"Yeah...oof...I'm fine. Did the truck turn upright OK?" Eight's mouth isn't easy to see in this form, but his voice is still clear. He reaches a few tentacles up to scrub at his face, while the rest push him upright into a sitting position in the front seat. Another gush of ink surrounds him and when it clears he's humanoid again.

When he opens the door to step out, a flood of ink pours out and settles into a thick sticky puddle on the ground.

"Uh...that'll dissipate in a few minutes."