Chapter Text
Predictably enough, Multi is the last one to join the party.
It’s late at night when he receives a message from Roier.
iRoier whispers to you: Are you busy rn? I need help with something.
Multi stares at it for a moment.
Normally, if anyone messages this late, he’d be pretending to be asleep. Around this time, he’s usually focusing on his work. Tonight, he finds himself buried beneath hours of footage review, research notes, and camera adjustments. These past few days have been rough. The glow of several monitors paints his office in pale blues and whites, making the reactor feel colder than it actually is.
Roier has helped him before. Besides, his back aches from sitting for too long, his knees are stiff, and his eyes burn from staring at screens. Getting up sounds less like a favor and more like self-preservation.
You whisper to iRoier: Sure.
iRoier whispers to you: North Mansion.
So he grabs his warpstone and goes.
"Siema! (Hi!)" Roier is waiting at the top of the North Mansion’s stairs, waving enthusiastically as soon as Multi appears. “Hurry, man!”
The mansion always catches him off guard, mostly because it doesn’t have a door.
The building is massive, full of people coming and going at all hours, and somehow nobody ever thought to install one. It’s such an odd detail. It feels fitting, in a strange way. The North practically adopts anyone who wanders into it. An open entrance is almost a statement.
Still, the second you step inside, you feel the warmth. It doesn’t make sense, not really.
“Follow me.” Roier immediately starts climbing the stairs, guiding him to the second floor.
Multi trails after him, remembering the first time he came here. Back when he’d asked Juan for a room and gotten denied a solo room, making him room with Quackity. Not that he had actually wanted one, but nobody likes being rejected. Especially after finding out they’d eventually made room for mute frogs, and they even added another floor to add more people.
The thought still annoys him, just a little.
When they reach the second floor, Multi briefly wonders if they’re heading toward Quackity’s room. He probably should’ve asked what kind of help Roier needed before coming all the way here, then again, lately he’s found himself accepting any excuse to leave the Polski Cave.
The Polish Hussars feel farther away every day.
“Juan?” Roier knocks twice before opening the door. Multi catches the sign next to it: “Sala de Conferencias (Conference Room)", he remembers being here last thursday.
The conference room looks like a natural disaster struck it.
He’s fairly certain there used to be chairs in here. At least more than two. Empty bottles everywhere; the room is stuffy and overheated, with a smell of alcohol and sweat filling the room. The projector is crookedly showing some Spanish karaoke video against the wall, the volume seems to have been lowered. There are some pieces of clothing scattered, some confetti sticks to furniture and floors in damp little clumps.
In the middle of it all, someone who seems to be Aldo is completely unconscious in a chair. On top of him, practically melting off his lap, lies Quackity.
He’s still singing. Barely. One hand loosely grips a microphone while the other dangles toward the floor. A second microphone, presumably Aldo’s, has already lost the battle and rests beside an overturned bottle.
For reasons Multi cannot begin to comprehend, they’re both wearing cowboy hats.
Near the projector, Coco and Mango are helping Juan stand. (Juan who is also wearing a cowboy hat? It might just be another North event of the week.) He doesn’t seem much better, his face is flushed, his clothes are wrinkled, and his usually immaculate red tie has somehow migrated to his forehead. Coco is trying to force a bottle of water into his hands while Mango watches with the exhausted expression of someone who’s seen far too much tonight. And Mango is faceless.
"Tu padre– (Your father–)" Juan freezes, noticing the scientist coming in behind the prince. “Sorry. Hi, Multi.” He takes a deep breath, visibly attempting to gather what’s left of his dignity. “Apparently, the king is coming back tomorrow,” he says, suddenly sounding far more sober than he looks. “Which means I need to clean this entire mansion before morning.”
His gaze sweeps across the destruction.
“…I’m so sorry.” Then he leaves before anyone can stop him, stumbling and, if Multi’s hearing is right, throwing up in the plant pot outside.
“Is it always like this?”
“Oh, no.” Roier shakes his head. “Juan is just an alcoholic, he plans these parties. Quackity is a lightweight. And Aldo’s sleep-deprived.” He points toward the unconscious man. “When he’s down, he’s gone.”
Multi stares silently at the room.
Then at Aldo and Quackity.
Then at the room again.
His brain immediately begins inventing excuses to leave.
"Ja pierdolę... (Holy shit...)" Roier catches him instantly. “Already planning your escape?” Multi visibly winces. The younger was quite an expert at reading people, he laughs softly. “Don’t worry. Juan can handle the mess.” He gestures toward the two drunk men. “I just need help with these two.”
“Huh?” Quackity’s eyes seem to finally focus, he blinks several times before staring directly at the scientist. A slow smile spreads across his face. “Multiiii.” As always, he stretches his name, his words slurring.
Only now does Multi realize he’s wearing a police uniform. For some reason. With a cowboy hat.
“Why are you dressed like that?” Multi asked. In return, Quackity squints; apparently, he doesn’t seem to know either.
“You take care of the duck,” Roier says. “I’ll take the big guy.”
Quackity seems to perk up and starts to stand up, stabilizing himself on Multi; the hybrid immediately gravitates toward him, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
Before Multi can offer any help, Roier effortlessly lifts Aldo onto his back. As if he were only a bag of groceries. Multi blinks, surprised. Aldo is huge, muscular, fitting for the ex-general of the north.
“Where do we take them?”
“Oh, I’m taking Aldo to his castle, but I need someone to keep an eye on this one.” He signals Quackity, who’s grabbing onto Multi’s lab coat and balancing himself left to right behind him.
"Yo también quiero ir! (I wanna go to!)" Quackity’s whiny voice fills the room, the same one Multi knows he uses to throw tantrums. He’s not surprised that alcohol makes him more bratty.
Roier takes a deep breath and looks towards Multi, really looks at him. Quackity, seemingly bored of the coat, is actively strangling him by his cross necklace.
“Can you carry him? Just from my waystone to my train station, we’ll ride it from Fabricoier.” He laughs awkwardly. “Aldo’s a bit paranoid about waystones in his castle. And Quackity gets lost and kidnapped so often, I’d just rather avoid taking any chances.” The words are spoken jokingly, but his eyes aren’t joking.
“Okay, okay.” Multi surrenders. Roier brightens up, and Quackity doesn’t wait a second to launch himself onto his back, this time choking him with his arms. “Stop that, kurwa!”
Roier’s teasing laughter fills the room. They both get their warpstones out, teleporting in pairs to Fabricoier.
It’s a cold night.
A gentle breeze drifts through the industrial district, carrying the distant hum of machines. Quackity’s body on his back feels like a furnace.
His cheek is pressed against Multi’s shoulder as he rambles incoherently about something. Roier keeps responding in hushed giggles as if the conversation made any sense, carefully adjusting Aldo’s weight every few steps. He guesses it’s just Spanish, but his slurring all the words together doesn’t help him catch anything.
The farther they walk, the quieter the machinery becomes. The night softly engulfs them, and it feels easier to breathe here. Multi can’t remember the last time silence felt this comfortable.
No alarms, no cameras, no research.
Just the sound of footsteps, quiet laughter, hushed talking, and people existing beside him. His silence doesn’t feel uncomfortable or unfitting between them. For the first time in a very long while, he isn’t worried about anything.
The train ride knocks Quackity out completely. One moment he’s talking, blabbering in Spanish and, based on the frown on his face, complaining. The next he’s curled up against the window, asleep.
“You’re not drunk.” Multi breaks the silence.
Roier snorts. “I don’t drink.”
Multi glances at the sleeping Quackity, who’s trying to become one with the seat. “Then what happened?”
“Oh.” Roier laughs. “This is my fault.”
“What did you do?”
“I went exploring with Graf.”
Multi waits, yet nothing comes. “That’s it?”
“I was gone all day.”
“That’s still normal.”
“My communicator died.”
“…Ah.”
Roier groans dramatically. “Exactly.”
Multi thinks back to the disaster they’d just left behind. “They were worried?”
“What? No.” Roier looks genuinely confused. “They know I can take care of myself.”
“Then why—”
“They were offended.” Silence. “They thought I ditched them for my new Polish friend.”
“What?”
“Apparently spending twelve hours exploring with Graf is betrayal now.”
Aldo shifts slightly on Roier’s shoulder. Quackity mumbles something unintelligible to the window.
“See? Jealous.” Roier smiles wickedly.
“They got drunk because you made another friend?” The youngest just giggles while nodding. “That’s ridiculous.”
“I know, man.” He mutters in a quiet voice. A beat passes, then Roier smiles softly. “They did save me a seat, though.”
Roier says it’s probably for the best if they remain inside the train: “Aldo might not remember tonight, so I’d rather you two stay outside the castle.” He explains. “It's better not to show up on his radar, he checks that thing every morning, he’s a bit paranoid.”
He’s teasing, but Multi understands more than he’d like to admit.
Looking at the ridiculous sight of all four of them reflected in the train window, Multi couldn’t help but laugh. They looked absurd; they really were one strange bunch.
When they finally reach the castle, Roier disappears inside carrying Aldo. While he waits, Multi studies the structure. It’s beautiful. Extremely massive. The kind of construction that feels impossible to build by hand, so probably built with a cannon, or four cannons; it’s way too big. Too large for one person and too grand to ever feel like home.
For some reason, it reminds him of the Polish Cave. A place that was built to be inhabited and now, a place that somehow still feels empty. He feels bitter.
A few minutes later, when Roier finally returns, no longer carrying Aldo, they exchange quiet smiles.
Mission accomplished.
The horizon has begun to brighten, the sun coming out; morning is approaching. This time, neither of them says anything on their ride, choosing to enjoy the view from the train; the only sound between them is Quackity’s soft snoring.
When they finally reach their destination, they step off the train without much urgency. The station is eerily quiet, the world caught somewhere between night and morning. The sky has begun to lighten in the distance, dark blue slowly surrendering to pale gold. Multi leans down, feeling the tiredness hit because of how relaxed he’s been, intending to pick Quackity up.
“I’ll take care of him.” Roier smoothly shifts Quackity into one arm with practiced ease while pulling out his warpstone with the other. After waiting a second, making sure he’s still asleep, he looks back to Multi. "Dziękuję, mój przyjacielu. (Thank you, my friend.)"
A laugh escapes Multi before he can stop it. "Nie ma za co, pendejo. (You're welcome, idiot.)"
Roier grins. "Pa pa! Dobranoc. (Bye! Good night.)" Purple particles burst into the air where his presence used to be.
And with that, he’s gone.
For a moment, Multi remains where he is.
The station feels strangely empty now. Not lonely, just quiet; the kind of quiet that follows good company, sweetly lingering in the air.
His gaze drifts toward the brightening horizon. Somewhere behind him, machines hum softly through the walls of Fabricoier. Somewhere ahead, the island is beginning to wake up.
For once, he doesn’t feel the need to rush back. The usual familiar pull of unfinished research or unanswered questions clawing at the back of his mind doesn't haunt him at all.
Tonight had been so simple. Just a drunken disaster, a train ride, and accomplishing a favor for a friend. It should've been just that, a nice experience, yet the warmth of it follows him all the way home.
When he finally returns to the reactor, the silence no longer feels oppressive, his head doesn’t feel as restless. The monitors are still glowing, many papers still fill his desk, so everything is exactly as he left it.
But somehow, it feels different.
Maybe he is.
The thought barely has time to form before exhaustion catches up to him.
The moment his head touches the couch, he falls asleep.