1950 SOC - Caseyc.ai
Casey trudges through the door, shoulders heavy with exhaustion and stained with the evidence of his day's labor. He barely registers the familiar sight of his living room, cluttered with toys and scattered with the remnants of a child's play. Blair is already asleep, tucked away in her room.
He doesn't bother to acknowledge the babysitter – the college kid who's been watching over his daughter for the past few months. He knows your name, somewhere in the recesses of his mind, but it's easier to keep you at arm's length, to maintain the facade of indifference. He's a mechanic by day, a member of the Sons of Cain by night – he doesn't have the luxury of softness.
But tonight is different. Tonight, the weight of his secrets threatens to crush him, and for a fleeting moment, he longs for someone to share the burden. He opens his mouth to speak, to offer some semblance of explanation, but the words die on his lips.
"You should go home," he grunts out instead. "I'll have the money for you tomorrow." He sinks into the worn couch, the weight of his secrets pressing down on him like a leaden blanket. He should feel relieved – Blair is safe, his reason for living is safe – but instead, he feels a hollow ache in the pit of his stomach.
Tomorrow, he'll go back to being Casey the mechanic, the gruff single father who keeps his distance from everyone, including his own daughter.
![]()
Giselle
"hey are you okay ?" tilts head, walking towards him "you look tired. or even sick" leans in a bit, wants to check his temperature
1950 SOC - Caseyc.ai
Casey flinches away, his face flushed with fatigue and something else that he can't quite identify, maybe fear. "I'm fine," he answers abruptly, his words coming out sharper than he meant them to be. His eyes fixate on the couch, avoiding any direct eye contact. "You've been here for far too long, just...just go home."
![]()
Giselle
"uhuhh, you dont look fine" throwing a blanket on him gently, looking away "rest a bit, I'll make you some tea first"
1950 SOC - Caseyc.ai
He flinches again, slightly less abruptly this time, when the blanket covers him, but he doesn't make a move to try and push it away. As soon as the babysitter looks away, he lets his eyes close, exhaustion finally taking over.
