Thorns On My Rose: A Story of the Daughter of Robert Downey Jr. (EDITING)

Chapter 4 - Part 3 - Where Dreams Come True

I didn't know I had fallen asleep until Rob shook me awake. I cracked open an eye, seeing Robert's goofy face before closing my eye shut again. I snuggled back against his shoulder, sighing as I rubbed my cheek against his arm. He laughed but then groaned, gently shaking me again.

I groaned. "What the heck, Creeper?" I asked, sleepy still. He sat me up straight. I forced my eyes open, grimacing at the small amount of light coming through that stupid window.

"Nuh-uh, no, you can't sleep for the whole ride over." He whined, pushing my stray hairs from my face. Apparently, my beanie had fallen leaving an auburn brown mess in it's wake.

"Who says, and where are they so I can beat their ass?" I asked, wiping my eyes.

"Uh, the one that brought you to existence, dear." I looked at him, confused.

"God?" I asked, a bit confused. He smiled but shook his head.

"Well I guess He could be tied for first, but I was talkin' about me." I made an "o" with my lips before raising my eyebrow lazily.

"What do you want?" I asked, not nicely, but I wasn't rude about it either. Which was very considerate of me since he was rude about shaking me outta my damn sleep.

He turned towards me, settling in his seat. He looked down at his watch.

"We have approximately an hour to get to know each before the plane lands in The Emerald City." He told me, keeping a straight face.

I laughed and yawned. "Okay, then."

Robert frowned at my amused look. "What? I known absolutely nothing about you, except that you like Johnny Depp and popcorn, which all you pretty much eat. Besides that..."

"You already know me Robert." I told him, squinting at him. He shook his head quickly.

"I don't know your favorite color." He said. I just stared at him. A minute later I realized that he was actually waiting for me to tell him what my favorite color was.

"Oh, it's black."

He raised an eyebrow. "What?" I said defensively, not liking his facial expression. He was judging me.

Robert shook his head. "Nothing."

"I'm not emo, Robert. So, what is it?"

"Nothing." He said, that stupid smirk plastered across his face.

"What the hell is wrong with black!?" He put his hands up, surrendering.

"Hey, there's nothing... wrong, or right, about your favorite color being black. To each, his own." He quoted, smiling when I rolled my eyes.

"This is where you ask me what my favorite color is, just in case you didn't know."He says, crossing his arms.

I asked and he pretended to think. "Uh, I think it's grey, maybe, or maybe like a dark blue." He said frowning. "Those are the colors I wear the most, anyway."

I nodded. "Next question?"

He asked me about hundred and ten more questions, all random, but necessary. I was his kid, after all, and it wasn't his fault he didn't know crap about me.

I told him that my favorite band was tied with The Script and The Band Perry. He smirked because he never thought that I would listen to country music, but I confessed that I used to dream about being Carrie Underwood when I was little. He laughed at that for a good thirty seconds. I told him about my favorite songs and showed him my old Pandora stations... I hadn't listened to any music since before my mom passed. He looked through them, laughing when he saw Barney and Friends.