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Ryley was having a pretty good day, if he's being honest. Collecting materials had gone well, and he'd found far more than he'd needed - though he gladly took it anyways, if not just to be sure he had some for next time.
The only thing that could make it better was a full swarm of-
He gasps.
Yes, he's a genius.
He's going to hatch his Cuddlefish today.
It's been about the right amount of time, if he recalls correctly, and he did love the little things (rest in peace to Tuna, Ryley internally mourns. That bugger always was adorable, up until he got swallowed by that Leviathan)…
Fuck it.
Ryley opens the hatch and pulls himself inside, heading into the bay and towards his alien containment unit. Big eyes peer through the translucent shell and at him, and the man can barely bite back a coo.
God bless, life in the deep sea would be worth it if he could have a gajillion of these things.
He stares at it. It stares back.
Eventually, he breaks away from the adorable gaze and steps into the unit, adjusting his gloves idly as he stoops down and examines the shell.
If Ryley is being honest, it's been forever since he's had a cuddlefish for a pet, let alone hatched one.
He raps his knuckles against the shell. Nothing. Raps a little harder. Still nothing. Out of sheer frustration, after a few moments of doing increasingly ridiculous actions, he ends up punching it - and the shell cracks, fluid beginning to gush out as the tank fills with water.
Oh hello, precious, Ryley blinks, his eyes watering out of sheer awe as the cuddlefish, still young and impressionable, darts in the water. It glances around for a while, flitting back and forth like it's unsure where to go, until it finally turns to him and hovers.
C'mere, he internally wills. C'mon, fishy fishy, you can do it-
And the cuddlefish tentatively wraps a tentacle around his finger. It's all Ryley can do to not dramatically gasp like a damsel in distress, squeezing the tendril back slightly, so as not to alarm it.
Moments pass, and the cuddlefish gets more and more comfortable, testing the waters (heh, pun intended) as it fidgets with the man's fingers.
Aww, what a baby.
He will, later, adamantly swear that a tear does not drip down his cheek. But, in the moment, all he can think is that this creature, this fish, is now his child, and if anything touches it he will kill everything within these waters and then himself. And also maybe the corporation who sent him here, for allowing him to get so attached to these things.
Maybe it'd like some food? Ryley muses, tilting his head to the side and furrowing his brows. What did he feed Tuna, again? Those biscuit things? He rummages through his pocket until he finds a wafer, shoving his hand out with the treat between his fingers.
Go on, bite. You know you want to.
Sure enough, the cuddlefish swims closer and begins nibbling at it. Ryley swears he can see its tail churning the water even faster, and he smiles idly - damn. Just like a dog after all.
The biscuit - Ryley internally resolves to make far more biscuits, just to witness this again - slowly gets eaten, and the cuddlefish gets more and more comfortable.
Something wails in the distance, and Ryley just rolls his eyes, sighing - although he doesn't miss the chance to drag his gloved fingers down the ribbed spine. Back inside the cuddlefish goes; he doesn't want another of his children to die.
Sure enough, right as both he and the fish are back inside, the windows darken with the mass of an overtly large fish. Ryley, though, isn't surprised; this isn't the first time a fish has narrowly missed his base. Instead, he turns to the tank, and props his chin in his hand.
It really needs a name. He doesn't want to just keep calling it cuddlefish, after all - he's not that lazy.
Instead, he glances around the base until his eyes catch a container, letters bouncing around in his brain and reshaping until finally, finally, he has a name-
Lobster, he grins, pressing his fingers to the tank as he watches said cuddlefish dance in the waters, bug-like eyes empty and yet oh so adorable regardless. Lobster it is.
As he goes to bed that night, Ryley has to admit he feels very accomplished. The new materials had made for very nice tank decor for his baby, after all, and Lobster had happily accepted an, admittedly, plentiful amount of biscuits in exchange for letting Ryley pet it.
He can still feel tentacles wrapped around his wrist as he lugged it around, showing it the area near his base so it never got lost - and although he knows it didn't understand, it was still soothing.
Alright, Lobster, Ryley smiles, shifting in his bed to glance at the tank. To a new day, and good companions.
He swears the cuddlefish winks.