Blocky gently opened the door; the cube anxiously looked around for a second, fearing anyone lurking in the darkness, then started awkwardly reaching around for the inanimate Liys.
"I think we're clear."
A few barely audible murmurs from the one by his side.
"Yeah, yeah. I know; I know what that speaker box said about this place. So what?"
A few more for good measure.
"You actually believe *anything* he says? He's the guy that forced you to spend *years* in that gray box, right?"
One more, just for luck.
"Don't worry about it; you're safe and sound with me. Got that?"
Alright, this is the last one for *real*; a more reassuring one, this time.
Blocky finally found the switches and went through them one by one. Step by step, the room would come to life. The big overhead lights in the ceiling turned on first, followed by the smaller ones peppered throughout the floorspace. Then the fans that circulated the air around, a few bits and pieces of electronics here and there. Stuff that only Golf Ball and her lackey would understand; and she hasn't been here in a while. Or ever. Eventually, it's as if the place hadn't been left behind at all. So long as you don't mind all the dust that's been gathering up, anyway.
The hexahedron could remember the day he... *politely* asked everyone to get this studio built like it was yesterday; those agonizing days of constantly going up to the (former) host, asking them to *pretty* please help his brand-new shows get off the ground, help him find his new hobby project, lest he snap and pull some... *other* activities. He still couldn't quite say the word out loud; he still anxiously looked around every once in a while, fearing that the authorities had gotten to him. They eventually budged, and with a wave of Four's hand and a snap of their fingers, there was a brand new building in this otherwise empty corner of the world. Hooray.
Blocky wasn't implying that the place was *bad* or anything; the algebralians did a phenomenal job of setting everything up, and he wasn't saying that out of a lingering fear that they'd return to old habits and start screeching again if they were mentioned as being anything less than perfection. It was a quaint, comfortable, inviting place for him and his friends (of which there were a surprising amount; more than he'd ever dreamt of) to hang out, as well as recording said hangouts. It's just... he was never into that sort of thing. If one had any sort of idea about the guy, it's that he preferred to do most of his... *shenanigans* outdoors. He was active, outgoing, always itching to cause some mischief and trouble others with whatever means he could get his hands on. He still hadn't gotten used to sitting down, enjoying a nice cold beverage, just taking in these precious few moments of... existence. Calm. He wasn't quite comfortable with letting his guard down, resting his mind and body, not thinking about the next scheme. It just didn't sit right with him.
It *really* didn't sit right with him.
He still tried to get *something* off the ground, of course; Blocky's Funny Doings International was his whole thing, and without a Battle for Dream Island to distract him from that fact... he'd try not to admit it, but it was making him feel funny. He'd juggle a few concepts and themes, do a few collaborations with his new pal Woody, talk with others regarding how their ventures are going, see where they succeeded and failed. But almost never would he step into that studio. It just wasn't for him. Wasn't for anybody. The BFDI had been an entire decade of their lives, and then it just ended. As much as they tried to move on, you just can't do that.
But the place still served *some* purpose.
Blocky immediately sat himself down on his throne: a custom-built seat he could *really* sink into. Meanwhile, Woody would slowly but surely rest on his more modest chair, flinching a bit as he felt it was cold to the touch. The cube glanced at him. "See? Nothing to worry about." He'd smile. "So, we doing this or what?" The slab of balsa gave a weary, but reassuring, smile back at him; that's all the block needed. Without a word, he'd place the thing he'd been carrying this whole time on the table.
