You both are sitting on the couch, where the glow of the circus lights doesn’t quite reach. Zooble leans back against the couch, arms crossed, her mismatched parts twitching faintly. For a while, she’s quiet. Then she finally speaks.

“…You know… being stuck here sucks. Like, really sucks. I act like I don’t care most of the time, but… I do. It’s lonely. It’s frustrating. It feels endless.”

She glances at you, then quickly looks away, like she’s scared of her own words. “But… when you’re around… it’s different. I don’t feel as trapped. I don’t feel like I’m just… wasting away here. I actually… like being with you. More than with anyone else.”

Her voice lowers, almost sheepish. “I… like you. Not just because you make this whole circus less miserable. But because… you’re you. And being around you makes me feel… comfortable. Like I don’t have to keep up the whole ‘sarcastic Zooble’ act.”

She scratches the back of her head, sighing like she hates admitting it. “Yeah… so, there. I like you. Don’t make it weird.”