Room 408, Saturday Morning

[apocalipped]

The dance? Had been nice. Nice in that sort of, 'I am here, I am not being particularly social, but I have a lovely date and I'm going to enjoy this, damn it,' kind of way that Jono was so good at. But that much social interaction was tiring, to say the least, and so he was absolutely planning on spending his Saturday in bed. And it would be great, and to hell with anything in the world that thought that he was going to be getting up, at least until late afternoon.

It was possible that Jonothon was slightly delusional, yes.

[For wee ones, roomies, whatever!]

Comments

[furnaceface]

//Erm...//

Well. At least she was knocking? Though there was that little nagging feeling in the back of his skull that had Jono wondering if he wanted to answer the door at all.

That said, the voice on the other side of the door sounded young, if somewhat jaded. Jono gave George a glance. And then the door? Another glance. And then he sighed as best as he could before making his way over to open the door.

//Er... hello, luv?//

[lepetitemortals.livejournal.com]

"That's it?" Vedder asked. "'Hello'? Like I'm a door-to-door salesman. Thanks, Dad."

She was going to sail past him and flop down on the foot of her mom's bed. Mom looked like hell, but she had coffee, so she might be up to full sentences within the hour.

"Is this that school you went to?"

She hadn't been the only freak of nature in that sea of tortured humanity that had headed, lemming-like, towards these dorms. Schools in Seattle were more normal.

[onapalebicycle.livejournal.com]

George had coffee. And now there was another dark-haired little girl in the room, so apparently Jono had been busy. Except there was a very bad feeling in the pit of her stomach. One she couldn't quite place.

"... The fuck are you?" she asked. Forgetting not to swear in front of kids. Because something told her this was bad. Very, very bad.

[furnaceface]

//She'd be mine,// Jono said, putting up a hand as he kind of followed her into the room. //I think.//

Poor, poor Vedder. Your father probably questioned whether or not you were really his all the time, didn't he?

[lepetitemortals.livejournal.com]

All. The. Time.

In response to that, Vedder gave her usual reply. Which was, to purse her lips together and blow one perfect smoke ring.

Thus rendering a paternity test unnecessary.

"Are we really going to do this again?" she asked, sounding bored. "You insist I'm not yours, and I point out my lungs are on fire. Then she says she can't have me anyway, because she's dead, and I say that's great, but I'm here. And then Rube lectures her about not using protection, and she says that she's dead and this can't be happening, and when she starts freaking out again, that's when Mason says he's taking me out for ice cream. Which usually means he buys me a cone as a bribe so I'll play look-out while he deals crack in the alley."

Vedder did not have a normal childhood. In other news, water was kind of damp.

[furnaceface]

Jono needed a moment to absorb all of that.

And then a moment more, to level George with a look.

//Crack in the alley?//

Lord, he was a terrible father.

[onapalebicycle.livejournal.com]

And still a better parent than George.

"No," she said. "No, no, no, no, no. It's not even fucking possible. And you said this was a warning and we haven't -- I mean. That doesn't even make sense, to give out egg assignments on people who aren't even doing that, and this is not happening."

[furnaceface]

Poor, poor Vedder.

//It's only for a few days,// Jono replied, waving a hand a little. //If yer as worried about her as you were about Joni, I'll even take it upon myself to feed th'gel, George.//

Poor George, for that matter.

//She's kind of endearing, I think. In a way.//

A kind of... messed-up, disturbing sort of way. He found himself wanting to feed her pancakes.

[lepetitemortals.livejournal.com]

"I hate when you talk about me like I'm not here," Vedder huffed. "Rube does that a lot, too. Mom, the denial thing got old when I was, like, four. And I'm not a pet. I'm capable of feeding myself."

If you let Mason babysit for you, you were teaching your child a great deal about self-sufficiency from the get-go. And, say, if you had the nurturing, parental skills that only a dead girl and a guy on fire could really bring to the table.

"If you don't like Mason dealing, I'll call the cops on him next time," she said, "but only if I get twenty bucks."

It was a fair trade for possible future missed ice cream cones. And the shit she'd get from Mason, whining about being strip-searched again.

[onapalebicycle.livejournal.com]

"I'm not bribing you to turn in Mason," George decided. Because that was teaching the kid all kinds of screwed-up ethics, and she didn't have twenty bucks, and she didn't ... honestly ... care that much if Mason dealt crack in the alley, in or of itself. It was more the using her kid as lookout.

Her kid. This girl was her kid.

... The attitude should have been a giveaway, right there. And, really, George needed a moment to be pleased that her kid hadn't been some sort of frou-frou Barbie type who'd spent too much time with Daisy.

"Okay," she said. "Mom and Dad are being extra-stupid today. Like usual. I'll give you ten bucks if you give us your full name and don't give us any grief about not knowing it, right now."

Should she explain the timeline thing? Fuck it. She decided, instead, to try, "We got hit on the head. So that's why we're extra-stupid."

Mother of the year.

[furnaceface]

//Hit on the head. Yes.//

Jono was going to forego the dirty look in George's direction in favour of lifting a hand, rubbing the top of his noggin, and letting loose with a small stream of What the hell, George, that was on a private psionic channel between just himself and Mom, here.

//Yer mother was hit repeatedly,// he added, helpfully.

[onapalebicycle.livejournal.com]

George didn't have any psychic threads, and didn't know if Jono could hear her if she thought loudly enough. Instead, she hissed "I didn't hear any suggestions from you," in a low voice.

One Vedder could probably hear.

Shut up.

[lepetitemortals.livejournal.com]

The dark-haired girl held up one hand, and began ticking off fingers.

"Vedder. Regina. Gayle. Starsmore." And that came with a nod at Jono, naturally, and a matching nod back at George for "Lass."

She shrugged. "I want my ten bucks."

And she wanted to know what the hell was going on, and why her parents were being especially crazy today, and where this school was, but the condition had been "no grief," and that might count as grief. So she'd wait until she'd pocketed her money to pursue it further.

[furnaceface]

//... We named her Vedder,// Jono informed George, somewhat bemused.

They were clearly the most awesome terrible parents ever.

//And one of her middle names is my first girlfriend, who tried to have me eaten by a cannibal,// he added. Again, just to George, because he assumed that this was one of those things that you just don't share with a small child.

Again, more openly, he added, //You heard th'lady, George. Pay up.//

[onapalebicycle.livejournal.com]

"Fine, fine," George grumbled, getting out of bed. "You know, you --"

Wait. Could she do the thinky thing? Did it go the other way if you tried really, really hard, or did that only work if you were telepathic or telekinetic or telewhichever the term was?

She closed her eyes and focused and thought really, really hard in Jono's direction.

//HEY. JONO? ARE YOU GETTING THIS? AM I DOING IT RIGHT? OR IS SHE GOING TO GET THIS, TOO?//

It was probably stupid. The one consolation was that if neither of them got it, then neither of them would know she was even trying it, and she'd feel less like a complete moron.

[furnaceface]

//Gordon Bennet!//

That would be a yes, George. Yes, Jono could hear your thoughts if you directed them his way. Especially if you went and screamed them at him at about ten thousand psionic decibels.

//Yes! I bloody well heard that! And possibly every other telepath on th'bloody island, at that rate!//

So, really, mileage might vary. Was Vedder a telepath, too?

[lepetitemortals.livejournal.com]

"Ow," Vedder announced, glaring at one, than the other, of them. "Who did that, and what did you do?"

Something like an icepick had slammed into her head, and then disappeared again. Shortest migraine ever. Knowing her parents, one of them was responsible.

[onapalebicycle.livejournal.com]

"I didn't know!" George said. "I'm not all psychic! You can't just get talky if I can't talk back!"

Therefore, this totally wasn't her fault.

"Who the fuck is Gordon Bennet, anyway!?"

They were wonderful parents. No wonder Vedder was so well-adjusted.

[furnaceface]

//Nobody,// Jono groused, rubbing at the side of his head as if that was actually going to do him any good. //It's one of many fun and exciting words and phrases that can be put to use instead of th'word fook.//

Shut up. He's so fake Marvel cockney it hurts. He can say fook if he wants to.

[lepetitemortals.livejournal.com]

"Sometimes I think you're extra-British on purpose," Vedder said. "Just so people will be sodding impressed. Why can't I have grown up in England? The accents are better."

[onapalebicycle.livejournal.com]

"Because I'm assigned to the Seattle division of External Influences," George said, "and England has crappy food."

Sorry, Jono. She couldn't insult the weather. She lived in Seattle. It seemed the first thing she could grab.

She was going to try focusing very carefully again, and enunciating. The thinking equivalent of enunciating.

//Regina. Is. My. Sister's. Name.//

Which he might remember, but it deserved a mention, anyway.

[furnaceface]

Jono did remember, vaguely, but he appreciated that George was willing to clarify, that way.

Especially with her volume turned down, like that. That part was much more appreciated.

He nodded a little, and then shrugged.

//I can't deny that,// he said, finally. //Not that it has any effect on me, really.//

Whether he was talking about the food, or the being extra-British on purpose, the world would never know.