Ace of Spades [DSMP x Reader] (COMPLETED)

Chapter 9

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The next day, an unexpected message popped up on your communicator. It wasn't Quackity--you'd told him that you'd handled it (and you'd done it well), or Fundy, or Charlie.

You leaned over the balcony of the needle, taking a sip of your soda. The morning had dawned bright and sunny, like usual, but the message on your communicator was anything but.

It was Purpled.

You didn't think you'd ever talked to Purpled much. He'd joined Las Nevadas a little later than you, after the Red Banquet fiasco, and he'd always been oddly silent--never a word, and he kept mostly to himself. He did some of the work around Las Nevadas, but it was all behind the scenes things, and as the head of customer interaction, that wasn't really your area.

Curious to see what he had to say, you opened the message.

It was just three words: meet at needle.

Well, you were at the needle, and Purpled was nowhere to be found.

"Hey, Y/n."

Or not.

Setting your drink down on a table, you turned around to face Purpled. His expression was unreadable, completely emotionless, as he approached you, and rested his arms on the balcony as well.

"Hi Purpled," you said, "Did you need something from me?"

Purpled shrugged. He was still wearing his purple suit--Quackity had forced him to dress formally once he joined Las Nevadas, and in a sort of subtle rebellion, he'd bought at least twenty of the same suit he'd been wearing to the banquet. "Nothing, I just wanted to ask a question."

You nodded. "Ask away."

He stared off into the horizon, as if searching for the answers to his question in the sky. "Why did you join Las Nevadas?"

You blinked. You hadn't really been expecting that. "Well, after my cottage got blown up, I didn't really have anywhere to go. Quackity invited me, so I joined."

Purpled started, and seemed suddenly off-balance. He grabbed the railing to steady himself. "Careful," you said, glancing over at him.

He nodded uncomfortably. "You said your cottage got blown up?"

"It did."

"Do you know who did it?"

"Not really," you considered, "it happens a lot though. Might've been an accident with some of the extra L'manberg TNT, could've been anyone. I never really cared."

Purpled glanced at you, like that was all the answer he needed. "Alright, thanks."

The two of you were silent for a moment longer. You noticed that Purpled was gripping the railing so hard that his hands had turned white, letting the faint purple of his alien veins shine through.

"What's wrong?" you asked, tapping his hand.

Purpled looked down at his hands, and immediately released them, hiding them behind his back. "Sorry. I'm scared of heights."

"You're scared of heights?"

"Yea. Anyways, thanks. I've got to go now," he said, quickly turning back around, and entering the interior of the needle cafe through the sliding glass doors.

You sipped your soda slowly, as you watched him walk away. Purpled was scared of heights?

But he lived in a UFO, you reminded yourself. He couldn't possibly be scared of heights.

He'd been scared of something else then. But then the question remained, of what?

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