A/N: Special thanks to ariestess for the first sentence prompt, the quick beta, and enduring me spamming you with this on skype.
"Why do Veronica's clothes smell like a brewery, Fancy?"
"Who's Veronica?"
Ann stares incredulously at Fancy, whose expression is pure innocence - which is everything Fancy is not.
"My daughter," Ann says, arms crossed and brow furrowed, "Veronica. Whom you took out last night, only to drag in completely disheveled and giggly this morning."
"Oh, you mean Ronnie!" Fancy steps forward and slaps Ann's arm, mischief dancing in her bright blue eyes. "Why didn't you just say so, Annie? It was just a little accident at The Home, nothing to worry about."
"You did not!" Ann says, grabbing Fancy's arm before she can walk away. "Don't tell me you took my Veronica to -"
"The Home? Yes, I did." Ann's grip tightens, anger boiling to the surface. Fancy continues with her feigned innocence, enticed by the fire in Ann's eyes. "You should be proud of her. Our little Ronnie is a natural entertainer and easily loved by everyone."
"Fancy!" Ann scolded. "Veronica is only fifteen! I don't want her spending time in - in those places."
"Oh my lord! My dear, sweet Annie." Fancy chuckles. "Aren't you just precious? The Home For Runaways. We had a talent show fundraiser last night. We were much too tired by the time it was over, so we spent the night. You didn't really think I'd take that angel anywhere seedy, did you?"
This time, when Ann speaks it's with a quiet timidness. "... No. No, of course not."
Ann releases Fancy's arm and bites her lip.
"Oh, Annie, you know I'd never do anything to harm that girl." Fancy leans in to give Ann a quick peck on the lips. "You know, I was about her age when I started working. I can't change my past or who I've become, but I'm doing my damndest to keep girls like Ronnie from living it. I promise you, Annie, as long as I'm around, you'll never have to worry about her."
"I'm sorry," Ann whispers, lifting her hand to brush a strand of red hair behind Fancy's ear. "It's just that you've always been so much... wilder than me and -"
Fancy silences her with a slender finger over Ann's lips.
"You're a worrier and a prude, I get it."
"I am not a prude! I just have standards."
"Oh, I know all about your standards, Annie." Fancy says, a perfectly manicured finger trailing from Ann's lips down to the collar of her blouse. "Though I might be due for a little refresher..."
"You've got it," Ann leans in to kiss behind Fancy's ear before adding, "as soon as you explain why my daughter smells of alcohol."