Phantom

From the Chandelier

"Get off my counter," Marie threw a dish towel over the honey brown hair of her employer's son. He made an incoherent sound and slowly lifted his face off of his arms. She finished cleaning up the stray orange peels and placed the yellow ambrosia in the fridge, before starting breakfast for the household.

"I can't do it anymore," he whined.

The chief bustled around the room gathering together ingredients for breakfast pastries. Pulling out a large bowl, "don't be so dramatic, he's only been here three days."

"Only..." he groaned. "How long is Cheshire gonna be here?"

She noted the bags around his eyes, "What time did you go to bed last night?"

He glared at her, "I didn't."

She raised an eyebrow, "Don't give me that look, young man. Why didn't you sleep last night?"

"That bast-"

"Watch your language!" she snapped sharply.

"Cheshire wanted to ride Dodger," he grumbled.

"That horse?" Marie began to twist and knead the dough, forming little rounded mounds. "So?"

"He wanted to ride them last night," he put his head down again.

"And?"

"I don't know what happened."

She exhaled, "that isn't as exciting as I would have hoped."

"They're getting him down from a tree now."

"I would think that Cheshire would have been able to get down on his own," she mused, putting the first tray in the oven.

"He did."

Marie pushed a lock of dark brown hair from her rounded face and frowned. He saw the realization dawn, "Dodger?!"

"I don't even know," he shook his head.

Marie plopped several pans on the stove and pulled some ham out of the fridge, "do you know anything about him?"

"No!" The olive-skinned teenager snapped, "Every time I ask a question, he runs off on some deep philosophical thing and doesn't answer the question!"

"Well maybe you should look deeper into the answers that he gives you," Marie said calmly over the sizzle of ham and eggs. "He probably didn't have the same opportunities that you have."

"Like an age?"

She shot him a glare, "It's not impossible for someone to not know how old they are. If they were abandoned when they were young, or if they got amnesia."

"Then why not say 'I don't know'!" He threw his hands up in the air. "It's so much easier than coming up with this huge 'age does not matter' theory!"

"Maybe he has to," Marie said thoughtfully. "Maybe he doesn't know, and so he decided that it didn't matter. Maybe he came up with that 'theory' so that he could feel okay about not knowing something."

He blinked, not wanting to say that her analysis made complete sense, but unable to come up with a witty comeback.

"Where is he now, anyways?" Marie asked.

"Probably cutting all of the piano strings or something," the teenager huffed and got to his feet. "I should probably go find him."

"Just make sure you put an end to his shenanigans soon, breakfast is almost ready."

"'kay."

He meandered around his spacious home looking all around for the white haired assassin, until he wandered into the ballroom. He had almost deemed the room empty when something fell from the ceiling and shattered at his feet. his eyes whirled up and caught Cheshire perched on the inordinately large and impressive chandelier. 

He apparently knocked over one of the small glass candle holders.

"GET DOWN!" the green eyed teenager shouted.

"Noooo," Cheshire smiled.

"Cheshire!"

"Iiiii wanna swiiingg fromm the chaaandellliiiieeeere!"