"My teeth hurt," Martyn says.
He and Scott are on the deck, enjoying the morning sun before it has the chance to get humid; Scott is busy crafting sugarcane into paper while Martyn is (ostensibly) trying to carve a bowl.
"What, like- cavities? We've only been here for a few days, and I know you're eating the same fish and dried kelp as me." Scott pauses, holding a fresh sheaf of paper. "-and if you're not, and you've been holding sweets out on me, I'll be pissed."
Martyn huffs a laugh, then grimaces when pain shoots up through his sinuses. Ambling over to the table, he half-sits, half-leans on the back of one of their deck chairs.
"Nah, same food as you. Man, I don't know what I did. TNT to the face carry over, d'you reckon?"
He grins, and Scott blanches. Well, shit.
"Alright, what's wrong with my mouth?" Martyn asks, stress rising when Scott doesn't answer. "I've still got teeth, right?"
Scott nods sharply. He wavers on an answer for a moment before sighing. "Yeah. You've just got some new ones, seems like."
The hard part of suddenly having shark teeth, Martyn quickly discovers, is that they are not particularly designed for beings with lips, and certainly not ones that talk.
He tells Scott this, nursing several sore spots on his lips and tongue.
"Have you considered talking less?"
"Oh, screw you."
Scott rolls his eyes, and they go back to sorting through chests in companionable silence. Waves gently lap against the edge of their island, while bamboo canes creak and shift. After a few minutes Scott says, "In the- last time. I remember being relieved, a bit, that even though Cleo and I chose each other-"
"Exactly the conversation I wanted to have," Martyn deadpans.
"Would you shut up? Honestly." Scott smiles, but his jaw flexes as he does and Martyn resolves to shut up and let him say this, whatever it is. At least for the next ten or fifteen seconds. Probably.
"Anyways. I was a tiny bit relieved that I was paired with Pearl, because she was human. And I'd seen how it was for BigB getting canine features and Joel getting whatever the hell from Etho, and you, y'know..."
"Eugh. Yeah." Scott looks through their fence-lattice walls and out to the water. "But Pearl didn't stay human."
Martyn raises an eyebrow. (For effect. If Scott is doing a dramatic monologue towards the ocean, Martyn at least gets to make faces, whether or not Scott sees him. Them's the rules.)
"She got kind of... wolf-y? Or more accurately, the game made her wolfy. Not like Ren, not nearly that elegant a combination."
Scott's voice is bitter, an edge to it that Martyn associates with fireworks going off too-close by. "I woke up one morning and my teeth were sharp and there were too many for my mouth. And it hurt, and the worst part was knowing this wouldn't be happening if we'd just done what the game wanted."
Blinking, Martyn says, "Oh." Brilliant. Nailed the response, there.
"I just wanted to tell you. That it might- those might be my fault, because it seems like whatever runs this game doesn't like me very much. There's a reason I set up alone out here."
Martyn- ignoring the ache from his jaw and the kernel of self-interest that tells him to get while the getting is good- scoffs. "None of that, thank you! I don't care if bloody Herobrine has it out for you, we're sticking together."
Relief washes over Scott's face. Martyn adds, "If whoever runs this circus thinks unlimited knives for teeth is a punishment, they're mad."
"Clearly! You were already enough of a menace." Released from whatever tension kept him still, Scott reaches over to flip another chest lid up and starts rifling through. "It's like trying to annoy Joel by giving him too many TNT minecarts."
Martyn snorts. "Right! Once my mouth gets the memo about where everything is now I'll be doing fine- probably better than I was before! A supernatural entity trying to tell me who I can be friends with? C'mon, nothing that stupid is busting the Mean Gills up."
He almost believes it.