Summary: Personally inconveniencing-

After a long day's work, Dream enjoyed the simplicity and peace of taking a quiet moment to sit in his office. However, the yellow-clad skeleton knew he had jinxed himself by enjoying the moment for far too long when the door to his office slammed open. With a huff, he straightened himself in his chair and regarded the familiar intruder with weary eyelights.

"Dream, I've decided!" Ink loudly proclaimed, striking a dramatic pose in the guardian's doorway. "I'm going chase my new life goal - that I decided on five minutes ago after seeing a really sparkly suit - to become a PI!"

"You're already a purposeful instigator, Ink." He blandly commented.

"No, not that kind of PI!"

Dream raised a brow, amending, "A petty invader?"

"Nope."

"A periodical irritant-"

"Of course not! Stars, you are bad at this guessing thing- I'm going to be a private investigator!" Ink frowned, furrowing his brows as he pondered, "Or was it a plastic inspector?"

A heavy sigh weaved its way past Dream's jaws as he cheerlessly inquired, "And what exactly do you intend to investigate?"

"Uhhhh- I didn't get that far in my plan." The soulless skeleton paused, taking a minute to - one could only pray - think before he clapped his hands together and announced, "Oh! How about you cheat on Cross so he can hire me to investigate you!"

If Ink noticed the sheer plummet in Dream's expression, he didn't indicate so in the slightest. Not even with a hint of remorse.

"Cross and I are not dating, and I'm not doing that! You should know better than to ask that of someone." The Guardian of Positivity chided.

Ink shrugged off his firm, scolding tone and gave a smile that was undoubtedly foreshadowing things to come. Things that would likely end with Dream swatting the other with a broom. Perhaps even Broomie for that extra sting of betrayal.

"We'll see!" The artist ominously said, running off to who knew where to do who knew what. However, the yellow-clad skeleton had a sneaking suspicion he knew precisely what his fellow Star Sans had planned.

"Ugh..." He groaned and slumped back in his seat, taking a moment to mourn the loss of his quiet evening. Then, retrieved his phone and dialed the third number amongst his contacts, a call which the recipient speedily answered.

"Hello?"

"Good evening, Cross. If you see Ink, spray him with the water bottle."