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After all their time spent on Snaktooth Island, and with all the time afterwards having barely survived, Floofty feels they have made great strides to amend their relationship with their brother and with the others. Now, in the wake of Filbo’s sure to be victory in the upcoming election, Floofty has spent more time than they anticipated analyzing just how everyone changed even where they wouldn’t have spared the sentimentality to do so before.
It seems their small group has earned a camaraderie with one another that even they find a welcome change, though they suppose anything would be better than the fate they could have suffered on Snaktooth Island if not for the efforts of that journalist turned campaign advisor.
Said journalist is a common subject in Floofty’s musings in just how little the journalist has changed compared to everyone else. Where everyone the journalist had met on the island have overcome their personal issues to improve, Floofty can’t help but be slowly driven to frustration watching the journalist be the same Grumpus as ever.
They can’t let this continue any longer.
“Excuse me,” Floofty addresses. The journalist looks up at them. They frown. “A moment of your time, if you will.”
“Oh, sure,” the journalist says, standing and following Floofty to a more secluded corner of the office space in use for Filbo’s mayoral campaign. “What do you need?”
Floofty tucks their arms behind their back and frowns at the journalist. “You have a problem.”
The journalist looks taken aback by that. “What? No, I don’t.”
“Indeed you do,” Floofty says, sliding their arms in front of them to tap their cheek in thought. A sort of nervous tick of theirs, though they have no need to be nervous with how confident they are in their observations. “Your problem is that you are so incessantly drawn towards pleasing others that you are incapable of saying ‘no’.”
The journalist sends them a confused look. “What do you mean?”
“What do I mean?” Floofty demands. “Have the events from Snaktooth Island not sunk into your mind? You at no point refused to help any of us, even with how immoral or ridiculous our requests were. Why else would you entertain Snorpington’s delusions or so willingly help me try to decapitate myself?”
The journalist falters, hesitating before answering. “It all worked out, didn’t it?”
“Do not try to deflect.” Floofty should have known better than to expect this to be an easy conversation, but if they have to explain their logic, then so be it. “Even in the pursuit of material for that rag you were so ruthlessly discharged from, you certainly must have the common sense not to adhere to just anyone’s every whim and fancy.” They tilt their head in curiosity. “Did you truly believe my theories, or did you only agree to assist me in my experiment because you did not have the mind to refuse?”
The journalist smiles in a way that Floofty just knows will precede a sarcastic answer. “Maybe I have no regard for Grumpus life and wanted to see what would happen.”
Leave it to the journalist to be difficult. “If that were truly the case, you would have left all of us to perish on Snaktooth Island while you escaped with Filbo.” This isn’t going anywhere. Perhaps they shouldn’t have even tried. “It is not my responsibility to help you overcome your personal issues,” they decide, turning to leave. “If you merely plan to continue ignoring them, then so be it.”
The journalist flinches. “Wait— Floofty.”
Floofty waits. “Are you willing to discuss matters now?”
The journalist frowns at them. “I want to know why you suddenly care.”
They sputter indignantly. Of all the things to ask! “I am trying to be more accepting of others,” they state through clenched teeth. “But you are continuing to make it difficult with your unwillingness to learn.”
“So it’s not because I could have killed you?” the journalist asks.
They stare, anger rising in their chest. “Of course it’s because you could have killed me, you simpleton! If you had the audacity to refuse, then Snorpington would not have needed to rush in and save me!”
“Would that have stopped you if I said no?”
Floofty falters at that. “Well— Perhaps not, however—”
The journalist cuts them off. “Then what’s the matter?”
Floofty sighs. What’s the matter indeed. “The ‘matter’,” they say with air quotes, “is that not only did you put my life at risk, you have been needlessly putting yours at risk. You may be remarkably resilient, perhaps questionably so, with how often you have survived large falls, being frozen in ice or conversely lit on fire, and other sorts of injuries that would have hindered any number of us, but I doubt you are impervious to death. You faced countless bugsnax and risked death several times over for the mere chance at speaking with Elizabert Megafig, even without needing to cater to the desires of any of us residing in Snaxburg.” They frown, leaning forward for emphasis. “You are going to get yourself killed one day for agreeing so readily to do whatever any Grumpus asks. Do you see the problem, or are you as dull as my initial perception of you?”
The journalist looks more doubtful than offended, but even that’s not the progress Floofty wants. “I had to do everything I could to get more information for my article. My job was on the line.”
“Yes, of course,” Floofty scoffs. “Because that clearly isn’t indicative of my observation that you will do anything for approval.”
“...Floofty, are you...” The journalist squints in uncertainty. “Are you... worried about me?”
Floofty sputters again. “I— Don’t— Don’t deflect. I have told you already—”
“You’re allowed to be worried about me,” the journalist says. “I’m just confused why.”
“Because—” Floofty takes a breath. They need to keep calm. “Because you... are perhaps the only one to have given me and my theories a chance aside from Eggabell. And unlike Eggabell, you had no reason to after seeing just how irresponsible my methods were and dealing with my poor treatment of you.” They tap their cheek again as they try to gather their thoughts. “Unlike other journalists who have been so quick to call my methods outlandish or questionable, you were either foolish enough or just... trusting enough that you went through with what I asked without too much complaint. I was able to confide in you, even if I had my doubts of your ability to understand what I was sharing. You were perhaps the closest I had to calling a friend. And after you spent so much time helping all of us with our inane requests, I cannot help but be concerned that, perhaps, you too need help.”
The journalist smiles. Floofty regrets speaking. “You thought of me as a friend?”
“Yes,” Floofty frowns. “Although, you are making me question that judgement.”
“Well...” The journalist sighs. “Maybe I do have a problem.”
Floofty smiles at that. “As I have already been saying.”
“It’s just...” The journalist shrugs. “I’ve always been a failure of a journalist. Every time I publish something I think would change the world, someone disproves everything I uncovered and my reputation goes down the drain. I thought that everything that happened on Snaktooth Island would be my last chance to keep my job, to publish something worthwhile, and to prove that I’m not the failure everyone thinks I am...And then everyone started asking me to help them and it... It felt like I was actually accomplishing something for once. That I was good at something and that people actually liked me and trusted me to help them.”
Floofty frowns. “You truly think your worth is tied to others’ perception of you?”
The journalist smiles in that sarcastic way again. “Well, that, and catching bugsnax was a lot of fun until they started trying to kill all of us.”
They sigh and place their face in their paw. “That still doesn’t explain why you went along with my requests.”
The journalist glances away, almost shyly. “Well... You seemed to know what you were talking about. I guess I wanted to trust you that it’d be alright.”
“Hmm.” Floofty tries not to smile, but they smirk a little anyway. “How touching... If incredibly naive.”
The journalist smirks back. “You’re only saying that because you were wrong.”
“Perhaps.” Floofty lowers their arms to tuck them behind their back again. “But now that we’ve identified the problem, the next step is to fix it.”
“...Wait, what?”
“You need to learn to be able to say ‘no’ to any requests that put you or others in danger.” Floofty adjusts their glasses. “If we want you to stay with us longer, you need to learn that sacrificing self-preservation in favor of approval is detrimental to your well-being.” They hum, tapping their cheek as they smile. “Perhaps if we could surgically rewire the neurons in your brain...”
The journalist pulls a nervous look. “I don’t think that’s a good idea...”
“Good. That was a test.”
The journalist sighs. “Floofty...”
“What?” Floofty asks. “It’s working, isn’t it?”
The journalist reaches out and pats Floofty’s shoulder. “Thank you.”
Floofty blinks, confused. “Why are you thanking me? We have not yet fully solved your issue.”
“For caring,” the journalist explains. “You’re being a good friend, and I appreciate that.”
Floofty tries not to stumble over their words. “Ah— Yes, well—”
“Hey, buddy!” Filbo calls over at the two of them, waving to flag down the journalist. “Think you could help me out with something?”
The journalist waves to acknowledge Filbo and then looks over Floofty again. “I better go see what he needs.”
Floofty frowns. “Again. You are proving my point.”
“Floofty. It’s Filbo. I’m his campaign manager?”
“...Point taken.” Floofty sighs. “Very well. We’ll merely have to continue this later.”
The journalist chuckles. “Sure thing, Floofty.”
With that, the journalist walks away... And Snorpington walks up to them.
“...What?” Floofty demands. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
Snorpy grins. “You still haven’t told the orange journalist how you feel.”
Floofty knows what he is pulling instantly, and they are in no way fond of it. “Snorpington!” they scowl. “That is uncalled for!”
“After how you treated me about Chandlo, I’d say it is.” Snorpy crosses his arms. “Perhaps you should say something. Given how much time you spent calling me a coward, it’s so fitting that you too wouldn’t admit your feelings.”
Floofty bristles. “Well then. Perhaps I will say something.”
“Mm-hmm?” Snorpy smiles, expectantly. “But...?”
Floofty hesitates. “But... not quite yet.”