Solana was drying herself off humming a catchy tune. She seemed happier.
"You know," she said while wrapping her towel back around her body, the fabric hugging her hips and bust. "We never got around to that unique Slime Evolution Theory I promised you."
Jack was exhausted like he had run a marathon; she had wrung him dry. But hearing the words evolution gave him a second wind. His pancake form was no more, he was a plump round blob.
"Go on sensei," Jack's figurine form and his Polymorphic Voice skill appeared.
The mini Jack on the bench's posture mirrored one of a student listening attentively to his master.
"Like skills evolve from reaching its max level-"
Someone burst into the room again. Jack wanted to strangle whoever it was for interrupting their conversation.
"JACK!"
His wife crossed her arms, the look of disappointment was clear as day. She was tapping her foot frantically, muttering something about how irresponsible he was, enjoying himself while she and Aria were being bombarded by a dozen elven laws about taxes, work ethics, and even clothing.
The slime however gulped. The aura radiating off of the woman was different. Jack could smell anger; this was worse than when he said that he loved their little handholding.
"Solana leave the room," she commanded the elf.
Solana who was putting on her clothes was not one to simply take orders from a human. She turned to Jack with a quizzical look, her head tilted. He gestured a 'go away' with a tentacle.
And she did. Leaving the two alone to their own devices. And Jeanne looked like a lioness ready to pounce on her prey. But all she did was sigh.
With slumped shoulder she sat down on the floor, not caring about the water staining her pants. She was just staring at the puddles, her mind was elsewhere.
"Jeanne this is kind of scarier than when you hurt me," he said, taking a step back.
But instead of an angry response, he saw her lower her head, her hands trembling on her lap.
"Why do you keep doing this?" Her voice was brittle, cracking.
He opened the conversation with a joke.
"Because I'm a stud." The tension was too much to handle.
Jeanne looked up from the puddle, and what he saw in her eyes sent a jolt of genuine fear down to his non-existent spine.
Stepping back, he held up his tentacles, "I do it for points obviously like I already said. I grow stronger by holding hands."
She let out a hollow laugh, devoid of any real humor.
"My god you are hopeless," she said. It wasn't a whisper, or a shout. "You don't need to do sexual acts when you hold hands." Her lips pulled back into a grimace. "You're acting like you're not married to me." Jeanne's shoulders slumped.
She squeezed her eye shut, a single, hot tear escaping and tracing a path through her cheek.
His stomach felt hard; a lump formed in his throat. He felt empathy for her. To her the marriage title meant alot but to him it was just a title. Of course he thought about actually being loyal but they had to talk about it. And admittedly Jack never started that conversation.
"We're married but at the same time not married," Jack said. "Your title and my title are just that, titles. Nothing more."
He hopped towards her and his wife didn't pull away.
"You think all the sacrifices I did were for a title? I sacrificed because I... I care." Her confession hung in the steaming air, raw and trembling.
"I care," she said, her voice cracking again.
The word echoed in Jack's core. He broke eye contact and stared at the damp wooden planks, a feeling he couldn't name, something heavy and uncomfortable, settling deep within him.
Sighing, he jumped on her lap. He knew a physical gesture was necessary. Something akin to holding hands, but this was not one of those.
"Of course I care too," he mumbled against the fabric of her pants.
If he didn't he wouldn't have risked his life aganst the snow-ogre, or would have left her in the snow after she lost her arm, or not accept the Geas. The list of 'heroic' deeds was adding up. A tiny traitorous part of him wondered if he was becoming too soft.
Jeanne's body tensed at the touch, then slowly, almost imperceptibly, relaxed. Her remaining hand came to rest on him, not squeezing or pushing him away, just...resting.
"I lost my class," she confessed.
"What?" Jack tilted his head, a real concern seeping through. "Like you don't have Holy Magic anymore?"
She nodded. "I was excommunicated..."
Resting her head on the wall behind her she took a shaky breath.
"I lost my title, my class, my arm, my goddess all within a month," her voice cracked. A broken chuckle escaped her lips, a sound devoid of humor.
"The only thing I have is you."
Jack tried to speak but he was at a loss for words. She continued before he could muster any.
"That's why when I heard Laurel talking about Elven marriage it scared me. To do that I'd have to start worshipping Yggdrasil and Dyonis. Start completely over. Get rid of my entire childhood memories and the little faith I have left." Her fingers drew idle patterns on his slimy back. The touch was hesitant, an apology.
"And to see you with that elf woman... it felt like you were already moving on. Leaving me."
Her honesty was a punch to the gut, leaving him breathless and adrift.
"Jeanne..." He wanted to tell her she was wrong. That he wasn't moving on.
Yet he was. He didn't need her to stay alive anymore; he had Aria, Nimue, Solana, Ms Snuffles. He had a world of possibilities now. Still it stung. The truth always did.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, the words feeling alien and insufficient on his slime-tongue.
He tried to think of the right thing to say, something that would fix this without sacrificing everything. But he knew he couldn't promise anything regarding other women. He needed handholding points. He needed evolution. He needed more.
"If you're willing to change your mind about us handholding then-"
Jeanne flinched as if he'd slapped her, the tenderness in her eyes icing over.
"Are you asking me to sacrifice even more?" she scoffed, "For what? Your 'system'? I lost a lot, and your solution is that I give up the last scrap of myself?"
She pushed him off her lap with a gentleness that felt like an insult. His plump body hit the damp wood with a wet plop.
Standing up, Jeanne walked away.
"I think I'll figure it out on my own," she said and shut the door behind her, leaving Jack alone with a heavy heart.