Page 8 of A Merry Christmas for Art… and His Tentacles

Dean

First of all, I had no idea that Art had never been ice skating before. Really, that was total stupidity on my part. The guy never gets out, so of course, he hadn’t been ice skating.

It was one of the things that popped into my head for an activity, though, and he seemed interested in the idea, so I figured maybe it was something cephalopods did as kids, just like humans did.

And maybe I had an image of us skating hand-in-hand around the rink. Sappy? Yup. But I’m a sucker for Art (pun intended), and the idea of holding hands with him was a definite perk.

Being wrapped in his tentacles, though? Well, that was a hell of a lot better than just holding hands. I spent most of the time we were skating trying not to let him know exactly how much I liked his tentacles wrapped around me. Luckily, or maybe unluckily, he started to get the hang of it and ended up skating next to me by the time the Zamboni was ready to come out. We walked off together and are currently standing and watching the ice get resurfaced.

Art is mumbling under his breath, probably figuring out the mechanics of how the Zamboni works. It’s kind of cute.

“Should we get some hot chocolate?” I ask when Art falls quiet. I think he’s fully figured out how the Zamboni works, because he’s turned toward me.

“Hot chocolate has caffeine and sugar, which are both addictive. Did you know that lab rats preferred cookies to cocaine in a study, since the sugar activated more neurons in the rats’ brains than either cocaine or morphine?” Art asks.

I smile at him, but he tilts his head, and a tentacle reaches out toward me, lightly brushing against my arm. I try not to shiver at the sensation.

“I said something wrong, didn’t I?” Art asks.

“Well…” I start, but I’m not sure how to continue. I don’t want to hurt his feelings. And honestly, I think he’s super cute. I love the nerd aesthetic, and I love that Art is just himself. Unfortunately, our boss and the lab techs don’t seem to find it as endearing.

“I thought it was an interesting study. Should I not talk about scientific studies? I thought that because we’re both scientists, you might find it interesting as well. Was it because the study involved animal testing?” Art asks.

Oh, boy. I lead Art over to a bench, because I can see he’s wobbling a bit standing in his skates. His tentacles gently hold onto me as we make our way to the bench, and I feel flushed from more than just the exercise of ice skating.

Maybe ice skating wasn’t the best first activity, because I’m sure Art has no clue what he’s doing to me. I’m not even sure if he’d like the idea of what he’s doing to me, and I definitely don’t want to come across as a creep.

“You can take the skates off if they’re uncomfortable. We can put them back on if we go back onto the ice,” I say, although Isense Art might be done ice skating for today. I really don’t want our time together to end, though.

Art sighs in relief, and I watch, fascinated, as hands and tentacles make quick work of getting the skates off.

I wonder how long it would take his hands and tentacles to get my clothes off.

Focus, Dean.

“So, I just want to start off by saying that I like you just as you are, Art. I like hearing about studies, and I like your quirky answers. I know you’re just really inquisitive and have a ton of knowledge that you like to share,” I say.

“I appreciate that, but I sense that there is a qualifier to that statement. Otherwise, people wouldn’t get so mad at me,” Art mumbles.

“Yes, well, some people are assholes,” I mumble back. Art looks shocked at that, so I smile at him. “And some people just don’t know any better. So, you’re super smart, and humans, and even other cryptids, don’t like to feel like they aren’t smart. Sometimes when you’re discussing technical issues or studies, people don’t understand as much as you, and they feel stupid.”

“Ignorance is not stupidity. Shouldn’t they be excited to learn new things?” Art asks, and I can tell he is genuinely perplexed.

“Well, not everyone wants to always acquire new knowledge. Sometimes people just like to have fun. Sometimes people do things, like drink a caffeinated and sugary drink, just because it’s enjoyable. When you tell them how bad it is for them and give them a lesson on it, it makes it not so much fun,” I answer honestly.

Art looks thoughtful. “So I should not comment on a person’s poor choices?”

I laugh. “Yes, that does kind of sum it up. People don’t like to have their poor choices pointed out.”

“But that could have catastrophic effects in the lab,” Art argues, his tone a little more firm.

“Yes, well, if someone is going to harm themselves or someone else, and it’s work related, then yes, you should tell them, as nicely as possible, that what they’re doing is incorrect and why. People expect to learn at work. But when it comes to fun things, people expect to… Well, to have fun,” I say, not sure how else to explain it.

“But Dean Miller, we were in the lab when the lab techs quit, so obviously these rules do not always apply.”

Hmm. I never realized how hard navigating social situations really is. Different places have different rules, and that’s where Art seems to be stuck. He applies the same rules all the time, never mind the fact that even in one environment, like work, there were work situations and then there were social situations, and a person (or cryptid) was just supposed to know which rules apply at any given moment.

I hum thoughtfully for a moment. How to explain?

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