He was going to continue arguing, but immediately fell silent upon being told to shut up. At first, he felt a bit annoyed and hurt, but upon hearing that familiar insult, dork, he couldn’t help but crack a small, but sad smile. Peter really wanted to say something, he did, but he had no clue what he’d even bring up. Asking if she was okay was a dumb question, and going in to give her a hug, some kind of comfort, it didn’t seem like a good idea. So he just stood there, awkwardly shifting from foot to foot as he waited.
She seemed…so worn down and exhausted, and this other emotion he couldn’t really sense. Regret? No, it didn’t really feel like that. Emptiness maybe? It was always kind of hard to tell with her. Soda stared for minutes (or at least it felt like that).
He stiffened up a bit as she stepped forward and grabbed his collar, mostly out of surprise, but quickly relaxed. Peter fumbled as Soda began trying to pull him down, a foot stepping forward a bit to catch himself before he went crashing onto the floor. After a moment of thought, he wrapped an arm around her continued the motion to go down with her, only without risking one of them hurting themselves going down, until they were both sitting.
“Sugar, what are you doing?” he asked, more curious and slightly amused than anything else.
The burst of self-destructive energy vanished, but she was left disoriented in its wake, trying to figure out how she’d arrived here. Fortunately, Peter seemed steadier on his feet than she was. His half-hug was very much appreciated, even if her baffled expression plainly detailed the effort it took to recalibrate and remember to recognize him.
Well, she was here now, and still frustrated and highly overwhelmed. Now would’ve been a wonderful time to pummel his chest and scream at him, but she already had a headache, thank you very much. Instead, her own chest heaves as she tries to catch her violently shaky breath, and she doesn’t mask how hard she flinches away at Peter’s choice of nickname.
“ I--- That’s what I called... ”  She forces another deep breath, closing her eyes and steadying herself with one hand on Peter’s shoulder. Their legs were entangled in a way she might’ve called awkward with any spare ounce of awareness, but as it was --- she wasn’t about to fuckin’ argue.  “ Rina. A mimic Octoling I knew once. And I--- ”  Soda lets out a high-pitched giggle, ducking her head as the turquoise on her cheeks continued to darken.  “ I kissed her after I said that. So--- you know, I--- ”
She pressed her hand to the back of his neck, tilted her head up, and kissed him, full on the lips.
“ Mm. I don’t... know what I’m doing. But I’m a little... ”  Another shaky inhale.  “ A little tired of, you know... giving a damn. ”
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