The troubles of knowing yourself

Rough night

The right moment, blessedly, came sooner than Eight had been expecting.

It was early in the evening, a few days after Benny and Deco had first been brought to the mansion. Things were progressing about as well as one could hope, but it was slow going, mostly because the Salmonid didn't trust anyone in the mansion aside from Benny, and Benny was nervous around everyone aside from Marina and Eight.

Eight, for her part, was doing her best to act as a mediator. The staff had been briefed on the situation, and as far as she could tell, none of them seemed inclined to expose the fugitives. Pearl must've treated them well; not that that was much of a surprise to the Octoling.

That evening, things were beginning to wind down for the night. People were retiring, Eight had changed into pajamas, the house was quiet. It wasn't quite night yet, but Eight liked to try and go to bed a bit early, just to make sure she got enough sleep.

She had just finished saying goodnight to Marina and Pearl, and was heading back to her room with the plan of occupying herself on her phone until she felt ready to sleep, when...

"...Garra?"

Eight turned around, the sound of his voice so new still, despite being so very familiar. And his eyes, too, were familiar; their gradient very unique compared to other Octarians, and even with his eye rings and lips changing to a Salmonid color, there was absolutely no mistaking that face. And when she met his gaze, it was...comforting, like they could do no wrong by each other if they tried.

She blinked. "Benny?"

He shuffled under her gaze, his stubby legs and feet now bootless, his head bare of any covering. She wondered if he felt naked without anything to protect himself with.

He kept his gaze away from her for a moment. "I..." He took a deep breath inward and his eyes rose to meet hers. "Can I stay...with you? F-for the night?"

Eight's own eyes widened slightly. "Sure. Is something wrong?"

Benny shuffled his feet some more. "N...no, it's just..." His gaze fell again. "...I'm not quite...used to being here yet, and...being alone is making me a bit nervous."

The Octoling's look softened into one of understanding. "I was the same way for a little while. I don't mind at all."

He exhaled in quiet relief. "Thank you..."

She beckoned for him to follow her, and together they made her way to her room. It was a quiet walk, neither of them saying anything, but it was as if there was nothing at all awkward about it; no need to fill that silence.

She pushed her door open for him when they got there, letting him in first. She could tell, even with his face turned away from her, that he was amazed by what he was seeing. He had very expressive body language, or perhaps she was just good at reading him.

"Woah...and I thought my room was high-class!" He exclaimed, scampering in further to better gaze about.

Eight chuckled and closed the door behind them. "Makes you realize how little they gave us in the barracks, huh?"

Benny nodded, and approached one of her shelves. "I thought about that back down in the Salmonid village...that there's a difference between a gift and a provision." He turned back to look at her, giving the tiniest of smiles. "And if I think about it a bit harder...I think what I have right now was provided, because compared to mine this room is definitely a gift." He commented, not accusatory in the slightest. Not even jealous, either.