," Ink said, choosing to look at the floor instead of those judging eye lights.

"What about appointments?" he asked, tilting his head a bit.

"I don't have any," he answered, before taking a breath. "You said you came to talk. Talk about what?"

Classic was silent for a second before his eye lights lost a bit of their coldness, "The meeting a few days ago."

"Oh," he said. Something professional. "I'll be out in a second."

"No no no. I'm not talking about what was actually said at the meeting. I want to talk about what was done," Classic said, stopping him from retreating into his room.

"What do you mean?" Ink asked, knowing that at least one of his eye lights was a question mark right now.

"Let's talk this out in your office instead of at your bedroom door," Classic said, smirking a bit before turning into the office and going to one of the chairs facing Ink's desk.

Ink came out of his room, forgetting to grab his suit jacket and wearing just his paint stained undershirt. He realized a little too late when Classic snorted.

"You're certainly not like the old Ink. He wouldn't have been caught dead wearing that," he said, slouching into the chair.

Ink looked away in embarrassment. At least someone was actually talking to him, so he guessed he should be more glad for Classic.

"So, what did you need to talk about?" he asked, trying to get away from the embarrassment.

Classic's eyes, which were full of mirth and a bit of tiredness, were now cold and judging despite the lazy smile still on his skull, "Right to the point I see."

Ink cleared his throat but nodded.

"Well, to put it simply, I've been watching you. Seeing just what Toby fixed or what he didn't," he said, his eyes as sharp as his smile, which was still lazy. "Basically, call it an ultimate judgement of sorts from the first judge."

Ink felt himself getting nervous. Had he already failed to be better? Had he missed a mark he never saw? He searched Classic's eyes for any give away as to what the conclusion was. All he saw was a calculated, observing look. A look of a judge about to give a sentence.

"After the meeting, after I really got to observe your tendencies, I've figured out the answer to my question," he said, sitting up enough to cross one leg over the other.

Ink squirmed slightly under the look. This was it. Only alive a few months and he was about to be recalled just as quickly as he was created.

"You are in no way the same as the old Ink," he said, before relaxing again. "Sorry for the dramatics. I've been having to keep track of so many genocide timelines, I couldn't help it. Not to mention spending time with Fatal. He is quite dramatic."

Ink was silent, having to process everything, "S-so, I'm not getting recalled?"

"Of course not," Classic said, "you're far too different from the old Ink. I mean, when I said he wouldn't have been caught dead wearing only his slacks and undershirt, I mean it. He wouldn't have started doodling on his papers and he certainly wouldn't let anyone else lead the discussions during the meetings."

"So, what exactly does all of this mean?" Ink asked, feeling relieved and overwhelmed a bit.

"What this means is that in giving you chance," Classic said, back to slouching in the chair. "That I'll help you out during meetings, make sure you get social interaction, maybe I'll sit with you during lunch."

His eye lights glowed with mirth aa Ink took all of this in. He... wasn't being ignored anymore? He had someone who was going to give him a chance?

"You're really going to do that?" he asked, a part of him still doubting that this was happening.

"The old Ink did a lot of things. One of those was making sure we couldn't support each other," Classic said, looking away with a sad look in his eye lights. "Perhaps things could change."

"Thank you. For giving me a chance," Ink said, smiling with tears streaming down his skull.

Classic gave him a sympathetic smile, "You're welcome. Let's hope that with me on your side, everyone else will be convinced soon."

"You and I both," Ink said, wiping at his eye sockets.

Classic smiled before standing up slowly while stretching, "Well, I have a client in about five minutes. Should probably get going."

"Of course. Umm thank you again for the chance," Ink said, tearing up again.

"Don't mention it," Classic said waving him off. He gave him one last lazy smile before teleporting in a flash of blue light.

    Ink stared at the place where Classic once was, a depression in the chair the only sign that anyone had been sitting there in the first place. He couldn't believe anything that had just happened.

    He had been hoping that he'd be given a chance but he really hadn't expected one. It was an impossible wish to him but he was proven wrong by Classic just now.

    Ink finished wiping at his sockets before getting up and getting out from behind his desk. He looked out the window that was behind his desk and smiled.

    He felt just a little better.

——

    Hello! I think Ink's story will get happier... I think. 😈

Also, I want to give a quick shout out to @SaucyAppleCider. She wrote a small one shot for this in her book Skeletons, skeletons everywhere. It's well written and I think you all would enjoy it.

Also also, really sorry for the amount of time it took to get the chapter up. School is hectic right now and so are my allergies.