Marshmallow had learned to hate the cold.

Oh, before Season 2, she could've lived with it. She still remembered the awe she'd felt, seeing the island covered in snow for the first time. MePhone didn't have the budget to give anyone blankets back then, but she and Paintbrush and... someone else made do, huddling around a fire when it got chilly at night. Even when Marsh inevitably got sick, Paintbrush took care of her, more rough-edges than softness, but with a warm center.

But nowadays, seeing the snow and the Christmas gaiety just reminded her of the one person she didn't want to think about. Laying in the snow reminded her of the fact that MePhone certainly had the budget to give them blankets, now. In fact, all he had to do was relinquish his rule mandating that contestants couldn't go near the hotel. He chose not to, and Marsh hated that, hated it almost as much as she hated that she still got sick easily, even though she slept closer to Lightbulb's warm glow than anyone.

When Marsh heard MePhone's voice, she glared in his direction.

"Man, it's freezing out here! It's pretty suite that we have our own heated suite, huh?"

Coming from a guy who had electricity coursing through his veins, it was weak. Marsh wished he'd fall in a puddle already- though then the challenge would probably be repairing him again.

"While I appreciate the pun, sir, the coldest night of the year is rapidly approaching. There could be disastrous impacts on contestant health."

"Psh. Even if they die, I can just regenerate them."

"It would be more humane if we offered them shelter for the night," MePad continued. "The winds from the blizzard may blow them out of the range of recovery. No contestants means no ratings, sir."

MePhone startled. "Good point, MePad... I'll go speak to OJ. Go find the contestants."

⁂⁂⁂

Such is the story of the contestants' impromptu trip to Hotel OJ. Stepping inside, getting a faceful of heat and the smell of dinner, Marsh could feel herself perk up.

"Welcome to Hotel OJ, everyone!" OJ slid in front of them. "Feel free to gorge yourself at the buffet table or experience our many amenities, free of charge!"

Marsh sneezed.

"What about sleeping arrangements?" Paintbrush frowned.

"What are there, twelve of you? At the moment, we're doing renovations on the fourth floor. Not all the residents have room-mates yet, so a couple of you will have to room with them - which should be OK?"

"You know who I'm with!" Baseball exclaimed, grinning at Nickel. Suitcase glanced around uncertainly, before Balloon put a hand on her head reassuringly.

Lightbulb tackle-hugged Test Tube, while Soap and Microphone paired off with less physical contact, as they exchanged a glance that screamed 'you, me, sleepover.' Knife was done with OJ's 'six hour speech' before it even began, as he and Pickle walked in the direction of the TV.

Paintbrush wrapped an arm around Marsh, and she was suddenly relieved she wasn't alone. "So that leaves Fan with an old contestant."

OJ hummed, "Aaaaactually, I think it'd be better if you went with Fan."

Paintbrush shot Fan a dirty look. "Oh. Why?"

"Because Marshmallow's sick. It's better that you don't get sick too, with the competition and all. Actually, I have just the thing." OJ walked away, then came back pushing... something. Someone.

'Oh dear God, no.'

"An apple a day keeps the doctor away. Marshmallow here needs a place to recover from her cold. You do the math." He paused for a second, then added, "Actually, don't. She's with you and Box."

"Ahaha- yeah, no," Paintbrush interjected. "Did you even hear about what happened?"

"They're like friends now, or whatever."

"That's clearly not the case. She-"

"Hold that thought- I have thirteen more people than usual to feed last-minute — I need to be in the kitchen. So just deal, please?"

"Do you want the hotel to burn down?"

OJ sighed. "Can you stop holding the Christmas challenge against me already?"

Paintbrush sputtered, "This has nothing to do with that!"

"Yeah, well, I don't see Marsh complaining." Marsh briefly looked at OJ, in between ignoring Apple's stare. Before Marsh could decide whether to speak up, OJ went on, "So yeah, if you guys have a problem, do me a favor and work it out without breaking the fires-in-the-hotel rule. Cool?" He punctuated the question with a thumbs-up, but when something shattered the next room over, he ran out without waiting for a response.

Paintbrush immediately picked Apple up by the stem. "You aren't going to bother her, got it?"

"W-wha-"

"No, I'm serious. If you lay a finger on her, or so much as look at her the wrong way, I will show you what it's like to be on the receiving end of breaking the no-fires-in-the-hotel rule." Were their bristles smoking? "You got that straight?"

"What does straight mean?" Apple replied.

Marsh sneezed. "Paintbrush, I can take care of myself."

Paintbrush looked at her with kind eyes. "Do you want me to bring you dinner?"

Marsh briefly weighed her desire to be independent against how drained she felt, then replied, "Sounds good."

"Right. You tell me if there's a problem," they said, giving her shoulder a terse squeeze. Marsh gave them a tiny nod before they strode away.

'Only if I don't solve it myself,' Marsh mentally added, then realized that doing this at all required her to speak to Apple. Easier said than done. '...Nice going, Marshmallow.'

'I'm over it, I'm over it,' Marsh thought, then said, as nonchalantly as she could handle, "Is your room still 206?"

"Nah, they changed it.."

"Real shame. We've had good memories in 206. When you burned me alive, at least I knew what I was getting, right?"

Apple flinched. Marsh did, too. So much for sounding like she was over it.

"It's not 206 anymore. I'll show you, though."

"Whatever helps you sleep at night."

Apple didn't look like she'd been getting much of that lately, come to think of it.. Or maybe that was a figment of Marsh's imagination.

It only occurred to her later on that Apple didn't have to come along, because she could've just told her what door it was. Unlike most of the other contestants', Apple's door was always unlocked. She was way too hard on her things, and lost track of them too easily, to possibly keep a key on her. Just another dimension of the mind game, she supposed.

Walking into the room, at least it was obvious whose bed was whose. The one closer to the door was unmade, but had a surprising amount of personal touches made to it: a few drawings were haphazardly hung on the wall, and a large pillow sat upright on her bed.

The other bed, closer to the window, was perfectly made, and Box was sitting on it.

"We have company for tonight, buddy," Apple told Box with a slight smile. There was a soft "thwump" as Box fell on his side. She sounded tired as she added, "You take my bed, I'll take the floor, 'kay, Marsh?"

"Fine by me."

"I'll get ya some medicine. That'll cheer you up."

Marsh glared at her until the door clicked shut. The second Apple left, Marsh heaved a great sigh.

'This is going to be a long night.'

Marsh settled in under the blankets. Despite the coziness, she felt deep discomfort, though it was hard to say whether it was Apple or the words that sat unsaid in her heart.

Too soon for Marsh to doze off, the door got roughly opened. Paintbrush came in with a tray that they dropped on Marsh's lap.

If there was one thing Marsh could appreciate, it was the fact that the tray was very meticulously put together... even if the food was a bit savory for her taste. She would've really preferred a candy bar to this stuff, but beggars couldn't be choosers.

"If she bothers you, I'll show her who to mess with," Paintbrush had promised as they left.

Apple showed up sometime later, a cup of apple sauce and some pink medicine in hand. "It should make you sleepy."

"If you didn't poison it."

"I never even heard of that flavor. I think it's cherry."

Marsh glared judgmentally at the applesauce, but gave no further comment as she choked everything down and handed the empty containers to Apple.

"I hope that makes ya feel better. It's really nice seeing you again. I-"

Marsh rolled over.

"Oh, goodnight." Apple's voice cracked.

⁂⁂⁂

It wasn't the howling wind or the rattling window that woke Marsh, but it was the first thing she noticed when she did. Snow billowed past the window, dense like a sheet. Marsh's whole body shivered at the thought of being out there; honestly, she had to give MePad credit for being a decent guy.

The second thing she noticed was that her cold symptoms were gone.

The third thing was that the whole room was turned upside-down. Box was nowhere to be seen, yet his bed was stripped. Piled on top of Marsh were more than half a dozen blankets: two layers of sheets, three gigantic comforters, a raggedy green blanket, a fitted sheet, even what looked like a table-cloth, with a thick quilt on top. Five pillows and a couch cushion were also piled carelessly on her bed. A creepy plush rabbit's button-eyes gaze bored into her from the foot of the bed; Marsh stared at it for a second before turning it on its stomach.

'This is a harebrained scheme if I ever saw one. Trying to strangle me with blankets... really wasn't your best idea. ...Wait, where is she?'

After a few seconds of trying to convince herself she didn't care, she fought the blankets for freedom, taking one around herself like a cloak. When she went to open the door, she was surprised when it bumped into something.

There Apple was, sound asleep and hugging a pillow like it was a stuffed animal

'...But WHY?' Marsh thought incredulously. 'What kind of head-game is this? Is she trying to worm her way back in to humiliate me? Am I supposed to look like a jerk? Did Paintbrush make her do this? ...Does she feel bad?'

Apple mumbled in her sleep.

'Some response,' Marsh harrumphed, before dragging her back into the room. After shutting the door, she made a split-second decision and shook Apple's shoulder.

Apple's breathing stuttered, then she blinked awake. "...Marshmallow?"

Her tone was so earnest that it made Marsh's stomach turn. "What's your angle?"

"Wha?"

"Sleeping on the hallway floor and leaving all the blankets to me, I mean. Are you trying to make me look bad?"

"I don't think you'd ever look bad."

"Excuse me?"

"I mean- You clearly don't want me around..."

It was half true. "Can I even believe a word you say?"

Apple mumbled something that sounded like I dunno. "I heard once that you should say what you mean and mean what you say- unless it's mean, in which case all the people you care about will hate you forever, and then you'll never get off the naughty list because you're just a terrible person and- maybe people shouldn't believe people like that."

Apple's earnestness was convincing enough to give Marsh pause.

"...The fight that Bow died in was staged. MePhone wasn't in danger, he just made it seem like it so he'd get more exciting reactions from us. Because life and death are a game to him or something. She... really... didn't have to die. " Marsh gestured. "But the point is, the show makes you believe things that aren't real, and puts pressure on you to do things you shouldn't. ...But right now, we aren't on the show. Just be real with me, please.

"What you said in the mansion... how much of that did you really mean?"

All she could hear for a moment was the fierce wind outside. The disquiet in Marsh only continued to grow as the length of Apple's silence did; she crossed her arms in a fruitless attempt to calm her nerves.

Marsh knew herself; if Apple even acknowledged what happened, and admitted to feeling the slightest bit bad about it, Marsh's grudge would soften like butter left out of the refrigerator for too long. Forgiving a manipulator was stupid and self-destructive, but she missed Apple, almost as bad as she missed Bow. Solitude rotted her insides like plaque wore at teeth; being hurt again was almost preferable to being alone.

But was that desperation the product of Apple's manipulation?

"I meant every word about wanting to find you again," Apple finally said.

Apple wasn't admitting to it. That should've been damning evidence that her heart was as much of a game to Apple as Inanimate Insanity was.

"I'm done trying to get through to you."

"OK." Apple began to sink into the floor, but Marsh grabbed her wrist and squeezed almost hard enough to hurt.

"You're sleeping with me, you dolt. Just keep your hands to yourself."

'You may be a bad person, but I'm not,' Marsh wanted to say, but found she didn't believe even half of it.

Soon enough, Marsh could feel Apple's warmth at her back as Marsh pulled the blankets over both of them. As she shut her eyes, she could hear her heart pound, even over the impossibly loud thoughts in her mind.

She didn't know what was real; even her own heartbeat felt annoyingly fake. She barely even felt alive. Maybe she would've been better off if she wasn't, because at least then she'd be with Bow.

It would take a while for her to finally go back to sleep, and not just because she could just barely hear the sound of Apple whimpering over the billowing snow.

⁂⁂⁂

Something about the whole thing struck Marsh as being weird in a way that she wouldn't put her finger on until much later, long after the snow melted and she returned to the toil of the game.

Suffice it to say, she didn't hate Apple as much as she thought she should've.

Maybe, she'd come to think... maybe it wasn't right to hate Apple to begin with.