If Eight hadn't been otherwise occupied with the truck and the flood of ink he left in it, he might have caught a strange look in An Zhe's eye.

Instead, he hops out of the truck, leaning against it with one hand to pull off his shoe, revealing an ink-soaked sock. He hooks the shoe on one of his fingers, pulls that off to squeeze out the ink a bit, and then puts them both back on.

"I don't know all the mechanics but microbes in the air consume it. It's really helpful for clean up after a Turf War."