A/N: By next month, I should be hitting a bit of a stride in my updates, as I'll have a rather substantial amount of free time. I just hope it lasts.

A/N 2: I also want to say that in the previous chapter, I used more Italics than I ever thought I'd use in a single piece of work.

Warning: The more I write Danny, the more I understand why some fics either kill him off in the beginning or keep his interactions with Taylor very minimal or contained in summaries. It's becoming tedious as shit. So I'm going to be rushing through his segment a little bit.

I don't own Worm.


Faultine really didn't look like a Melanie. At all.

When I thought of the name 'Melanie', I imagined someone soft-faced, innocent and easy-going.

Faultline was almost as tall as me and had a lean, well-muscled build, her face had sharp features and a severe expression that could probably rival some of the more stern-faced police investigators. She was wearing a simple jacket over a grey shirt and cargo pants, she also had some papers in her hand with what looked like a list. I couldn't get a closer look at it, however.

Not really what I was expecting from a cape-mercenary.

She was probably thinking something along those same lines as she looked us over with a scrutinizing gaze.

At this time of day, the art gallery was just opening, so the number of people attending was low. So it was easy for dad to find a parking spot. It was also very easy to spot the van that Faultline had used to get here, and that would take me to an airplane, that would take me to Vegas.

This is really happening. I thought as I pulled on my suitcase and secured the strap of my heavy backpack.

"You are... Maria right? Pleased to meet you, my name is Daniel Hebert, I'm Taylor's father." He offered his hand to... Melanie.

She took it. "Hi, yes I'm Maria Smith. I guess you want to talk about what we will be doing in Vegas?" He nodded. "Right, I can say that there will be no Casino visits of any sort as some of us are still underage, and even then we only have a limited amount of money to spend."

My dad let out a relieved sigh at this. "Thank you, we, well, are a bit short on money so Taylor isn't bringing much, but, will we have to pay a small part of the expenses?" Faultline shook her head.

"No, I have it all covered, the money we are bringing is for other things we will be doing; meaning souvenirs, visits to the monument replicas, clothes-shopping, that kind of stuff. I could stay here and tell you all that we will be doing, but I actually have an itinerary of all our activities, so if you want to go over them..." She punctuated her statement by showing my dad the papers she was carrying.

"Yes I would like to, thank you." My dad said as he grabbed them and took a seat on the nearby bench.

Faultline took the opportunity to ask a question. "Mr. Hebert, I think I've seen your name in the newspaper before, are you a part of the Dockworker's Union by any chance?" Faultline asked.

My dad looked up from the itinerary. "Head of hiring and spokesperson actually," He said wearily. His job was a bit of a sore point. "It's been hard to work in a Port town since Leviathan appeared, but... I think I can make it work, or I could if the mayor tried to help the docks a bit more but..."

Faultline nodded in sympathy before asking if she could talk to me while he reads the itinerary.

As we moved away from hearing range, I began."You... really don't look like a Melanie, like at all."

She sighed. "I know."

I guess this is something people are constantly bringing up if this is how she reacts. I thought.

"Moving on from that though, you didn't tell me that your father was a somewhat-important person involved in the city's economy." She asked without any real bite and an inquisitive tone.

I sighed heavily. "It... it just... didn't really feel important at the time," I didn't need to say 'conflict drive' for Melanie to know what I was talking about.

"I'll give you a warning in advance, blaming everything on that won't apply to everything. And blaming it every time you do something impulsive would be stupid. That drive just makes you do something you already, in some level, want to do. I just want you to keep that in mind."

I nodded. I actually had thought about this. "I know, I know, but I can blame it for this at least."

"Just don't make it a habit," Melanie replied.

As we finally stopped, I sat down on another bench, with Melanie taking a seat next to me.

"So, is there anything else you haven't mentioned besides your father's status?" She asked.

As we were already out of hearing range from my father, I answered.

Might as well get this out of the way.

"I... can somewhat simulate capes when I get an in-depth scan of them." Melanie looked sharply at me.

I continued before she could interrupt me. "They are mainly combat simulations, and they are always going lethal, so it's not as good a strategic support as you are probably thinking it is-"

This time she interrupted me, raising her hand to stall me. "Taylor... that's not the point, you..." She pinched the bridge of her nose before inhaling and exhaling deeply.

"... How does it work?." She finally asked.

I winced, as I knew where her frustration was coming from. "Well, first I have to imagine a scenario, like a warehouse or a forest, then..."

When I was done explaining, Melanie was looking at me with a tight and... somewhat exasperated expression before offering her hand to me.

"I know it assumes that we are going to be getting in a fight with the intent to kill, but it doesn't mean that it isn't useful, and we will be having words about withholding information like that later." The glint in her eyes as she said the last part let me know that the ride in the van wasn't going to be a fun one.

I nodded and wordlessly took her hand.

[SEVER]

Iteration: Molecular separation
Bud Progress: 89.12%
Energy: 98.99998%
Affected objects: None
Connection Runtime: 6.4 Planetary cycles
Entity: The Warrior

Information Requirement reached.
Simulation of Host available.

I let go of her hand.

"So, are you going to give my Shard's stats?" She asked somewhat jokingly.

I smiled as I grabbed the now familiar scratchy-cardboard texture of the notebook cover and removed from my pocket. "I'll just put in the Power-notebook, you can check it later," I said as I removed the pen clipped to the notebook and started writing.

As much as the thought of having a 'collection' bothers me a little bit, the parahumans in Vegas would make a nice addition.

"Right, you mentioned that... thing at the meeting," Melanie said, making her disapproval at the name obvious, "How many capes have you documented?"

I hummed, trying to remember. "Let's see... of the Protectorate and Wards, I'm only missing Velocity... and I also have Laserdream, Glory Girl and Panacea. There are you guys as well, the PRT's infiltrator, and Victor of the Empire."

Melanie raised an eyebrow. "How did you get Victor?"

"He was... visiting... the coma ward at the hospital," I answered through gritted teeth, my good mood greatly diminished in just one statement.

Faultline evidently shared my feelings, as I could feel her Shard shining with a desire to be used to damage something.

Before we could continue our conversation, my dad started walking towards us. "Everything seems fine, so..." He turned towards me. "I guess this is goodbye, huh?" He was trying to put some levity into his voice, but I could see that this was affecting him.

I turned towards Melanie. "Right... uhm..."

"I'll take your luggage." She said and took my bags without any further prompting.

As soon as she was out of earshot, things became awkward.

I knew that keeping in contact with my dad would help him, but I also knew that leaving him in this manner after our relationship as a family had been slowly being put back together wouldn't be good for him, even if I kept calling and reassuring him that it isn't his fault that I'm leaving. He would see it as a failing of his own, that he was unable to protect me. That he was unable to be a good father.

That is why I must find the luck-cape, Shamrock, as soon as possible. I refuse to let my dad suffer like that for long.

"... Taylor I-" I hugged him as tightly as I could. Almost immediately, I felt him hug me back.

"Dad, I... It's not your fault. I- I know you are going to be too hard on yourself when I'm gone so please, I-" I took a fortifying breath. "I'm... I'm sorry." I couldn't think of anything else to say.

We were silent for almost a minute.

Eventually, he spoke.

"We'll... see each other in a week or two again, so, uhm, what will you want to do then?" He asked, trying to hold back tears.

"Fix the step, seeing as you finally broke it," I said with some humor.

He gave a small laugh at that."I'll- I'll probably do that tomorrow, so a-anything else?"

I hesitated. "I don't know, uhm... Fugly Bob's maybe?"

"Fugly Bob's it is." He said, despite how much an unappealing option it was.


Faultline wasn't amused at my withholding of information, as she had started lecturing me about it the minute she drove the van moved out of my dad's sight.

That had been almost ten minutes ago.

For the first five, I hadn't been paying attention, I could have focused my multitasking on what she was saying, but I didn't, as my mind was very occupied coming up with all the negative ways this trip would affect my dad.

Thankfully, Melanie snapped me out of it as soon as she noticed. But, of course, this made the rest of the lecture even worse.

"It's not like I have many capes in my list to simulate anyway, so the relevance of this ability was sorta limited, and you were all... distracted back at the Palanquin, so..." I tried to interject.

She didn't let me. "Taylor, that is not the point, the point is to share information between us, even if you don't see much use in it. That is what we agreed back then, and you holding something back because you didn't think it was useful could prove detrimental in the long-run."

I remembered that conversation quite well, but it was information concerning the Path's Host and not information in general, but I got the feeling that Melanie wouldn't appreciate me pointing that out.

"And, speaking of information," She continued. "I have a suspect for the PRT's infiltrator."

Any complaint I could have had over Melanie still grilling me evaporated.

"Who?" I asked eagerly, turning to look at her fully, rather than the side-glances that I had given her during her lecturing of me.

"Now, it's not a definite answer. He could be working for the Disconnected directly, or he could be working for Accord or any other third party that has interests in Brockton, which isn't many."

She paused for a second.

"But the main suspect so far is Coil."

I frowned. "Coil... only has hired mercenaries with cheap tinkertech right? Why him?" Of all the research I'd done, Coil was one of the smaller players in the city, if he had powers nobody knew what they were. His organization itself didn't even hold territory beyond the occasional 'protection racket', and their movements were limited beyond the occasional attack against the gangs and PRT alike that don't seem to achieve anything.

Although, that could be an indicator that he hid his true goals to the point that some Thinkers aren't able to figure them out.

I guess that's a point for 'the Infiltrator works for Coil, or is Coil himself'.

"As you might have just figured out, he constantly flies under everyone's radar, so he definitely has room to operate with no one being the wiser as to what he is doing." Malanie let out a frustrated sigh. "There isn't much evidence beyond that, but it's better than what we had before. Have you found anything else about him?" She asked.

"Nothing beyond his car's license plate, and the fact that he's taller and thinner than me. It's not like I can just walk up to him and ask for his name." But there was a greater reason why we still didn't know much about him.

"And, if I decide to do that. He could answer, but then erase the simulation. Then, I would have tipped him off that I'm curious about him, and he would be using another simulation to investigate." I said with frustration.

He may not be that much of a precog but fuck it's annoying.

Melanie seemed non-plussed about my rant. "The license plate should be enough to track him down later. I know some people that might know how to find someone that offers that kind of service in Vegas, I'll just need to make a few calls."

Wait.

I turned to her with a suspicious glance."Why didn't we do that in Brockton?"

"Because the more time I spend around you, the more this city is starting to look like a conspiracy-convention, meaning that everyone involved in some kind of illegal actions is working for someone else or soon will; so I refuse to take any risks when it comes to that." She answered, ignoring the suspicious gaze I had set on her.

Oh, it's just more paranoia then.

I already knew that telling her that all the security measures would be mostly useless against the Path-Host would be fruitless.

But they could be downright useful when used against common people and most parahumans, so she was somewhat justified in all her measures.

And then I remembered something.

"Hey, uhm... about the information deal, I once asked my Shard what other Shard's previous hosts' Administrator's Hosts have been in conflict within almost every cycle, and it gave me two Shard names."

Melanie was looking somewhat interested. "Trying to figure out which capes you are least likely to get along with?" She asked knowingly.

I nodded. "Yes, anyway, it said Escalation and Broadcast. I was wondering if you had some existing parahumans in mind to match to the Shards."

Melanie hummed as the van stopped at a red light. "I can't say anything about Broadcast, as it could be anything from telepathy, to sound manipulation; but... Escalation though..." She winced.

"Becoming stronger in the face of conflict... that's either some unknown, or non-triggered cape, which is the best-case scenario; or... its either Crawler from the Slaughterhouse 9, or Lung."

My jaw slackened.

The Murder-hobo-masochistic-adaptive-regenerator, or the Pyrokinetic-rage-dragon that survived an Endbringer while alone?!

Melanie looked at me in sympathy. "Sorry."

I could only hold my face in my hands. Why me? Haven't I suffered enough?!

I sighed heavily and turned to my thoughts as the van started moving again, further and further away from areas of the city that I can recognize.

Administrator, how have those two Shards manifested?

[UNKNOWN]

So, while you can say that they were deployed in this Cycle, you don't know how they'd manifest. Fuck.

Has Escalation ever manifested as reactive-evolution in a previous Cycle?

[AFFIRMATIVE]

Has it ever manifested as some form of element control and escalating shapeshifting?

[AFFIRMATIVE]

Fucking hell, how many Cycles has it been in?.

[ANSWER]

What. The. Absolute FUCK!?

I was distracted by Melanie opening the glove compartment and pulling out some rolled up toilet paper.

"Did Admin say anything?" She asked as she offered me the tissues.

"Apparently, Zion's pretty fond of Escalation, and has deployed this version of it in seventeen Cycles, so it's pretty strong. It also has manifested some variant of both Crawler's and Lung's powers at least once, so it's practically impossible to narrow it down." I said as I wiped my bloody nose and massaged my temples in hopes of lessening the headache.

"I know next to nothing about Broadcast so I didn't ask about it." And I didn't want to worsen this headache. "I'll ask about it later."

"Well," Melanie began. "We can only hope that you don't bump into its Host then."

Knowing my luck, it is almost a certainty that I will.

We were both quiet for a few minutes.

As the number of buildings started to decrease, I spoke again.

"So," I began with a chipper voice that failed to hide how unsettled I still was about the possible identities of one of my possible archnemesis'. "Do you want to know what your Shard's stats are now?"

The rest of the trip was made in a marginally better mood, but it still didn't do much to calm my worries.

Of what would happen in Vegas.

Of what would happen when I bumped into Escalation or Broadcast.

Of what would happen to my dad while I was away.

I did my best to push them out of my mind as I looked at the plane...no, the private jet that Faultline had booked.

Does she have that kind of money on hand? Or is it a favor from a former client? Hell if I know, but at least we are going to Vegas in style.

I had been expecting a somewhat rusty plane with a maximum height limit just low enough to avoid radars or something. But this was one of the fancy jets that were commonly used by businessmen and politicians.

"Is it a favor from a client?" I asked Melanie.

"It is, and they know how to be discreet." She answered as I took my luggage and took it aboard the plane, where I could feel the rest of Faultline's team.

After the luggage was secured in the overhead compartments, we moved to the area where everyone else was waiting.

I had been expecting a few rows of fancy seats, and while there were, there was also what looked like a living room at the immediate beginning of the room. Newter had picked one of the couches in this area to take a nap, while Labyrinth sat on one of the fancy seats, completely reclined, with Spitfire sitting next to her. Both girls were wearing their masks.

And going by his location in my range, Gregor was in the bathroom.

Lovely.

"Where's Gregor?" Melanie asked as she looked around the cabin for her missing teammate.

"In the bathroom," I told her.

And just in time, as soon as I finished my statement, the bathroom door opened and Gregor came out, taking a small pause at seeing us, before moving to the living room section and shaking Newter awake.

"Uh-Wha-?" The newly-awakened Case-53 looked around before spotting me.

"You are-uhh Visionary, right?" I nodded.

"Hi, my name is Taylor Hebert," I said as politely as I could.

He gave a lazy, two-fingered salute. "Hey, as you may know by now, name's Newter," He gestured to his fellow Case-53, "and this Gregor."

Gregor, for his part, gave a polite gesture of the head before offering me his hand to shake. "Miss Hebert." He said cordially with a heavy accent.

I shook his hand.

[̶̧̹̥̫̑̌E̵̪̼̻̬̊̕L̵͖̓́ͅ&̸̺̖͍͔̯͘Ṣ̶̎͊̀̆͠T̷͇̯̲͛̾̌I̶̜̱̱̳͗̎Ć̴̢̞̰̲̾͘͝ͅ[̵̜̗̣̊C̵̯͔̹̗̈́H̷̳͖́̀E̶̯̱̎M̵̡̗̖͒̓̓͆͝ͅ%̷̝̃͛C̷̖̖͓͕̊͌̉̕A̴͋͂̾͘͜/̴̯̈́̓̓͘]̴̺͉͔͚́͐Ì̶̪T̸̳̗̹̹̬͌Y̵̲̼̬̮̻͗]̷̫͈͎͔͇͛͆̂̔

Iteration: ̵̛̖̭̀V̵̤͈͎̤̎ͅą̶̜͉̯̟́̈́̈͆r̸̮̰͂i̴̡̼̬͂̀ͅȃ̴̺̭̙̯̇͆̈́͝-̵̝̼̯͎̋͊̂ ̷̞͗͊͋̂M̴̰͙͒ą̷̛̦̥̎͆̈́l̴̢͎̗̆̇̅l̴͖̹̮̭̈̔ę̸̮̖́̚ͅͅa̷̤̲͋̐͐͠b̷̜̻̀̈́͊͊̽l̷̳̝̣̭̄̋̈́̀ë̴̯̩̫̟͍́̓͛-̸̱̣̹͔̿͆̐b̸̻͉̥͓̂l̷͙̄͋̃ͅĕ̶͕̙̬̈́̅ ̵̱̰͚͓̀c̴͎̼̦̈́̅͂̂͠h̴̛̝̊̂e̷̛̖͍̹͈̟̓́͆m̴̨͓̱͋̓̀̕c̸̨͕̱̤̭̋͑̉̿͠i̸̡̛̺̤̰̩͛̆̕a̸̖̟̔̄͌͒l̷̘̟̺̥̆̃̔̕͜͝s̴͔̬͒̄:̸̡̡̠̯̯̈́̊̈́̋ ̵̘̅͐̍̕ô̸̱̓̏̕f̷̞͆̀̕f̶̦̭͛̽ȩ̷̨̯̩̍́̂̅̕ṇ̸̼̀̈́s̶̨̧̻̭̰͋̚ȩ̶̗̭͍͖̓̄̇͋͝/̸̥̱̓̍̇̑d̴̮͕̙̘͈̒̀e̴̤͉͉̿́̊̄͠f̶͍͚̘̅̈́̈́̈́͠ę̴̉͂͑́n̷͇̎̈s̴̨͉͙̀̓e̴̡̟̮̅̋̒̽͝-̷͎̩̖̫͚͆̀̌̓͗b̷̳̳̄͒̚͠o̶̝̱̗̲̠͑͠ň̸̳̐̄̊̈́ẹ̴̆ ̷͓̹̕s̴̢̀̍͋t̷̥̆͛r̸̪͔͍̙͒̿u̶͎͎̜͋c̶̠͚̹̣̀̂͛̔ţ̸̥͈̞͖͋͆̆̀u̸̢̧͈͙̅̐͊͗r̶͙͔̱̫͈͂́̈́͝͝ë̸̝̥͖͙́
Bud Progress: ̷̧̪̾̾(̴̤̫̖̓̄&̶̝͍̇)̶̠̋́̆̈=̵̢͇̬̖͌(̸͈̩̮̮͒̓́͂͜͝/̸͕̪̤̘̈́̽̕&̸͖͎̘̯͛̃̓́͝(̶̲̀͒̈̽͌)̵͚̣̜́̇̾͝ ̷͖̈̈͒̚%̷̨̠͚̪̙̅͊̈́
Energy: 9̷͚̖̅͒9̵̗̇͝.̵̣͙̺̠̈͊9̵̡̳̼͗8̸̢̨̼̥̩͝3̶̹̀̋̈̕4̷̦̉̇͋͝ͅ5̸̼̠̈͘9̵̻̱͈̓͛8̵͔̝̺͎͖̏̂͌͂3̸̥̮̼̓̔̀̊4̷̘̭̱͓̼̄̍͐͋̅7̶̰͛̽̊̾̄ ̶̲̲͘%̸̬̖̏̿̄
Affected objects: Self
Connection Runtime:8̵̮͉͙̉.̵̨͕̙̱̭̌͆6̵̱͉̙͎̞̿̒͌ ̵̡̜̳͑͑͒P̸̺̮͛̍͋̈́̈́l̶̢͍͎͘ͅä̴̘̲̭̈̇͐̉n̷̹̞͗̽̏͑̕ḙ̶̻̑̐ṱ̷͌̀̋̎͝á̷̡͕͈̦͘ŕ̵̢̘̪̯̰ý̵̰̆ ̴̼̮̪̘̆̀̕ͅC̷̟͉̼̍y̵̟̻̆́c̵̡̢͎͕̏͗͂̍͗ḷ̴̏̈́͗̾ę̴̤̪̓s̷̜̬̼̭͂̑̔
Entity:
T̴̡̬͙͖̑̈̂͊̀̐͝ͅ/̷̨̥̙̜̞̜̝͍̱̝͇͍̞̻̖͙̠͚̊̄̈̽͗͛̊̆̚͝%̵̛̖͉̜͕̯̥͒͆͌̈́͛͊̕͝ḧ̴̢̘̜̥̝͈͈̍͐͜é̵̡͕̗̼̻̦̺͍̹̱̜͕͐́̆̐̾̃̍̕-̴̻̈́͂̑͆͌͂̓͊̉͊́̓̐͘͘͝W̴̱̲͉͚̺̞͖̲͕͈̠͈̟̝͎̓͐̀̀̈́̑̀͆͐͒̌͘͜͜͠ḁ̶̢̢̧̧͍̺̭̫̙̪͈̣̫̼͓͇̖̀̀̀̏͂̈́̍̎̿́̅̅̈̂̏̿̈́̚r̵̨̢̢̤̙̘̼͉̤̳̙̋̓̍̓̅̾͆̀̾͑̍͘͠ͅŗ̴̢̡̻̤͕͓̹͎̺͍̟̣͕̝̖̀͌͒̆̊̋͜(̷̛̹̼̏͆̓̇͛̇̂̉̚͝͠/̸̢̼̺̼̮̳͎͎̬̖̤̰̣̲̦͑͋͛͜&̴̢̺̣̦͕̲̲̊͊́́̈́̐́̏̈́͂̇̚̚͝͝Ṭ̶̢̛̠̠̘̣͍͙̱͊͆͒̒̾̂̓̓̌͛̀͘͝H̶̞̺̱͓̑į̴̡̡̢͕͇̰̘̝̗̻̪͙̤̳̻̙̼̈́̈́̎̒̀̃̾̈́̈́̔͝͝ņ̷̡̧̟̼̪̞̳̥̦͕̳̠̹̊̉͝k̴̢̰̝̠̞͇̯̘͍͊͒͒̃̃͜͝(̸̧̘̗̩̺̩̹̞̪̼͔͔͊̉̾͒͊́͛͒̉͑̂̓̏̍̇́́͝%̴̛̩̰͙̽͛̀̽̑̄͋̇̒̍͋̚E̴̤͉̗̱̋͂̃̾́͆̋͂̕̚ͅṟ̶̥̻̯̜͔̤̠̫̪͓̻̱̗͉̟̥̍͐͋̐̇̽̇͊̐̏̀̚̚̕͝)̸̡͎̮̰̗̖̙̙͈́9̴̺̰̼̇͗͌̈́̈́̓͝Ĭ̷̤̣̖̳̗̥̫͎͍̹͔͔͔͔͔̫͐9̸̨̡̻̤̬̪̼̱̫̺̝̜͐̿ͅ6̶̣͚̭̄̐̍̌̚͝O̶̧̧͎̗̞̓̄̃͐̄ř̶̺̘̳̣̬͚͚̲̏̿͂̕

Information requirement reached.
Simulation of Host available.

Any further pleasantries were cut off by my grunt of pain, as the information from two different sources tried to make themselves known over the other, causing a mess.

Jesus FUCK, I should have asked Administrator if this would be viable to do because FUCK! this hurts!

"Taylor? What happened?" I heard over the haze that had settled over my mind.

I opened my eyes (when did I close them?) to see that Faultline was holding my shoulders and was lookingat me with a concerned expression.

I waved her off, as my headache was already subsiding. "I'm fine, I'm fine, I..."

She cut me off, "You tried to get an in-depth scan of Gregor's Shards and your attempt backfired didn't it?"

I nodded, "Yeah," I turned to Gregor who was also carrying an expression of concern, "Sorry about that, didn't mean to, uhh..."

"It's okay Miss Hebert, I understand perfectly, you were curious as to what happened with my... Shards. That said, I would like to be told in advance in the future," he said with no actual bite. I nodded.

"And you should also clean yourself up you are... bleeding, a lot." This interjection came from Newter, as Spitfire came from where she was sitting and grabbed a fancy handkerchief from one of the tables that had slipped my notice.

I barely had time to feel a warm and metallic taste invade my senses before I was holding the handkerchief to my nose. Not the most pain I've gone through when Shards are involved, but definitely the biggest amount of blood, holy shit. I thought as I saw the handkerchief become redder and redder every second.

I turned towards Spitfire, who, behind the dark-tinted lenses of her gas-mask was also looking at me with concern. "Thanks," I said sincerely.

She shrugged off-handedly, "Don't mention, name's Emily by the way," she said as she removed her gas-mask and revealed a freckled face and short, curly brown hair. "And... I think you should go to the bathroom, like, right now. I'll introduce you to Elle as soon as you are out." She told me while pointing at a door further down the hall. I saw Labyrinth perk up at the mention of, what had to be, her name.

"Again, thanks," I said as I walked towards the door she had pointed me towards.

As for first-, or second, impressions go, I thought as I closed the bathroom door and looked at myself in the mirror.

I could have done worse.


A/N: I'm starting to dislike Danny's character, like, a lot, and not because he's in the way of the plot or something, it's just that writing the 'depressed-single-father-with-low-income-trying-to-reconnect-with-his-bullied-daughter' is starting to get old, fast, and I need him alive, so killing him off-screen is not an option. So you can expect a decrease of scenes involving Danny unless the plot really calls for it.

A/N 2: That said, this is probably this month's last update, so see you all in July folks.