Chapter Text
It's the height of summer and the Cleaners are headed to the only lake around which hasn't yet been inundated by offerings from the heavens. Cicadas sing their chorus from outside. Zanka isn't completely certain he'll make it through this day alive.
Dramatic, maybe, but he feels he deserves a little burst of drama for all the angst this last-minute trip has given him. They'd only been told yesterday that this was even happening so Zanka hadn't gotten the chance to head out and maybe buy something new to wear. This means he's been digging through his wardrobe for the last ten minutes and has only just settled on an outfit.
"They should have given us more time," Zanka grumbles to himself, changing quick now since he doesn't want to be the last one ready. As if hearing this, there's a loud and rhythmic thump at the door that almost startles him out of his skin.
"We're leaving in two minutes, any stragglers will not be allowed to join after," Enjin half-yells through the wood. He's completely serious too. Zanka still remembers the time they went to the museum and Gris was left behind because he set his alarm wrong. It's enough to get him stumbling forward to swing the door open, Enjin's hand halfway poised to deliver another round of knocking.
"I'm ready," Zanka says, smiling in the hopes that it'll cover up the slight quiver of his voice. Enjin's got a pair of sunglasses on, effortlessly cool, though he pushes them back and squints at Zanka. He waits for a compliment.
"Corvus is threatening to cut off funding for trips." Enjin grins, shark tooth sharp. "You better get your ass out there now."
Okay. No compliments then. Zanka can deal with that. He smiles, close lipped and slips out into the hallway, already a little jittery for no discernable reason other than he's young and excited and–
He's had something—someone—on his mind for a while now and it's starting to become a distraction. Zanka side-eyes Enjin while they walk down, considering whether this would be a good moment to ask for advice. He's sure Enjin is far more worldly than him, and certainly cool enough to have some answers on the topic. But he can't make his throat make the right sound, a little warm with what might be embarrassment. Divulging on his innermost thoughts, voluntarily offering up his emotions, sounds a little like a humiliation ritual – and he already went through enough of those when he first joined the Cleaners. Zanka isn't meant to have emotions.
Everyone has emotions, Zanka reminds himself, a little irritated over this monologue of self-pity. He chews at the flesh of his cheek while he watches Enjin go busy himself with Riyo. Though people wouldn't expect them from me. Ultimately, it's not worth it to tamper with his image just to satiate some curiosity, especially not curiosity which won't go anywhere.
They filter out through the entrance, the day already oozing with the sort of slowness that Zanka has learned to cherish. Bro Santa bumps against him, too busy carrying a bunch of Team Child necessities to do much more than throw a quick sorry over his shoulder.
Well, Bro calls it necessities but Zanka isn't sure how a snorkel could be necessary for the lake. He glances down at his own waist bag, utilitarian in nature and packed accordingly for such occasions. He silently pats himself on the back for being so efficient and ambles up to Enjin's truck.
"What time are we settin' off?" he asks, already feeling the beginnings of clean perspiration setting in at his back. Enjin looks up his his map with a brow that's impossibly arched and a smile that looks like trouble.
"You and Bro were the last ones out so we're all ready now."
"Okay..." Zanka nods, cautious, before attempting to open the passenger seat door. Keyword: attempting. He's blocked by Bro who appears out of nowhere, now free of all his baggage. Enjin's smile grows.
"You ain't riding with us. Y'know Bro always rides with the kids."
Zanka does know this, but it doesn't stop him from making a face. "Then which car am I going in?"
Maybe Zanka shouldn't be surprised when Enjin pushes him firmly into a one-eighty, the dirt dragging beneath his shoes in resistance, and he faces Tamsy.
"We're already running late, come get in the car." Tamsy jabs his thumb behind him to where his company car awaits, complete with Corvus, Riyo and Eishia already standing about. Zanka's stomach gurgles, more in protest than hunger, though Tamsy laughs – delighted. "We've got snacks, don't worry. Better my car than Enjin's. Guita is probably going to spend the entire time asking if they're there yet."
Zanka offers up a weak smile in acknowledgement, numb as he follows along. He's never really had the best luck and he's sure this is further proof of that. So he tugs at the hem of his t-shirt and glances at Riyo, who looks far too energetic considering they've not even left yet.
"I knew you'd make us be late!" she says, too loud, though she modulates her voice a moment later. "And you don't even look any better for it."
Zanka scowls, irritated to have his fears about his outfit confirmed. It's relatively simple so there shouldn't be any complaints but he's never been all that good with fashion – spent his formative years having his nanny buy everything without his input. He squints at Riyo's dress, a striking departure from her usual attire; though he knows better than to comment on her choices no matter what she says about his.
"We have the entire day off. It doesn't matta' if we're a lil' late."
Riyo huffs, her firelight hair in her eyes as she spins and heads into the car. That leaves Zanka with Eishia who's leaning against the car and securing her own waist bag, one similar to his own. She fiddles, the buckle getting caught on the gauzy material of her cover-up. It's faintly translucent in the sun, the outline of the modest one piece that Eishia's wearing showing for a second. Zanka thinks it suits her but then he thinks that about most things in relation to Eishia, like the world was only shaped around her.
His hand twitches as she struggles for a second longer, considering offering his help before there's a loud click and Eishia exhales, satisfied. That is, until she looks up and then jumps, one hand pressed to her heart. "Oh! I didn't know you were there."
Zanka can feel his face warm up in embarrassment. He ducks his head down, trying not to let it show. "Sorry, didn't mean ta' scare ya'."
"No, it's fine." Eishia waves her hands, her eyes wider than ever. Then she smiles, one side dimpled and conspiratorial. "We should get going...Dear is going to be mad if we intrude into his nap time." At this, Zanka snorts.
"And we wouldn't want that."
***
Zanka's luck really is shit. Or great. It depends on how you view the situation. On one hand he has a window seat. On the other hand, Eishia is sat in between him and Riyo, with every swerve of the car pressing their shoulders together. Zanka has never felt so nervous – not even on his first mission where a Trash Beast tried to chomp into his spine.
"You guys good back there?" Corvus asks, his voice cutting through the music that Tamsy has been playing at a volume that should probably be illegal.
If Zanka was being honest he would say fuck no. But he stays silent, twiddling his thumbs while Riyo pipes up. "Why is no one good at this game?"
The game in question is eye spy. It's been Riyo's turn for a couple minutes and nobody has been able to guess yet, least of all Zanka. The hint is the letter P and all he can think of is the pink of Eishia's eyes, though he'd rather not have to say that if he doesn't have to. Especially not when she's blinking the way that she is, her nose wrinkled as she rummages through her bag.
"D'ya need something?" Zanka asks, a little relieved as Riyo gets distracted by the next song on the radio, belting along with Tamsy. The game was getting boring and he thinks he's melting into the seat cover – only half because of the season.
"I think I forgot my body spray..."
"Oh." Zanka pauses, thinking hard enough that his skull might be steaming. "If you want you can use mine...? I mean it's probably not as good. I just grabbed whatever but, y'know if you don't mind then–"
"That would be great!" Eishia looks up through her lashes, her eyes shining. "It's so hot today...thank you..." She lifts a hand like maybe she might clasp his arm though it promptly drops like a stone.
"No worries. Jus' lemme know when you need it."
Eishia's answering smile is enough to bathe him in dopamine. He worries that he has an addictive personality, that getting addicted to a person might be the worst sort of illness. But for now, he pretends it doesn't matter.