AN: This takes place after the episode called "Baptiste." I don't know if I'm going to stick to the following episodes after it if they contradict my story. But they haven't so far, so that's good! Anyhoo, I got this idea from something Baptiste said, and I just decided to run with it. Hope you enjoy. This is going to be just in longish drabble form. I think. We'll see how it goes.
Oh yeah, right. Disclaimer: I don't own anything that isn't mine. this story doesn't contain slash. It doesn't contain incest. It doesn't contain adult scenes. It contains little, if any, coarse language. So basically, rated because I'm paranoid.
PS -thanks so much to everyone who reviewed/alerted/favorited! I really appreciate it :)
Cindy rode the elevator up into Chance's loft apartment and stepped out, taking things in. It was definitely a guy's apartment. "C'mon, kid," her dad said, walking toward the stairs. She followed him, the weight of her backpack bouncing on her back. She didn't have what you'd call good parents. Kinda the opposite; she hadn't gotten a choice picking them, though. But she had loved 'em. That's what kids did. He wasn't around often. Not at all, really. He wasn't even on her birth certificate, though he could probably fix it so that the records were altered somehow. But she understood. It was his way.
"You can have this room," he said, pushing a door open. She tilted her head, looking through the doorway. It was an okay room, kind of small, but she was small too, so whatever. It had a blue bedspread and a dresser, and a lamp by the bed. Walking through the door, she put her backpack on the bed and asked, "Who lives here?" A tactful way of saying, 'do you live here too?'
"Just Chance. Winston and I have other places. But new girl might stick around."
"Who?" she asked, looking up.
"Leila. Tech girl. New." He held the door open. "Oh yeah, Chance's dog, too."
"He has a dog?" She was interested instantly.
"Yep. It's around here somewhere."
She took off, pounding down the stairs to where Chance had plopped down on the sofa to channel surf. "Where's your dog?" she demanded, running a hand through her blond hair.
He scanned the room. "I think he's with Leila. He likes to slobber on her stuff. Go distract him, she'll thank you for it." He pointed to an adjoining room. Cindy shot through it and ended up on her knees by a brown and black dog that was very happy to receive all the petting she wanted to give. A redheaded woman gave a heartfelt sigh of relief and moved the wires of her many computers out of the dog's way.
"She takes after you," Chance told Guerrero, who had come downstairs.
"Dude, I don't like animals."
"That's not what I'm talking about," Chance said, amused.
"I suppose you mean she inherited my kind temperament," the mustached man said sarcastically. He pulled out his iphone and checked his messages.
"Well, there is that," Chance said with a wry twist of his mouth. "But she's like a small version of you."
"That's like really creepy, dude," Guerrero said, not looking up from his phone.
Chance laughed. "Whatever. Forget it."
Cindy watched them surreptitiously from her spot on the floor with the dog; whose tag proclaimed his name was Carmine. One man was obviously muscled, with a blond crew cut, clean shaved, and a tattoo peeked out from underneath the arm of his t-shirt. The other man wore a black undershirt and a brown long sleeved, unbuttoned shirt. He wore glasses, had hair that came down further than his ears, and sported stubble all around his moustache and goatee. Two different people, but obviously good, trusted friends. Cindy knew Chance wasn't like any of Amanda's boyfriends, the ones she was actually interested in and that didn't pay her. He was nice. They weren't. She hated them. She kind of hated Amanda too. So being here wasn't so bad.
She just hoped someone would tell her what was going on.
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