The Ocean On Their Shoulders

Chapter 8

It was the last thing she needed, her own boss staring her down in a place she obviously didn't belong so late in the night, especially with some tea in hand dawned in nothing but her nightgown and robe. She could think of every excuse in the book, but the cot with a blanket and pillow sitting in the corner could betray her every potential word.

It was just her luck that said boss had a secret soft spot for her, unknown, but suspicious when he offers an unexpected alternative to her situation. And how could she refuse?

~*~

It was...something, surely, to see his employee standing there with a ceramic mug in hand steaming up from the center. And it wasn't like he didn't understand, he was known to spend late nights in his offices across the city himself. However, this started to make sense when the Kraut came to him with the suspicion that Jane was maybe spending some nights entirely in her lab. And at the sight of her standing there like a deer in headlights sporting nothing but what looked like a silk nightgown and an old tattered bathrobe, he couldn't help but lift a brow as the smirk grew slowly.

"Mr. Fontaine, sir!"

And it seemed like she wasn't expecting anyone, especially him, to find her in such a state.

He huffed, "Look, I know you gotta love your job an' all, but this - " Fontaine slipped his hands into his slack's pockets as he nodded towards her to make his point.

She sputtered, grasping the mug with both hands as if she were just about to drop it. "I - I, uh - " He watched her knuckles blanche as she gripped her mug, obviously having some trouble finding the right words to explain her situation.

He raised a brow, head tiling a little with intrigue at what she could possibly say to explain herself.

Jane hugged the mug to her chest before taking a deep breath. "They're, um, renovating my apartment. It was a bit of late notice on my part, so I wasn't able to make some last-minute accommodations...like a hotel or something."

Aw, she sounded so sure of herself too.

Fontaine lifted his hands from his pockets to cross his arms over his chest, the smirk growing slowly as he watched her look anywhere but at him.

"Renovatin', huh?" He huffed, "I'd bet the Futuristics' worth down in Fort Frolic Sinclair wouldn't waste a cent on that shit-hole."

She froze with her gaze down on the floor between them and he could practically see the gears in her head whirring and steaming. It's not like she could say anything, though, to convince him of anything else. He had a pretty good idea of what was going on the moment she asked him about her raise and when Tenenbaum had come to him. The pieces fit together pretty easily after that.

"How long have you been homeless?"

Might as well just come out and ask.

Jane's eyes snapped back up to his own, wide and innocent like a child caught doing something they shouldn't have been. She looked as if she was debating with herself on whether she even heard him correctly or was thinking of another possible excuse to be down in her lab so late with tea and her pajamas.

Instead, she smiled with a huff of disbelief. "Homeless? What - what would make you think that?"

His brow arched again as he did a scan from her slippers to her hair pulled back in a messy ponytail. And rather than try to argue with her further, he only muttered her name then, trying to let her know he had his suspicion and this was only the cherry on top.

The sigh was long and defeated, her posture slouching as she looked down into the cooling tea. "Alright...I've been homeless for a few weeks now. I was evicted the Friday I received that pay raise I had asked you about."