“You feel the bulge in his pants” - implies that you are feeling some guy’s penis, may be sexy depending on context
“You feel the bugle in his pants” - implies that this guy has a military horn in his pants, invites confusing questions like why does he have that and how big are his pockets
When people argue that food from Chinese and Mexican restaurants in the US are not 'real' representations of that culture's cuisine ignore the historical reality that these dishes were developed by diasporic communities striving to recreate the flavors of home with available resources. Such criticism frames adaptation as a loss of authenticity, rather than recognizing it as a sincere and evolving expression of culture by people separated from their homeland.
So. For those of you who didn't pay attention to the details of the legal spat between Krafton and Unknown Worlds, allow me to give you some details of the finest legal comedy of a generation.
Krafton CEO looks at the hype surrounding Subnautica 2, goes over the contract between Krafton and Unknown Worlds, realizes he'll have to pay out bonuses and freaks out because shelling out those bonuses will make him look like a pushover.
CEO goes to his legal department, asks them to come up with a plan to weasel out of paying bonuses. Legal tells him the contract is iron-clad and to accept the loss.
CEO refuses to take the loss, asks ChatGPT for a plan. ChatGPT says the exact same thing the legal department did.
CEO demands a plan from ChatGPT, which dutifully spits out a plan at this point because clearly the CEO is a goddamn idiot.
CEO deletes the chat logs, failing to understand that 'delete' doesn't permanently remove things.
CEO follows plan, and is surprised when Unknown Worlds sues for breach of contract despite being told by both humans and an LLM that is exactly what would happen.
Court does not go well for Krafton's legal department. It comes out that after ignoring the sound legal advice of human beings, the CEO went to ChatGPT and asked for a plan. When asked for the logs by the court, Krafton's legal team states they were deleted, thus that it's simply herersay. Judge goes "Oh, that's okay, we'll have our IT folks recover them." Krafton's legal team is astounded that's even possible.
The chat logs are recovered. It comes out that even ChatGPT was in agreement with Krafton's legal department, and only spat out a plan after being asked a second time.
The judge, now thoroughly done with the stupidity of Krafton's CEO at this point, rules in favor of Unknown Worlds. Her ruling doesn't simply undo the scheme, but effectively leaves all control over Subnautica 2's development in the hands of Unknown Worlds, including the early access release date, reducing Krafton to just publishing out of contractual obligation. Krafton must also return all social media platforms for Unknown Worlds and Subnautica 2 to Unknown Worlds' control. Financial damages will be determined at a later date.
Krafton proceeds to violate the court order in less than 72 hours by trying to set an early access release date before returning Unknown Worlds' social media platforms.
Summary: In trying not to look like a pushover, Krafton's CEO now looks like a complete idiot who's going to have to fork over bonuses, plus court-mandated damages, plus whatever comes out of violating the court's orders. Krafton's legal department may as well come to court dressed as clowns after this. I suspect Unknown Worlds might buy the rights to Subnautica back after all this and either relegate Krafton to just publishing or find a different publisher for future games altogether.
dating simulator where it starts normal but it slowly becomes clear that all of the romanceable characters are attempting to cover up an extremely specific murder they committed a year ago before you arrived
A/N Did I say 2 chapters? Clearly I meant 2 chapters and an epilogue
(Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Epilogue)
---------------------------------------------
“YOU’RE RIGHT! THAT ISN’T FAIR!” Caine chorused.
Caine snapped his fingers.
Jax stiffened.
Jax fell silent. The smile dripped off his face. He looked at his hands. He looked at Caine.
“What did you do?” Jax asked.
“I MADE IT SO YOU CAN’T LIE!”
Silence settled like a stiff blanket, and then finally Jax whispered “…What?”
…
In the seconds that followed, Zooble’s glare burned sharper into Jax. They were suspicious, or doubtful, or simply unwilling to be strung along for another prank. And they seemed to take Jax’s stiff silence as yet another trap they would not fall for.
But in those seconds, Jax’s posture did not rebound, nor his spirit, nor his buoyancy. The hunch and trepidation in his taut shoulders acted as a tell so very un-Jax-like. The meaning sunk in slowly for Zooble, whose eyes went wider, and then wider still.
“Oh he actually did it, didn’t he?”
“Shut up,” Jax bit back. His eyes flitted like gnats between his hands and Zooble. “Caine can’t do tha--” Jax winced, and it was strange, as if the words bit him. “Caine… maybe can do that. But I don’t want him to. I don’t want this.” Jax looked up. His trepidation flashed to anger. He leaned his weight into his demand. “Caine! I want you to turn this off!”
“QUESTION TO JAX!!! JAX, WHAT IS A PAST JOB ZOOBLE HAS HELD?”
“Bartender. Or tattoo artist, take your pick.” Jax went instantly stiff. His eyes widened, hunted, prey-like. He brushed his fingers feather-light against his lips, and a fresh sort of calamity took over his face. “Hey Caine, I don’t like that you can make me say things! That’s not cool, Caine!”
Caine gave no indication he’d even heard Jax, but the eager leaning-in, the unseen grin, and the joyously squinted eyes of Zooble were all too happy to engage him.
“Guess you did remember,” Zooble said, chuckling. Jax’s eyes shot to them, murderous.
“Don’t enjoy this. Don’t you dare enjoy this,” Jax ground out through his teeth.
“ZOOBLE, IS JAX’S ANSWER CORRECT?”
“It’s spot on.”
“POINT FOR JAX! ZOOBLE SWITCHES OFF WITH KINGER. JAX REMAINS ON THE PODIUM!”
“Wait, no.” And Jax’s attention shifted fully off Zooble, alarm brewing under the surface as he addressed Caine. “I do not want to remain on the podium,” Jax stated simply, like a single coat of paint over a mold infestation of panic. “Caine, I want to throw the match. Caine, I want to get off the podium.”
Kinger had loped his way onto the stage. He stepped with care to not trip where he had tripped before. He used his hands for balance as he mounted the podium – for all the good his disconnected hands would do. And when he had successfully not tripped and had not fallen, Kinger looked up, and pleasant surprise flashed across his face.
“Jax! We’re opponents again.”
“Caine.”
“NOT YOUR TURN, JAX! IT’S KINGER’S TURN FOR THE QUESTION.”
“Ah! The choice of question.” Kinger tapped a finger against his non-existent chin. Jax watched him like Kinger was holding him at gunpoint. “This is a get-to-know-you trivia… I should choose something that would be nice for us to know about each other. How about… what are your hopes and dreams?”
“Kinger, no—”
“GREAT QUESTION KINGER! I LOVE THE WHIMSY! UP FIRST IS JAX. JAX, WHAT ARE KINGER’S HOPES AND DREAMS.”
“Christ, I dunno, trapeze artist, I want—”
“KINGER, IS JAX’S ANSWER CORRECT?”
Kinger chuckled. He shook his head, “Well that’s just not…” And then Kinger stopped himself, contemplation bright in his eyes. He held a hand to his chin again. “Well wait a moment… that may just be possible... Oh I can picture it now. Me! High up above center stage! My name up in lights. The whole crowd cheering for me, Kinger! Oh it would be a delightful show. Jax! You’ve inspired me! This is my dream in life.”
“What.”
“POINT TO JAX! JAX GETS TO REMAIN ON THE PODIUM NEXT ROUND.”
Jax’s podium counter ticked up to 8. Confetti blorped around him.
“No. No no no.” Jax swept his arms out effusively, wide X-slashes through the air. “No. No. Caine—”
“TO KINGER NOW!”
“That wasn’t his answer until I SAID it!! That’s cheating!” Jax grabbed the podium and threw his weight forward, stretched on tip-toe, as if reaching himself that fraction closer to Caine would make Caine listen. “That doesn’t count!”
“Oh, not a big fan of cheating suddenly?” Zooble asked, sing-song, from the team-box.
“You can shut up!” Jax yelled, one finger aggressively shoved in Zooble’s direction.
“TO KINGER NOW!!!!! KINGER, WHAT ARE JAX’S HOPES AND DREAMS?”
“Jax’s hopes and dreams… Well Jax is a very capable and ambitious young man… I can only guess his dream is to resume his rightful position as president of Paraguay!”
“JAX, IS THAT CORRECT?”
“No.”
“WHAT IS THE CORRECT ANSWER, JAX?”
That thin coat of paint over Jax’s agitation was peeling. A strained noise broke through his teeth, like a man mutinying against his need to breathe. And while breathing in the Circus was optional, Caine’s control was not.
“Hopesanddreams…” Jax said like he was fighting to eat the words. “I mean… who really HAS hopes and dreams? That’s so childish. I…” Jax went silent a moment. His face loosened, and the escalating panic was made a prisoner just within his eyes, concentrated, quarantined. His mouth moved freely. “I was applying to a dental assistant program before I got pulled into the Circus… I was hoping maybe if I got accepted, then that would be something to… do. Haha—but it’s not like I’d call that a dream! Haha! Thought it might get Mom off my back. Thought maybe it would make me sound important. I wouldn’t have to think anymore when people asked, ‘What do you do?’ I was just filling a void. I saw it on a billboard.I don’t dream of dentistry. Or anything. I mean--!!! How the heck are you supposed to have ‘dreams’ when you don’t plan to live pas—ggrraaaaaaa…! Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhh!”
Jax sucked in breath like a drowning man. He gripped the podium side with enough force for his arms to quiver. Confetti shivered off him like leaves shed in a storm. He screamed quietly, monotone, through several more exhales, each punctuated by an inhale. His hateful eyes found Caine, and the expression lasted only a moment before the hate pierced like an egg yolk and dripped into fear.
“Caine, I forfeit the game! Caine, I want you to get this thing off me. I’ll beha—I’ll do whatever thing you want me to do so you let me go!”
“NO FORFEITING! AND NO POINTS TO KINGER! KINGER WILL EXIT THE STAGE!”
“Oh... well… I’m glad you had me on your gameshow,” Kinger responded.
“I want to get off the podium!!!!”
“OH THAT’S EASY. YOU GET OFF THE PODIUM WHEN YOU GET A QUESTION WRONG.” Caine tapped a finger to his denture chin. “…MAYBE TRY BEING WORSE AT TRIVIA.”
And all too quickly Kinger was off the podium again. He loped off just as he’d loped on, carefree. It was almost fascinating to watch all situational context slide so happily off him. Kinger was playing trivia. Kinger harbored no context more for the adventure than simple trivia.
Pomni could not spare the mental real estate to really think about it—she had only enough space in her mind to feel a vague pang of jealousy for Kinger’s happiness.
And then Pomni thought of it no more, because Kinger’s dismissal from the podium came with an unspoken summons back up, and it demanded her attention in full.
Did it have to be so soon? Did it have to be him, again, the same unbeaten podium-defender as last time?
Pomni stood, because she had no more say in this game than Jax did.
Before Pomni could move, Zooble put a hand to her shoulder. “This is great, actually. Now you can kill him for real,” Zooble said. Pomni gave a chuckle that she did not feel.
Kinger held happily to his high spirits as he shuffled positions with Pomni. They slid past each other. The fur of Kinger’s robes tickled her face. Pomni tried to give him a smile, and he gave it back with his eyes. “Go get’im, Tiger!” Kinger said with a thumbs-up. Pomni wasn’t really sure what she was meant to be ‘getting.’
And when she set herself to the podium, and set her hands to the wooden edge, and looked at her opponent, Jax would look everywhere else but her again. He smoothed his hands over his ears once, twice, until he could scrub the agitation out of his posture.
“QUESTION TO JAX!”
There was some calculation churning behind the eyes that would not look at her. “’What outfit are you wearing?’”
“A STYLE QUESTION! TO POMNI NOW! POMNI, WHAT OUTFIT IS JAX WEARING?”
Pomni did not answer immediately—not for lack of an answer, but because the question surprised her. It was a nothing question. It was perhaps an intentionally nothing question, which could not be turned against Jax and used as serrated barbs to rip words from his mouth.
“Um, overalls.”
“JAX! IS THAT CORRECT?”
“Yes,” Jax answered, flat.
“POINT TO POMNI!!!!” Pomni’s podium ticked up to 6. Confetti dropped on her head. She picked a flake of red tissue paper from her cap and held it between her fingers, watching the way the stage lights slipped through it.“NOW JAX, WHAT OUTFIT IS POMNI WEARING?”
“She’s wearing a jester costume I mean a jester costume I mean a jester costume I mean a jester costume I mean a jester cos—aaaaaaaaaaaaaahhh!!” Jax grabbed his ears. “I’m not allowed to lie about THAT?!”
“YOU’RE NOT ALLOWED TO LIE ABOUT ANYTHING.”
“I thought I wasn’t allowed to lie about me! I’m not allowed to lie about anything?!”
“RIGHT. YOU’RE NOT ALLOWED TO LIE ABOUT ANYTHING. POMNI, IS JAX’S ANSWER CORRECT?”
“Pomni!!!” And finally, Jax was looking at her. Pomni let the confetti drop from her fingers. She met Jax’s desperate eyes, his pupils flickering between hers. “Pomni, you’re allowed to say my answer is wrong. I want you to say my answer is wrong.”
“Isn’t that cheating?” Pomni asked. “You know, the exact thing you’re being punished for right now?”
“Yes!” Jax answered with a crack to his voice. “But I guess I’m willing to get you in trouble if it benefits me! Aaaaaaaaahhhh….!” Jax smacked his hands to his face. “I don’t WANT to get you in trouble! You don’t deserve to be dragged down with me! But I’m asking you to do it because I really really hate this!”
“POMNI, IS JAX’S ANSWER CORRECT?”
“Well, I am wearing a jester costume.”
“POINT TO JAX!!! THIS IS AN INCREDIBLE STREAK FROM JAX! EXTRA CONFETTI!!” Jax’s podium ticked up to 9. A bucket of confetti teetered above him, and tipped, and buried him in a mountain of colorful bits of paper. “QUESTION TO POMNI!!”
“Pomni wait,” Jax shook himself free from Confetti Mountain. He kicked his feet out and gave a few futile sweeps of his arms and head before resigning himself to all the residual confetti decorating him. “Pomni, I need you to come up with a question I’ll get wrong. Please? I need to get off the stage. I know you’re mad at me, and this is a great chance to punish me, and I deserve it! But you’re nice so maybe you won’t.” And when Pomni did not immediately answer him, Jax hastily added, “I’m sorry about my question from before, you know! And I can’t lie so you know I mean that! I just need you to help me out. I’ll owe you one. Just choose a question I’ll get wrong.”
Internally, Pomni prodded at that wet wounded feeling still damp in her chest. Was that it…? She was ‘nice.’ She was the person who helped everyone out, maybe?
Jax had said everyone had an archetype. There was some behavior expected of her. Some person she was supposed to become. The helpful one…? Maybe that was her. She did a lot of that around the Circus. Roll with the punches, take it on the chin, seek the moral high-ground to still help people who’d wronged her—especially if it was a friend.
The thought felt like someone was holding her lungs just a bit too tight. No. No, that wasn’t her. Pomni wasn’t a doormat. She helped when she wanted to. And while she couldn’t quite call her feelings toward Jax anger, she did not feel so inclined to help him right now.
What did she want with him, though? Because she didn’t actually want to punish Jax either. She’d wanted an apology from him. That much was true. And he’d just given one. ‘I’m sorry.’
Why didn’t it feel like enough?
“Actually, Pomni, just a thought here—” Zooble spoke, tinker arm raised like Zooble had a classroom question. Pomni looked to them, as did Jax, though his expression was unmistakably sour. “I don’t really think it’s your responsibility to save Jax from the consequences of his own actions. He wasn’t planning to apologize to you. He only did it because Caine’s magic is forcing him to admit it, and because he wants something from you now.” Zooble shifted their eyes to Jax. “A normal person would not be having a Category 12 Meltdown over not lying for one game. I think he can deal with it.”
“Zooble you are really not helping me,” Jax said.
“Oh, good, I’m not trying to.”
“Pomni, look at me.” Jax pivoted his attention to Pomni. He held his hands at shoulder level, palms out, as if to show he meant no harm. “I already admitted I was wrong, okay? I was super wrong. So maybe out of the goodness of your heart you could help me out?”
The goodness of her heart…
“Are you actually sorry?” Pomni asked.
“Yes!” Jax answered.
“And would you have ever said ‘I’m sorry’ if Caine wasn’t forcing you to admit it?” Zooble asked.
“I wo--- I wwww--- Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa. AAAAAaaaaaaaaaaaa----!!!!!!!!” He grabbed his face, stretching the skin down. “Come on Pomni this is torture!”
“I thought you liked torture?” Zooble asked. “Or is that only when you’re doing it to us?”
“I really really want you to stay out of this, Zooble!” He dropped his hands from his face.
“Would you have apologized to Pomni under your own free will?”
“No!”
“Then I think Pomni should ask whatever question she likes.” Zooble crossed their arms. “And for your sake? I hope she doesn’t go easy on you.”
Jax was breathing heavily through eternally-gritted teeth. The hatred bright in his eyes could have been for Zooble, but it lingered even when he stopped looking at them. He drilled the loathing into the sight of his own hands, and he then snapped his head up.
“Okay!! Okay!!!! I guess Zooble’s just totally correct then! Pomni, ask your question!”
So Pomni did.
“Caine, my question is ‘Who are your friends in the Circus?’”
“A FRIENDSHIP QUESTION! QUESTION TO JAX! JAX, WHO ARE POMNI’S FRIENDS IN THE CIRCUS?”
“Like... everyone, basically? Everyone just likes her, and they should, since she’s so--gaaa!”
“POMNI IS THAT CORRECT?”
“I would like to think everyone here is my friend.”
“AND I THINK THAT BOND OF FRIENDSHIP IS EVIDENCED BY HOW AMAZING YOU ALL ARE AT TRIVIA. JAX DEFENDS AN INCREDIBLE STREAK. POINT TO JAX! HE STAYS ON THE PODIUM NEXT ROUND!”
Jax’s podium marked up to 10. Confetti fell to the paper mound he’d kicked around and still came to his knees. “Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa,” Jax said.
“TO POMNI NOW! POMNI, WHO ARE JAX’S FRIENDS IN THE CIRCUS?”
“You said ‘everyone’ was my friend, just now. Does that include you as my friend? Am I your Circus friend?” Pomni answered.
The cartoon physics would not allow for it, but Pomni could almost see the way Jax’s face slipped paler.
“JAX, IS POMNI CORRECT?”
With strained effort, Jax did not speak. He grabbed his ears and pulled them, released them and dug his fingers into his cheeks. He let out a long stuttering exhale, breathed in, and answered, “She should NOT BE!”
Jax shifted his hands to clutch the side of his podium. His balance did not seem stable. His breathing was syncopated, erratic. “I still have to talk, huh? That didn’t count as answering? This is still forcing me to talk right now?!” His eyes shot to Caine pleading for answer, and finding none, they shot back to Pomni.
Jax let out a laugh, terrible and uncomfortable. “GOD, you’re like some idiot baby bird I touched and now you won’t fly away! I don’t get it! You shouldn’t put up with me! You shouldn’t put up with this. You’re my only friend because somehow you’re not getting that you should get lost. So get LOST.”
Jax gave a long, jagged inhale, like a man pulled up from drowning.
“I’m sor—" Jax choked.
“I’M NOT SURE I’M FOLLOWING ALL THAT, JAX! IS POMNI CORRECT? IS SHE YOUR ONLY FRIEND IN THE CIRCUS?”
“YES.”
“OH WOW! HOORAY! I LOVE A ROUND OF ALL CORRECT ANSWERS!!! POINTS TO POMNI!”
Pomni’s podium ticked to 7. Confetti poured on her. She stared at Jax, feeling almost beside her body. And it was weird, and it was weird and it was weird. What a weird way to answer yes. What a weird way to say ‘I’m sorry.’ To call her an idiot. To yell at her. Was that what friends did? Was that what Pomni’s friends did to her?
Jax had a point, maybe, Pomni realized with a flash like fire through her chest—why did she want to put up with this?
Jax’s next exhale turned into a single extended pained noise. He spoke like there was water in his lungs. “Caine, I don’t want to do this anymore! Turn it down...! Why is it making me say everything? I shouldn’t have to say everything. I want to just answer things normally. I’ll behave. I’ll behave.”
“JAX! IT’S YOUR TURN FOR THE QUESTION.”
Jax concentrated his breathing into slower, longer rhythms. Inhale. Hold. Exhale… He buried his face in his hands and breathed for longer. He curled in a little, until the tremor left his arms. He released his face and stared at his hands.
“Okay… Okay, okay. Alright then. I can finally throw this now, right…? I’ll give you an easy point too Pomni, no extra charge.” There was no smile for Jax to bring back to his face. Exhaustion ran in deep lines beneath his eyes. “Caine, my question is ‘What is an irrational fear you have?’”
“A JUICY QUESTION!! ‘FEARS’ IS A THRILLING TOPIC FOR TRIVIA! TO POMNI FIRST! WHAT IS AN IRRATIONAL FEAR JAX HAS?”
“Trypophobia…” Pomni answered. “A fear of little holes.”
“JAX, IS THAT CORRECT?”
“Yes.”
“POINT TO POMNI!” Pomni’s podium ticked up to 8. “NOW JAX, WHAT IS AN IRRATIONAL FEAR POMNI HAS?”
And Jax stared at Caine with a long-suffering exhaustion. “I sincerely do not know. I have never asked. I have no information here. And that is completely the truth. So all I can do is guess and genuinely hope I am wrong. I am going to go with a fear of bugs.”
“POMNI, IS THAT CORRECT?”
“I guess some bugs are a little icky, but no. I’m not afraid of bugs.”
“NO POINTS TO JAX!”
Caine’s incorrect buzzer sounded, and Jax let out the longest sigh he could on a single lungful of air. He slumped forward. “What a beautiful noise. Let’s run away together, incorrect-buzzer.”
“WOW WOW WOW WOW!!!! AND JAX COMES TO THE END OF AN UNPRECEDENTED 10-ROUND-STREAK. I’VE NEVER SEEN SUCH ABSOLUTE MASTERY OF GET-TO-KNOW-YOU-TRIVIA!! EVERYONE GIVE JAX A ROUND OF APPLAUSE!”
No one did.
Jax found the energy to pick himself up from the podium. He swung his head to Pomni, and all the mirth had bled out of his expression. “Sorry, Pomni,” he repeated, and then he looked at her no more as he dragged his feet off the stage, hardly registering when his shoulder bumped Gangle.
She watched him for too long after he slumped into his spot in his team-box and buried his head in his hands. Ragatha stiffly and awkwardly fought the urge to say something to him. Pomni almost startled when Gangle waved one ribbon hand from the actual podium to catch Pomni’s attention.
“Hey uh, Pomni?” Gangle said. “I’m um—I’m glad you said we’re all your friends. I think you’re my friend too.”
Pomni quirked a smile. “Well if we both think that, I guess that means we’re friends.”
“QUESTION TO POMNI!!!”
Gangle was her friend. Gangle was her friend. And the sight of Gangle across the podium—the idea of exchanging questions, exchanging answers—did not fill Pomni with even one drop of anxiety. She bore no fear that Gangle might twist a question against her. She harbored no apprehension that Gangle might snap at her and lash out over a game that was just meant to learn about each other.
And it was meant to learn about each other mutually… Jax was no exception here. Every trivia question Jax fielded was also being answered by his opponent. There were no uniquely pointed questions targeting Jax. All his begging was to escape questions that every other Circus mate was willing to answer normally.
Pomni finally picked apart the knotted mess of what she felt toward Jax right now—and it was that Jax was not allowed to ruin this for her.
Until he could actually behave like her friend, until he could feel as easy and safe to speak to as Gangle, he was not worth her time, nor her attention, nor her grief. He could handle this single adventure on his own.
Pomni nodded. “Caine, for my question I’m going to ask, ‘What’s a hobby you enjoy?’”
Caine’s locked-in noise buzzed. “AN EXCELLENT QUESTION. GANGLE’S UP FIRST. GANGLE, WHAT’S A HOBBY POMNI ENJOYS?”
“Ah… Ah shoot…” Gangle muttered, ribbon scratching at the cheek of her mask. “I know you told us one. My memory isn’t great today.”
“Your memory’s at least gotta be better than a peabrain’s, right?” Pomni asked, lightly, testing the waters.
Gangle nodded, and she let out a laugh. “I think you’re right.”
The smile Gangle gave back was genuine. They had an inside joke, and Pomni was part of it.
“GANGLE, ANSWER!”
“Ah…. Was it true crime?”
“POMNI, IS THAT CORRECT?”
“I mean you’re kinda close,” Pomni said. “I like visiting haunted—well, ‘haunted’—locations and filming what I find.”
“Oh… Oh! I remember that now. You did tell us that…”
“NO POINTS TO GANGLE! QUESTION TO POMNI! WHAT IS A HOBBY GANGLE ENJOYS?”
“She likes drawing.”
“GANGLE, IS THAT CORRECT?”
“Yes.”
“POINTS TO POMNI! POMNI REMAINS AND GANGLE MUST EXIT THE PODIUM!”
“You know… I like poker, also,” Pomni tacked into her answer before the chance was gone. “In case you wanted to know. My college roommate got me into it. I do that more than I do, you know, haunted spelunking. Maybe we could—”
“GANGLE MUST EXIT THE PODIUM!”
“Zooble’s great at poker, did you know that?” Gangle said. “I’m… not, but we’ve needed more people to play. It would be a lot of fun if we—"
“GANGLE GET OFF THE STAGE!”
Caine snapped his fingers, and Gangle and Ragatha instantly teleported locations. Ragatha’s legs dropped out beneath her, snapped from sitting to standing with no warning, and it took a mad scramble of her hands latching to the podium to save her fall.
“Agh, I was trying to avoid that…!” Ragatha said, and she hoisted herself up the podium and stood steady on her feet.
“QUESTION TO RAGATHA!”
“Hey uh, Ragatha?” Pomni started. She gave Ragatha a moment to steady her balance and meet Pomni’s eyes. “If you’d like to ask a …hard …question, I think I’d appreciate the chance to get off the podium for a bit.”
Pomni’s eyes shifted toward Jax, and she did it as an invite for Ragatha to follow her gaze. Ragatha was smart. Pomni could trust her to understand, surely. And after a silent moment, Ragatha seemed to get it.
“Oh,” Ragatha said. The rotation was fixed. Jax followed Ragatha. “Oh…” And if Ragatha left the podium before Pomni, the match-up would come right back to Pomni and Jax. “Yeah, yeah of course!” Ragatha was building momentum, nodding effusively. “Everyone wants a little break sometimes! I had a long break, really. Are you—are you sure that’s not too mean, though? I mean… If I ask you a question that’s intentionally too hard for you to answer, isn’t that mean?”
“It’s not mean, Ragatha. It’s fine. I’m asking you to do it, after all. I’m just tired.”
And from the opposite team-box, Jax clicked his tongue. He slumped lower in his seat. “Okay I see how it is. When Pomni asks to be knocked off the podium everyone’s down to help, but when I do it—”
“Oh would you shut up?” Zooble asked.
“Can’t,” Jax answered, flat. “I’m under a magic spell.”
Ragatha spared him only one glance before focusing back on Pomni. “Okay. Sure thing, Pomni. Maybe it’s fair if I ask a question that’s hard for both of us? And we can learn about each other.”
“I think I’d like that.”
“AND I THINK I’D LIKE RAGATHA TO HURRY UP AND CHOOSE HER QUESTION! WE DON’T HAVE ALL DAY.”
“We literally do,” Zooble muttered.
“Caine, I have my question,” Ragatha said. “My question is, ‘What’s your nicest childhood memory?’”
“A SWEET, HEART-WARMING QUESTION. THE AUDIENCE IS EATING IT UP.” Caine gestured enthusiastically to the sea of mannequins planted in the pews, none of which were speaking, or showing any sign of life—artificial or otherwise. “TO POMNI! WHAT IS RAGATHA’S NICEST CHILDHOOD MEMORY?!”
“I guess I really don’t know.”
“RAGATHA, IS THAT CORRECT?”
“Well no—unless I also didn’t know—then I guess that would be a correct answer? I’m not sure how that works. But uh--!! When I was a kid, I always had to get up really early to take care of the animals. 3 or 4 am, depending. So I never could go to bed late. But one summer night I snuck out without my mom noticing. I don’t know how late exactly. Past midnight, some amount. I went to our stable—I had three horses, did you know?—I went there and just… brushed them and rode them, and it was so peaceful, and it felt like I had the world to myself.” Ragatha curled a lock of yarn hair around her finger. “I noticed—I thought I saw a light in the sky. Thought I spent too long with my horses, and dawn was coming and Mom would yell at me for missing chores. But when I stopped and looked at the sky—it was actually a meteor shower. I didn’t know there was going to be a meteor shower that night. But it felt kind of like… the universe put on a show, just for me.”
“That’s really sweet, Ragatha.”
Ragatha pulled her hair, a little flustered. Caine’s incorrect buzzer screamed.
“NO POINTS TO POMNI! POMNI WILL EXIT AT THE END OF THIS ROUND. TO RAGATHA NOW! RAGATHA, WHAT IS POMNI’S NICEST CHILDHOOD MEMORY?”
“I also have no idea.”
“POMNI, IS THAT CORRECT?”
“My nicest childhood memory…” Pomni searched her mind for where best to start. “My dad had this sailboat. He sold it when I was like, 10 or so… Think he did that as a favor to Mom. But before that he’d take me out into the ocean on it. And when I was… I think 6? We got a rocky start deploying. We hit a wave or something, and I tumbled over the side. Dad said my life vest popped out of the ocean without me. I was totally under water… I don’t know how long in total. Probably just a few seconds. Dad said it felt longer. But he finally dragged me up and—he said he was afraid I’d be dead or… traumatized or something. But I held my breath at the right time I guess. I loved the whole thing. I felt like I saw the whole ocean while I was under. I remember the exact moment my dad pulled me up really well. I was staring over my dad’s shoulder at the toppled sailboat. Dad had some seaweed clinging to his back that was tickling my nose, and he was holding me so tight and saying things to me and almost crying. I felt so safe in the ocean with my dad. Maybe that’s a strange memory to choose—considering I, you know, maybe almost drowned—but I’ve loved the water ever since.”
“I don’t think that’s strange, Pomni. I think it sounds like your dad…” Ragatha hesitated, “…was… really amazing.”
“He was.”
Caine’s buzzer sounded. “NO POINTS THIS ROUND!!! THIS MAY FEEL DISAPPOINTING, FOLKS, BUT REMEMBER, NOT EVERY QUESTION CAN BE A WINNER. I’M SURE OUR CONTESTANTS WILL NURSE THEIR PRIDE, RECOVER FROM THEIR BRUISED EGOS, AND COME BACK STRONGER THE NEXT ROUND! BOTH CONTESTANTS MUST EXIT THE PODIUM!”
“Hey Pomni?”
Pomni glanced over her shoulder, half-dismounted from the podium.
Ragatha continued. “I’m… really not much of a swimmer. Maybe, sometime, you can teach me some tricks?”
“If you teach me to ride a horse.”
“I’d love to.”
“GETOFFTHESTAGE!”
Caine clapped his hands, and in an impressive teleportation shuffle, Ragatha and Pomni were transported back to their boxes, and Jax and Zooble snapped into the incorrect podiums. The displacement exploded the podium piles of confetti like the feathers of two chickens struck at highway speed.
“Oops,” Caine said, and with another flick of his hand, Jax and Zooble snapped into the correct spots in a new flurry of confetti.
“Would you stop that? I’m capable of walking, Caine.” Zooble brushed themselves free of confetti. Jax made no acknowledgement of the snapping situation, nor the confetti, not that Pomni expected him to, as his expression bled a different frustration with total transparency.
“We’re gonna do this, huh? We’re just gonna keep putting me up here. Is it funny? Or does no one care I’m being tormented.”
“That’s not an ‘or’ question. Yes, it’s funny. And yes, no one cares,” Zooble answered.
“I hate you right now.”
“Do you hate me all the time?”
Jax grabbed his own ears. “ggggGGGGGRGRGHHGHGHGHG, I’M gonna dismember my own cartoon BODY to stop from answering and that’s gonna be your fault!”
“Is that really my fault, though?”
“It’s not your fault because I brought this on myself. AAAAAA.”
“QUESTION TO ZOOBLE!”
“Right, so many ideas to pick from...” Zooble tapped their chin. “But I think I’m going with ‘What’s your most embarrassing childhood memory?’”
“Zooble no.”
Caine’s buzzer sounded. “GREAT QUESTION.”
“Zooble you’re asking this because you know I know your answer,” Jax said, flat, and bleeding into desperation. “You’re doing this to keep me on the podium. You’re not playing fair, Zooble.”
“Ahhhh are you sure?” Zooble bounced their head, feigning uncertainty. “I mean, you constantly forget the things you know about us. Maybe you forgot this one, Jax? You haven’t used it as ammo against me in a while.”
“Zooble.”
“QUESTION TO JAX FIRST! JAX, WHAT IS ZOOBLE’S MOST EMBARASSING CHILDHOOD MEMORY?”
“Got sick on the band bus and threw up into some guy’s tuba,” Jax answered nigh-robotically, like the words were pulled out of him by the air.
“ZOOBLE, IS THAT CORRECT?”
“Grade 7 band trip. I switched to field hockey after that.”
“AMAZING, BUT UNSURPRISING COMING FROM JAX! ANOTHER POINT TO JAX!”
11 displayed on Jax’s podium. He did not flinch, nor even blink, when the confetti coated him anew.
“OVER TO ZOOBLE. ZOOBLE, WHAT IS JAX’S MOST EMBARASSING CHILDHOOD MEMORY?”
“Zooble please.”
“Ehhhh, I’m gonna go with pissed his pants on the playground.”
“JAX IS THAT CORRECT?”
“N-no,” Jax half-choked. He dug his fingernails into the podium for several long dragging seconds. The energy bled out of his grip as if he were slipping down the side of a mountain. And with no one coming to save him, his hold snapped off clean, and Caine’s force-control became him. “In 5th grade I accidentally called the teacher ‘Mom’ twice in the same day and everyone heard about it so from then on instead of ‘Ask the teacher’ it was ‘Ask your mom,’ and I mean LITERALLY every day. You think people might forget but no one forgets apparently—and it was anything to do with the teacher, anything at all! ‘Your mom gave us homework.’ ‘Your mom sucks at teaching.’ ‘Your mom failed you? That’s cold.’ literally EVERY DAY.The teacher hated me because of it. And somehow I got in trouble for it! They had to have parent-teacher conference about it—which ‘Hey your two moms are having a meeting’ and—IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII WANT TO BITE MY OWN TONGUE OFF,” Jax slammed his fists down on the podium, physically trembling, “AND LIGHT EVERYTHING HERE ON FIRE.”
“HMM… LOVE THE ENTHUSIASM, JAX! NO POINTS FOR ZOOBLE!”
“Ohhhhhh too bad, thought I had that one in the bag,” Zooble answered sarcastically.
“Are you happy? Are you happy?” Jax challenged between jagged pulls of breath, quivering arms holding most of his slumped weight on the podium.
“Considering how much mileage you’ve gotten mocking me for the tuba thing,” Zooble tapped their chin, and nodded, “yes, yes I’m very happy with this information.”
“Is it enough? I got your point. I got it!! This is your revenge on me—you got your revenge! It’s fair now, right? Someone has to think it’s fair now. Someone has to get me down.”
“ZOOBLE EXITS THE PODIUM, AND KINGER IS UP NEXT.”
“Oooooh, well sorry, it won’t be me,” Zooble answered, pulling back from the podium. They walked without glancing back to Jax, position swapping with Kinger who was happily enroute to the podium. “Maybe Kinger will take pity on you if you ask him.”
Jax’s seethingly hateful gaze faltered a few times and failed, like a lightbulb burning out. And fear was back in his face when he shifted his attention to Caine.
“When does it end, Caine?!”
Caine flipped upside-down to look at Jax. “Hmm? When does what end?”
“The GAME. When does this game end?!”
“OH! RIGHT! THE GET-TO-KNOW-YOU TRIVIA. IT ENDS AFTER—” Caine flipped right-side up, checked his watch, “—57 HOURS.”
“WHAT?!”
“OR! WHEN A TEAM FINISHES A ROUND WITH 13 TOTAL POINTS! WHICHEVER COMES FIRST!”
“Why 13?” Ragatha asked.
“SEEMED LUCKY!”
Jax’s jagged breathing heaved like there was glass in his lungs. He craned his neck to see his own podium face and let out a chalky wheeze.
“I’m at 11, Caine! I’m at 11.”
“YES. YOU ARE.”
And Jax’s attention snapped to the team opposite him, his most hateful glare reserved for Zooble. “So you can’t keep me at the podium forever! I’m close to winning! If I wipe two more of you out then this ends. I’m free!” Jax was laughing now, in a way that was hard to differentiate from crying. “I don’t need anyone’s help!! I’ll wipe the next two of you out and then I’m gonna---then I’m gonnn----then I’m gonna have so many things I can say…!”
Kinger positioned himself tall at the podium. “Jax really has his game face on today, doesn’t he? I’ll do my best.”
“JAX, QUESTION TO Y—”
“Which door in the room hallway is your room? Side and number.”
Caine’s buzzer sounded.
“HMM… OKAY THEN! QUESTION TO KINGER! KINGER, WHICH DOOR IN THE ROOM HALLWAY IS JAX’S ROOM?”
“Oh um… Oh the room hallway…” Kinger fell silent, contemplative. “I do remember we have a room hallway. I have a room too there, don’t I? Oh but this is about Jax! Jax’s room…”
“He doesn’t know, Caine.”
“KINGER!! I REPEAT! WHICH DOOR IN THE ROOM HALLWAY IS JAX’S ROOM?”
“I um…” Kinger scratched at his head. His eyes wandered the ceiling. “Oh how many doors were there…”
“KINGER, ANSWER,” Jax yelled, and Kinger startled a fraction.
“I um--! I’m sorry, Jax. I don’t remember…”
“IS THAT COR—”
“Obviously not. Fifth room on the right.”
Caine’s incorrect buzzer noise sounded. Kinger lost a bit of his buoyancy.
“KINGER WILL EXIT THE PODIUM AT THE END OF THE ROUND. TO JAX! JAX, WHICH DOOR IN THE ROOM HALLWAY IS KINGER’S ROOM?”
“Ninth of the right. Not that he uses it.”
“KINGER, IS THAT CORRECT?”
“Where is…” Kinger trailed off. “Oh, I do have a room, don’t I? Sorry, I’m not great at remembering. I haven’t been in it ever since—”
“It’s the ninth on the right, KINGER. I know this, and I can’t lie! Don’t you DARE say I’m wrong!”
Kinger flinched again.
“Sorry, my memory is just—”
“SAY I’M RIGHT, KINGER.”
“Jax—” Zooble snapped.
“Jax is right,” Kinger answered. “He… almost certainly must be. I’m the one not remembering. Sorry, I didn’t mean to ruin the game.”
Jax cracked a wide smile. His frantic breathing made the grin unsettling, gave his whole agitated body the affectation of an animal in the late stages of rabies. He laughed. His podium ticked to 12. Confetti rained down onto his shoulders.
“12! That’s 12, Caine!!! I’m at 12! I’m one away, then the adventure ends and you get this thing off me.”
This time, when Pomni brushed past Kinger, he lacked his happy bounce. Pomni felt him pause just as she reached the podium. When she looked, Kinger had not taken his seat yet. His apologetic eyes were still scanning across Jax.
“Hey uh, Jax?” Kinger called across the stage. Jax’s joyous visage broke down the center as he glanced to Kinger, suspicion cutting deep through his eyes. “Sorry that I’m not great at trivia. I’m thinking it might be frustrating for you to keep playing against me. But, that’s because you are truly excellent at it. You’ve been besting me fair and square. I do hope you’re rightfully proud of yourself!”
And Jax barked a noise, incredulous, strained. His tongue clicked. “Proud of myself, ha! Yeah right. Not sure I even know what emotion you’re talking about. I haven’t been proud of myself since before Dad walked out—AAAAAAAA!” And when Jax slammed his fists down it was with a violent hostility. It came with weight, and force, and a shockwave of silence across the stage as Jax lunged in Kinger’s direction. “You STUPID CHESS PIECE. YOU SPACE CADET. YOU IDIOT. It’s not even your turn!” Jax pressed a hand to his temple. “You don’t even have the slightest idea what’s going on right now, do you?! I’m not ‘great’ at trivia—I’m being held HOSTAGE here, and you keep making it worse. Stop making it worse.” Kinger flinched again. Jax swept a hand out. “Your brain turned to mold 20 years ago and now you spend all your time making that everyone else’s problem! Learn to read the room! Don’t SAY anything until the game ends!”
“Do NOT yell at him!” Zooble snapped back at Jax, standing with enough force to almost rattle the team box.
“YOU STAY OUT OF THIS TOO,” Jax moved his assault to Zooble. “YOU’RE WORSE THAN KINGER. YOU’RE DOING THIS TO ME ON PURPOSE.”
“Don’t even act like this isn’t entirely deserved.”
“H-hey Caine, hey Caine,” Ragatha called out meekly, single wide non-button eye bouncing between Jax and Zooble with trepidation. “Maybe now might actually be a good time to give Jax his lying back? I think the point’s been made, and it’s really clear Jax can’t handle not lying for the whole game.”
“Ohhohoh, THANKS, Raggy. Real vote of confidence from you.” Jax jammed a finger in her direction. “Stay out of this too!”
“She’s trying to help you. She’s literally trying to help you,” Zooble answered. “You are such a d^@k to everyone trying to help you.”
“Well I didn’t ASK.”
“No. You didn’t ask, Jax,” and it was Pomni now who spoke. And for the first time since the argument started, Jax’s eyes drifted over to her situated at her team’s podium. “That’s because it’s not your turn to ask the question. It’s mine.” She needed to make sure he was watching. She needed to make sure Jax was fully understanding what she was about to do. “Hey Caine—”
And he was understanding, because Jax stared at her, wide-eyed, all but frozen. “No.”
“Caine,” Pomni continued. “I have my question.”
“WHAT IS YOUR QUESTION, POMNI?”
“My question,” She fixed Jax with her pointed glare. He was at the center of her sniper rifle sight, and she needed him to know it. “My question is ’Why do you insist on being such a d^@k to everyone trying to help you?’”
So quiet, it hardly counted as a whisper, Jax responded, “No…”
Caine’s locked-in buzzer screamed.
“ODDLY SPECIFIC QUESTION!! I’LL ALLOW IT!” Caine trilled. He pointed his cane at Jax, who looked as if the motion had gouged him through the chest. “TO JAX! JAX, WHY DOES POMNI INSIST ON BEING SUCH A DICK TO EVERYONE TRYING TO HELP HER?”
Jax fidgeted, fixed to the spot, pinned like a butterfly, his eyes the only part of him free to dart around as they found Pomni over and over. His agitation bled into anger. “She... doesn't... How am I supposed to answer that?”
“POMNI, IS THAT CORRECT?”
“Yes, that’s correct.”
“AMAZING! BUT UNSURPRISING, COMING FROM JAX. POINT TO JAX!!”
Confetti fluttered down in curtains, coating Jax, coating the podium, very nearly coating the bright red diode across the front now proudly blaring 13.
Jax leaned forward. He stared at the diode. He lifted his head up to Caine, and he let out a laugh so deeply uncomfortable.
“T-that’s 13. Caine, that’s 13!! Caine!! Caine, I did it! Caine, I got 13! End the game!”
“THE ROUND ISN’T OVER. THE GAME CAN’T END UNTIL THE ROUND IS OVER.” And his staff found Pomni now. “AND THAT MEANS IT’S POMNI’S TURN! POMNI, WHY DOES JAX INSIST ON BEING SUCH A DICK TO EVERYONE TRYING TO HELP HIM?”
And Jax’s wide prey stare could perhaps almost have swayed Pomni to pity—maybe in another adventure, or in another life—but the anger she felt on Kinger’s behalf burned white-hot through her veins. The anger she felt for herself. And Pomni refused to let calmer heads prevail when the moment so perfectly presented itself to go for the throat.
“Jax acts like a d^@k to everyone trying to help him because he got hurt when someone in the Circus he cared about abstracted, and now he's afraid to act like he cares about ANYONE because he'll be hurt all over again if we abstract. And instead of TALKING about it, and he makes it OUR problem to deal with.”
It felt good. It felt good like biting Jax’s leg had felt good. It felt good like crushing a mosquito that had been tormenting you all evening felt good. It felt good with every deep adrenaline-soaked breath Pomni took, and every rapid beat of her unreal heart, and it felt good because Jax couldn’t lie to her about it this time.
She had him.
And Caine would force him to admit it.
“JAX! IS POMNI CORRECT?”
Through gritted teeth, through labored breath, with eyes that stared so deeply, so unblinkingly into Pomni, Jax answered.
“No… Not correct…”
Confusion washed like a wave through Pomni. Caine’s incorrect buzzer trilled over everything.
“AND WHAT IS THE CORRECT ANSWER?!”
Jax fought. He fought visibly. His every muscle strained taut to snapping, fingers digging into the side of his podium like he was clinging to the side of a capsized boat. His every breath was a drowned man’s wheeze, a protest against air, against lung, against the body he had no say in occupying. There was physical pain, undeniable, burning in his utterly spent eyes.
“No,” Jax wheezed.
“YOU HAVE TO ELABORATE, JAX.”
“I won’t.” Jax sucked a gasp in. He wrapped an arm around his midsection and dug his fingers into his side as if something had stabbed him there.
“YOU HAVE TO.”
"I don-- I d... CALL THE GAME OFF CAINE. I WON." Distress cracked Jax’s voice. His eyes were physically sick, darting around, person to person to person to person. “I WON, CAINE. I WON. I WON. END THE GAME, CAINE.”
"YOU DON'T WIN UNTIL THE ROUND IS OVER! JAX, WHAT IS THE REAL ANSWER TO POMNI'S QUESTION?"
The next noise Jax made was so primal in its pain that it brought a shiver of panic down Pomni’s spine. Her hardened rage was evaporating, her desire for revenge sublimating under the reminder that, unlike Jax, she derived no joy from suffering.
They couldn’t die in the Circus, right? But how badly could Caine harm them?
“Caine, actually, we can stop this!” Pomni cut in, and the panic vented itself into her voice. “I got the question wrong, so I’ll forfeit. You can let Jax go now!”
“NOT YOUR CALL, POMPOM.”
“Caine I’ll do anything,” and it sounded almost impossible for Jax to speak through whatever was tearing apart his chest. He’d doubled over completely. He clutched his midsection so tightly, Pomni was sure he’d have broken skin if he had any fingernails to the hands digging against bone. “Anything… if you call the game here.”
“NOT AN OPTION.” Caine hovered just above Jax, and there was absolute devastation in the limp-eared imploring look Jax craned up to give him as Caine added, “AS A REMINDER, THE QUESTION IS: JAX, WHY DO YOU INSIST ON BEING SUCH A DICK TO EVERYONE TRYING TO HELP YOU?”
And something snapped entirely in Jax. He rasped in a breath so violent it sounded as if it sliced his lungs on the inhale, and on that violent breath, his voice hitched itself, and in a scratched and painful exhale, the words poured out of him.
“I act like a d^@k because I know I’m up NEXT for abstraction. Okay?!” Jax declared, sharp eyes finding Caine, finding everyone. His arm unraveled. He pulled himself up. He had no choice in the matter. “I’m not making it out of here. And I do not WANT a single ONE of you feeling the SLIGHTEST BIT SORRY WHEN IT HAPPENS, GOT IT?” Jack held himself tall, audience to everyone. He slammed his hand to his chest. “I want you to FIND me abstracted in my room and say ‘THANK GOD. Thank god he's gone. Thank god. We were so sick of him.’ And I have every second between now and the moment that happens to make you hate me. So I’m making you hate me, and then I’m gonna make you all so happy on the day you finally get rid of me for good.”
As if an act of final punctuation, or final mercy, the rigid puppet strings tacking up Jax’s body finally cut loose. And all like a cut-loose puppet, he fell. Jax caught himself on his elbows against the podium. His next rasping inhale was nails through his lungs again, but this one was his own—a desperate recovery gasp at the moment his body became his again. The shaking rendered him hardly capable of standing. His hands curled against the top of the podium for any amount of grip to support himself. His cheek was pressed against wood as he rattled in his own body, and gasped, and gasped, and tried so desperately to find control of himself as the tears welled in his eyes.
“That was… T-that was a jo—”
“AND WITH THAT FOLKS! TEAM B WINS!!”
Confetti exploded around Jax, a sashaying serenading cacophony of color and paper and blasting trumpets that Caine set to sing, braying, crooning victory.
Jax’s podium diode flashed. A ring of bulbs circled the number and pulsed along with it. Balloons floated down, tapped to the ground and clumsily rolled themselves elsewhere. Mannequins clapped out a titter like rainfall. Caine found a noise maker appropriately sized for his mouth, and he blew it to the same tune as the trumpets.
A ‘WINNER’ sash appeared draped on Jax’s shoulder. Matching ones snapped onto Ragatha and Gangle.
No one spoke. No one made a noise. No one except Jax, whose ragged breathing drowned under the fresh maelstrom of sound.
“WHAT AN ABSOLUTELY EXCEPTIONAL GET-TO-KNOW-YOU-TRIVIA ADVENTURE! WE CAN ALL REST EASY NOW KNOWING POMNI FEELS WELCOME AMONG HER FRIENDS! AND WITH THAT!”
Caine snapped his fingers.
Everything vanished at once.
Everything except the winner sashes, and three stray flecks of confetti on Jax’s shoulders, one of which shook loose and drifted to the floor as Jax fumbled to remain standing without his podium support.
Caine was gone. And everything was so silent.
It was Jax who opted to break the silence, lasting only a few more broken wheezes before he croaked out, “Caine…”
Then again. “Caine.” Agitated, Jax grabbed his sash. He looked at it, gripped it in his fists, looked up to the ceiling again with his wild eyes. He rubbed the tears from the corners of them. “Where’s my prize, Caine?! I won. W-where’s my prize, come on.” His voice cracked.
Pomni watched him as he stepped about, as he whirled at the empty ceiling and yelled for Caine’s attention, who had not paid a moment of attention to Jax even when Caine was present. And in the same room, it made Jax so isolated from them all. Jax was an island. Jax was capsized in the ocean, maybe, where his life vest had popped off and drifted away, and no one wanted to pull him out.
And despite herself, Pomni had to grapple with the fact that she was capable of cruel questions too.
She took a step forward. She reached one hand out, and it did not truly bridge the gap between her and Jax.
“Jax, I’m um… I’m sorry. I didn’t think—”
Jax whirled on spot. His wild flitting eyes found her, and he responded with a voice so soaked in adrenaline he could not keep the wobble out of it. “For'what?” His eyes roved over her and over her and over her. He stifled his breath. “Wha're you sorry about? That? That was all a joke. Ahah. Ha! I got you, clearly!"
He trembled still, like a newborn giraffe, like he was born hours ago, standing on legs that could not be trusted yet to stand. His expression wasn’t holding up, so he looked away from Pomni. His voice dropped to a mutter, a declaration whose target was unclear. “Caine can’t control me. He can’t make me say things—I set that up to get one over on you! You should have seen your face, haha! ‘I’m really sorry’ Y-yeah." Jax jabbed a finger in Pomni’s face. “I got you good!”
He hadn’t wiped the pain from his eyes yet. He stared so deeply into her.
“Oh... O-oh, yeah,” Pomni answered. She broke eye contact. She looked anywhere that wasn’t Jax. “Yeah! You got me! That’s what I get for... trying that!”
“Hey uh, Jax...” It was not Pomni speaking this time, and she was grateful for the chance to shift her attention. Gangle had raised one ribbon arm, inserting herself in the conversation. “Sorry but um... I'd be sad if you abstracted.”
Some expression zapped through Jax’s face, electric almost in the way he stiffened, and the way his brow furrowed, and the way anger widened his eyes. “Well I don’t care, is the thing. What difference does that even make? You're sad all the time.” He slashed a hand through the air. “Also I’m not abstracting!”
There was a weird catch in his voice as he said it, like stepping on a missing stair, like he expected too late for the words to not work.
Zooble inserted themselves ahead of Gangle, a partial physical barrier between her and Jax. “I’m sorry for pushing you, Jax. That wasn’t cool of me. But also, you’re wrong. If you abstracted, I wouldn’t be happy. I’d be pretty mad in fact that you walked out of here and gave up.”
“What kind of apology is this if you're just grilling me, huh?” Jax fired back, one hand sweeping out across his body. “Also why would I care if you’re mad at me? It's funny when you're mad at me!”
He swallowed. His breathing was coming back under control. He was finding steadiness on his legs again. He used it to move firmly, to step himself forward and declare with the full strength of his voice, “I said all that because it was funny. You’re embarrassing yourselves acting like any of that was serious. So I’ll save you the time. I’m not about to abstract! I don’t care what you’d think if I did abstract! And I’m better at trivia than all of you! And that’s the only thing that matters in this circus because everything here is one big game. So play. better. next time.”
And on the punctuation of his words, Jax turned on heel. He crumpled the winner sash in his hand and yanked it off, dropped it on the floor, crushed it under foot. He made a point to not look back as he marched, to prove himself capable of moving under his own power, to grab no hand, to acknowledge no sentiment, to wade further and further away while he still had the power to.
Pomni knew what it looked like to lose something to the currents of the ocean, and she felt that somehow, here, at the audible slam of Jax’s room door. And Pomni felt only a little guilty that his missing presence made it a little easier to breathe.
Zooble let out a frustrated swear and turned to Kinger, asking him something, was he okay? Ragatha followed suit. Gangle. Pomni. And it was so much nicer for everyone to be concerned for Kinger instead, because Kinger would be nice back. His eyes were so kind when he assured them he was okay.
There was a weight still on the floor. Pomni dropped her gaze to the WINNER sash—pink with sparkles, bright shimmering under the ceiling lights—now crumpled and pressed into the ground. She stared at the footprint stamped into it, and under the weight of that heel-mark, Pomni could almost sense the way Jax’s words now suffocated with it on the Circus floor.
