You arrive home in record time, a bag filled with books floating behind you, hooked onto a tentacle that’s mostly intangible and invisible except for the distortions it leaves in the air. A few mortals stare, but they have floaty things too so it can’t be too weird.

Anyway, Abigail doesn’t make a fuss, so it’s all good.

“It’s good to be back,” Abigail says as she unlocks the door and steps into her... your home. It’s just as you left it, some rooms bigger than others and the dimensions just a little bit weird. You can tell that physics has been trying to make sense of things but, as usual, failed miserably.

Anything with such strict rules is bound to fail when things don’t go as it wants. You shake your head at the silliness of physics and put Abigail’s books on two corners of the dining room table at the same time.

“Now we go to bed?” you ask.

Abigail shakes her head and bends over closer to you. She sniffs at you.

You don’t know what this means.

“Nope, no bed time for you. You need a bath first.”

“But I wanna go nap,” you protest. But Abigail decides to become Evil Abigail, the Evil tyrant of Evilness and pulls you after her towards the bathroom. Soon she’s making you take off your dress while water runs in the bath. It goes way, way down into the bottomless pit of the tub for a moment before Abigail blinks at you. You roll your eyes, a new gesture that you’ve seen Abigail use a few times already, and make the bath return to how it was before you made it better.

Then you climb into the water and plop yourself down. “Is this enough?” you ask Abigail.

She sighs and shakes her head before giving you a bar of something that smells like flowers and a glass decanter filled with purple-ish liquid.

“That’s soap and shampoo,” Abigail explains.

You put the bar in your mouth and start chewing. It tastes like it smells, flowery and clean, but it’s all gunky and when you try to ask Abigail for another bar, bubbles come out of your mouth.

Abigail swipes the shampoo out of your hand before you can start drinking it and places it next to the bathtub. “You know what, I’ll help you.”

Abigail gets undressed too and moves behind you in the bath. Soon she uses a second bar of soap to scrub you down. It’s like getting pats, but with more rubbing and bubbles. Then she puts some of the shampoo on your head and rubs it in. It’s really nice until some of it gets into your eyes.

“Ahh!” you scream as it burns.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Abigail says. “Put some water in your eyes,” she says from right behind you.

You reach up and pluck your eyes out, then wiggle them under the water.

When you push them back into your face and turn to see Abigail, she stares at you with her mouth opened and her face very pale. Maybe the hot water isn’t for her.

Abigail soon shoos you out of the bath and makes sure you’re wrapped in a big towel before telling you to go wait in your room.

You shrug and do as she asks while she finishes her own bath. Bathtime was okay, you decide.

You find a big shirt for sleeping in, like you had at Daphne’s place, and slip into it, then you wiggle your head as fast as you can to get the water out. Your hair-tentacles... hairtacles, don’t wick off water as well as your normal tentacles.

Abigail returns and finds a nightgown of her own to put on, then sits on the edge of the bed with a big comb.

You hop in behind her and are about to drag her under the blankets with a whole bunch of tentacuddlers when you see what she’s doing. Her comb dips into her wet hair, then pulls it down.

“Abigail!” you say.

“Hrm?”

“Your hairtacles have knots in them!” you say. You’ve gotten some tentacles tied together before. It’s awful and painful and very bad. So, seeing as you’re obviously the more experienced of the two, you take away Abigail’s comb and start brush-brushing her hair.

You lose yourself in the motions, comb moving down her back and flattening her hairtacles only for it to bounce back into Abigai’s normal curls. Soon, thanks to your incredible expertise, there are no knots and Abigail’s hairtacles are saved!

“Now it’s nap time?” you ask.

Abigail chuckles and turns around, one arm wrapping around your waist before she drags you down and squeezes you close. “Yup!” she says.

You make a happy sound and bring the blankets over the two of you for extra cocooning. “Okay. Good night Abigail.”

“Good night, Dreamer.”

You wrap Abigail in even more tentacuddlers, not enough that you squish her until it hurts or stops her from working, but still very tight, then you tuck your head against the crook between her collar and neck and snuggle in as much as you can.

Abigail makes a happy sound too and wiggles her arms until you loosen them from your grasp. She brings them up and over your back and pulls you even closer in a tight-tight hug. “Thanks, Dreamer,” she says.

“Yes,” you say. You should be thanked for giving such good cuddles. “Now sleep. Tomorrow we do the Academy stuff to make you happy.”

She giggles and the breath coming out of her mouth tickles. “Okay. I’m looking forward to it. Sleep tight, Dreamer.”

The last sound you hear before you start dreaming is a happy sound Abigail makes as you squeeze her just a tiny bit closer.