Ink was thinking. It'd been a long day for him, running about, fighting Error, helping Dream, all that whatnot. Blue, after a particularly harsh fight, had asked Ink an odd question; "How do you know how much HP you have, if you don't have a soul?" It had been out of honest curiosity and worry, but the question had given birth to more, all of them revolving around his soullessness.
Most of them, hell, all of them had clear answers, some of them so clear that he might've felt dumb(or the echoes of such a feeling) for wondering about it.
Ink wasn't blind to his quirks. He knew he was a strange being, there was no need for emotions to know this. He was aware of his tendency to manipulate and fake his way through life. It didn't need to be pointed out. What he didn't know was how it would turn out-- for him and his 'friends'. If he were honest,(with himself) they weren't really his friends. He didn't even know what that word meant in the sense of feelings. Was it an attachment? A willing alliance? He didn't understand the sentiments behind the emotion called friendship. Was it an emotion? Dream made it out to be one, so that's what Ink was calling it.
Even if it wasn't, Ink only knew echoes of emotions. He didn't know what friendship would feel like. Dream had once mentioned that they were as close as friends could get, but Ink didn't get it. He wondered if Dream knew that Ink only hung around with him for that aura of his. It would be ridiculous if he didn't, considering how often he questioned his relations with others. That was something else Ink didn't understand. That lack of self-worth, that doubt, that came from his past. Dream told Ink a long time ago what his backstory was, and it had given Ink some insight to how the positive guardian worked. Back when Dream was young, there'd been a village near his home, with villagers that loved him for his aura and his job, not as a person.
Ink, in some ways, was doing the same. He just didn't love Dream. He felt nothing for him. In that fake way of his, Ink only liked the aura that surrounded Dream like a cloud. It gave him a similar effect comparable to his paints, yet the feeling was so different. Almost real.
He wondered what would happen if he flat out told them, anyone Ink outwardly called friend, that they were being used for his gain. Blue for his ability to quickly diffuse situations, Dream for his aura and empath powers, the Creators for the paint. It was a pretty short list, now that he was thinking about it. Blue, Dream, and the Creators, and no one else.
Some part of him, logical and somewhat sensitive, knew that this was a good thing. Fewer people meant fewer casualties, and that's good enough for him. Who cares if it completely ruins their 'relationships', there never really was one in the first place, and Ink definitely wouldn't care outside of the loss of their skillsets.
Ink nodded to himself, paying no mind to the stares of his friends. Now, now, he has it figured out. He just needed to write it down somewhere.