♠ 𝕂𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕕𝕠𝕞 𝕆𝕗 𝕊𝕡𝕒𝕕𝕖𝕤 ♠

Cₕₐₚₜₑᵣ ₜₕᵣₑₑ: ᵢ'ₘ ᵢₙ ₜᵣₒᵤbₗₑ ₙₒw

" What the FUCK, Pigeon? You're almost four hours late and expect me to forgive that kind of bullshit when we're already running on a short schedule?" Quackity yelled, very frustrated with his own daughter.

"I'm so sorry, sir, I won;t let it happen again. I pr-"

Quackity rolled his eyes in anger. " You say this every fucking time, and every time you don't change! Does writing pointless shit you call music or hanging out with a fucking rabies infested rodent mean more to you than having a fucking job, let alone a job? We have a legacy to uphold. A legacy. Does that mean anything to you?"

" Please, Qua-"

" Does it?"

Silence fell between the two for a long moment. Quackity looked at Pigeon's messy, mismatched outfit.

"You're just like your scumbag father," he said, before walking down the hallway and back to the casino.

Confusion filled Pigeon's brain. Wasn't Big Q her only father? Did Big Q really just put himself down? Did the man who built a whole desert casino city from a snowy mountain biome just call himself scum?

There's no way he just said such a thing about himself, Pigeon thought. He has so much damn pride and he just called himself scum?

I thought I'd never live to see this day.

————————————————————————————

It was 11:45 PM, and Pigeon was majorly pissed.

One of the previous hotel guests pulled the mattress off of their bed, ripped the shower curtains, and stole the bedside lamp. It wasn't one of the worst cases Pigeon had seen, but it was certainly in the top few.

What am I supposed to tell Big Q? Was this guest drunk, or were they-

Pigeon's thoughts were interrupted by the guest re-entering their room, despite the barricade of cleaning supplies Pigeon had created to prevent them from doing that very thing while she was cleaning. They were tall, about 6'3", their brown hair with a white streak in it greasy and untidy, their shirt, pants, jacket, and shoes scratched up, their face full of exhaustion. It was as though this person was either beat up very badly or they had spent their day working in the ruthless sun.

"Who the fuck are you?" the stranger asked, leaning against the door frame.

Pigeon, who was attempting to mop the floors, let her gaze fixate on this person's clothing. "May I first ask what the hell you were doing for you to look this dirty and sweaty?"

"None of your damn business, little girl." The stranger was clearly not in the mood for Pigeon's questions. They seemingly wanted sleep and nothing else. "Name. Now."

"What are you gonna do if I don't tell you? Beat me up?" Pigeon smirked. "We both know you're not in the mood nor condition to fight me. You need a shower, some sleep, and a home cooked meal, my friend."

"I'd take those things anytime. But I can't. I shouldn't be here. I- I can't be caught here." The stranger looked frantically around the room, then speeding past Pigeon, where they started to collect their things into a bag.

"Hold your horses. I swear to fucking god, you're getting nowhere anytime soon. There's a thunderstorm coming and- look at yourself! Look around! You're not going anywhere if I have a say so, mister let's-rip-the-damn-shower-curtains-and-expect-housekeeping-to-replace-them. You're gonna get some goddamn rest and wash up. You're safe here." Pigeon tried to reassure the guest, as she wanted them to feel better. Her people pleasing skills were starting to take over.

"You're so innocent, and I hate to break your bubble, but I'd much rather be in that thunderstorm than here. Besides I'm not all-" the stranger tried to state something again, still frantic.

"I want to hear less complaining and more of you taking care of yourself, you hear?" Pigeon said, her nice mood slowly turning a bit rotten by the second.

"Fine, fine. But can I ask you something?"

"Hm?"

"Where are your parents, child?"