𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬

𝐬𝐞𝐩𝐭

"So, who wants to answer the door?" Tara asks, slowly pivoting around to look at Atlas, expecting him to be there. But to her dismay- and amusement, he wasn't.

He was hidden behind the bright orange couch, the only thing visible from him being his small fingers.

"Hello? Earth to Atlas?" Tara walks over to him and waves his arms in front of his face, bringing him back to attention.

"Huh?" He cranes his neck to look at his sister, who was trying very hard to not laugh at the sight of his brother looking like a camel.

"Are you gonna answer the door? Cause I couldn't find any pixie dust lying around here." Tara points at the door that's being pounded upon at the very moment.

Atlas peeks above the couch, trying to compose himself.

Damn it Atlas, you're a high-level mafia official and you're scared of what's behind a door? Correction, he wasn't afraid of what was behind the door, he was afraid of the measures he would have to take if someone behind his door was part of his world.

Atlas exhales sharply and discreetly brushes the backside of his palm against his waistband, checking for his gun. He frowns when he can't feel the all-too-comfortable cool metal of his trusty weapon.

His eyes widen as he frantically scans every inch of the apartment, all the while going through his memory to find where he had left his gun last.

"Are you gonna go get the door?" Tara asks for the last time, keeping her eyes on the door, breaking Atlas's line of thought.

"Okay, Okay I'm going. Just stay there okay?" Atlas asks while going up to the door and peering through the keyhole.

Tara nods, sitting on the same orange couch that Atlas was previously hiding behind, excited to see who was behind the door. His hand curves around the doorway and the door unlocks to see a very attractive man behind him, holding a large box.

"Hey, Atlas. I was wondering if you wanted to continue painting the paint by numbers together?" The chocolate skinned man asked, the cross earrings jingling along when he shakes his head.

"Um, I actually have piglet over here. Remember I told you about her?" Atlas tells Maurice, trying not to reveal his identity.

"Piglet? She's he- Oh. I can leave." Maurice gets interrupted halfway through as he offers to leave, causing Tara to spring up, determined to make a new friend through her talent.

"No, um, please stay. Atlas would love for you to come to paint with him." Tara says, forcing Atlas to do her bidding.

Maurice looks at Atlas with an eyebrow quirked,

"You sure man?"

"Yes, I'm sure," Atlas says, plastering a smile on his face. Tara smiles back, skipping off to the kitchen to get some newspapers to cover the table. Maurice gapes, open-mouthed. He smirks lightly,

"You are so whipped." He mutters in his friend's ear, causing him to get a scowl in return.

"You would be too if your sister came to live with you for the first time in six years," Atlas whispers, leaving Maurice frozen in his spot.

Sister? He thought that Piglet was something white people would call their girlfriend, not their sister.

"Mr? Dp you wanna come to sit here? Or you can go sit in the kitchen over there, alone." Tara says while putting her hair up with a stray ribbon that she had found in a random drawer.

"Um, I'm coming." Maurice rushes toward the small table and sits all the paints down, causing Tara to get in her zone.

As all of them get started, Atlas attempts to start some type of conversation,

"Hey do any of y'all want something to drink?" He asks, getting replies from both of the people sitting at the table.

"Can I get a pink lemonade?" Comes from Tara, who was sketching on the piece of bark.

"Can I get a whiskey on the rocks?" Comes from Maurice, whose eyes couldn't peel themselves away from what the small girl was drawing.

Atlas chuckles underneath his breath, both of them had drastically different orders. Tara had asked for something sweet and bubbly which had matched her personality while Maurice had asked for something hard. Something dark and unknown.

As he opens the fridge a slightly cooled gun greets him, lying right next to the pink lemonade. Atlas facepalms,

Out of all the places I could put it, I put it in the fridge? Really?

Meanwhile, in the living room, the conversation was thriving. Tara had finally gotten comfortable enough to ask the chocolate skinned man some questions.

"What's your name?" She asks, swirling the green with a blue to create a tertiary color.

"Maurice." The man- Maurice was very focused on the painting of his look-alike Van Gogh painting.

"Like Beauty and the Beast?" She asks, her curiosity piqued.

*

Maurice was confused. This girl had just asked him if he was named after an old man, more specifically an inventor. Nobody had ever asked him that. Sure, it might have something to do with the fact that he was a mafia boss, but still, nobody had asked him.

Still, this girl had interested him, in more ways than one. From the fact that she had ordered pink lemonade, to the way she held her pencil.

"Sure. I never thought to think about it that way, but sure, I'm named after a Disney character." Maurice admits to himself, causing Tara's eyes to light up. She slaps him on the back,

"That's an honor, to be named after a Disney character. I wanted to be named after a country, but that didn't happen. Oh, how rude of myself! My name's Tara and it's so nice to meet you." Her face was just like a cartoon character, it was so animated and he loved that about her.

"Where are you from in New York?" She asks in her thick accent, surprising everyone.

"Your accent gave it away." She quickly adds, trying to cover the last comment up.

"I'm from Staten Island." He lifts his head up to view the small girl painting in front of him.

"Is it pretty there?" Tara asks, wiping her hands on the cooking apron that she had borrowed.

"Sorta. I mean it's not too pr-" Tara interrupts Maurice, untying the ribbon holding her hair in place,

"I'm talking about life, the culture. Is it colorful, full of diversity?"

"Yes, it is. I never really thought about it in that way though." Maurice says, flabbergasted.

"Not many people do," Tara mutters, leaving him alone with his thoughts and a weird sense of wanting to protect the small star.