Meanwhile…

Heading for his parent's room, Lincoln stopped as he heard a conversation going on in there. He waited at the door until his grandfather came out, shaking his head.

"Oh…hey, Lincoln?"

"So…any luck getting her to change her mind?" Lincoln asked. He figured that if anyone could talk sense into his mom, it would be her own father.

"Fraid not." Albert's brow fell. "I was trying to tell her that Kathleen's a bad egg and up to something screwy, but I don't think she took my suspicions seriously."

He sighed. "I tell ya, this is the downside of being a senior citizen. Whenever ya try to warn folks not to do something, they just dismiss you with, "Oh, that crazy old coot has dementia, don't mind him". All those years of pretense…I mean offense….eh…ughh…" he knocked on his temple to get his train of thought straight "…I mean, experience mean bupkis to them."

"I see…" Lincoln knew this was a futile cause. "Well, if it's any consolations, they treat us kids the same way when we try to warn them."

"Maybe, but you still got a shot, Lincoln." His grandfather said encouragingly. "You always were your mom's favorite. If she's going to listen to anyone at this point, it's you."

"Favorite? I'm sure she doesn't mean it quite like that…" Lincoln looked aside, to which Albert chuckled heartily.

"Well, it's mostly guesswork on my part." He said in jest. "But I know one thing for certain. None of your sisters are in the running for that title with Rita. Their ships sailed off years ago."

Yawning, Albert lurched towards his room, saying goodnight to his grandson.

"I better catch some shut-eye. Best of luck, sport."

Bracing himself, Lincoln knocked on the door and walked in. He found his mother packing her suitcase on the bed. He didn't know what mood she would be in.

"Eh…mom? Can I talk with you?"

"Lincoln?" Luckily, Rita seemed to have cooled off and she massaged the bridge of her nose while exhaling. She sounded like had to get something off her chest.

"I'm sorry I yelled at you earlier, I was…" she paused as she saw him holding the frozen pea bag to his face.

"No hard feelings, mom. I know I barged in at a bad-"

"What's that icepack?"

Lincoln grew nervous, his pupils darting towards his cold compact. He knew he couldn't hide it from his mother, so he reluctantly removed it.

Rita's eyes widened and she dropped her sunscreen in shock.

"What the hell happened to you?" she rushed towards him.

"It's nothing really. I'm fine." He hastily assured her, trying to think of a cover story.

"I was…I was trying to prove that I could do a fondue recipe dad taught me when we were at Ryan's place, and I…had an accident?"

His mother looked at him in horror and confusion before scowling.

"You mean this happened hours ago and you're only now telling me?! Did you even put any ointments on those burns?"

"I….no." Lincoln admitted meekly.

"Mom, mom." Their conversation was interrupted as Leni came in, carrying a piece of paper.

She squinted as she tried to read it. "Lori said this was her ultimate…ultima…ulti…"

With an annoyed grunt, her mother snatched it from her and crumpled it up before throwing it into a trash can.

"Tell her that I don't care, I have more important things to attend to." Rita said curtly. "Now please, just leave us-"

"Oh, hey Linky!" Leni's attention was diverted to her little brother. "Say, why is your face all red?"

Panicking, Lincoln covered it up. "Red? There's nothing red on it?"

"Oh, okay." Leni smiled until she felt something scratching in her pea brain.

"Wait…did you burn yourself?" she realized, then gasped and covered her mouth.

Rita slapped her forehead in annoyance. "Yes, he did. Just leave me to deal with-"

"Don't worry, Linky!" Leni proclaimed nobly. "I know just the home remedy for accidental bu-"

"Nooo!" Mother and son stopped her with wide-eyed horror, the latter backing away.

"Not necessary." Rita turned her around and pushed her out.

"I'll handle this, this is my job. You just go to Lori and tell her to please refrain from any tantrums until after we reach our vacation home. Good night."

The door was slammed shut and locked, leaving Leni alone and puzzled. Her mom did not seem very happy?

"She must not have liked the anniversary gifts we got her?" Leni scratched her head. Wait, did they even get her those gifts?

But something else didn't seem right, the blonde realized. Something in the back of her mind was yelling at her to put two and two together.

"How weird?" she pondered, holding her right hand up. "Linky got badly burned?"

She held her other hand up, "And I poured some hot water out of a window today? And I was told to do it by…"

Her attention was diverted as a beautiful butterfly flew in and she let it land on her finger, instantly getting mesmerized by its vibrant colors.

"Why, hello there, cutie!"

Back inside, Lincoln had been ordered to sit on the bed while his mother rummaged through the drawers.

"I hope you have a good reason for not telling me about your accident sooner." She said sternly.

"I…" Lincoln fiddled with his fingers. "I didn't want to worry you and dad."

"Well, mission failed." His mother replied sardonically as she found the ointment she was looking for.

"I…I also felt embarrassed about it?" Lincoln added.

Rita turned towards him and after a few seconds, her features softened, as did her tone.

"Lincoln…you don't have to be embarrassed about such things. I'm your mother. Even your sisters aren't stupid enough to mock you for getting burned."

"That's not what I…" Lincoln grew tongue-tied and eventually gave up. He couldn't let his injuries derail the conversation.

"Stand still." Rita kneeled in front of him and started rubbing her thumb into the ointment.

"That's not why I came to talk." Lincoln started as she started rubbing it on his cheek.

"I assume it's about the trip." Rita figured. "Your grandfather and I had this talk already."

"It…yes." Lincoln admitted.

"I had a hunch you weren't enthusiastic about it either." Rita continued, eyeing the rash just above his collar. "I see you don't like Kathleen much."

"Mom, be honest with me? Don't you find Kathleen just a tad bit suspicious?" Lincoln started.

"Take your shirt off."

Reluctantly, Lincoln did so and his mother visibly winced at the sight that awaited her, before applying the ointment again.

Lincoln was ticklish but he tried to keep a straight face. "She's b-been so int-trusive and overb-bearing all this t-time…"

"I'm sure you're familiar with such girls." Rita deadpanned and went back to the drawers. "Just lay down in your bed like that and you should be better in the morning."

"Mom, have you been listening?"

Rita put the ointment back in the drawer and paused, not looking at him. Her body language was stiff and tense.

"I have, Lincoln. But we're a bit too far in to cancel it now." She said evenly. "Please, don't tell me you also to think Kathleen's some kind of scheming villain with sinister motives?"

Lincoln bit his lip. He was afraid Albert would be too unsubtle when voicing his concerns.

"I…no, I don't. But she just seems…sketchy to me. Like she's roping us into…"

"…into some elaborate PR stunt?" Rita sighed. "Yes, the thought has crossed my mind, given her line of work."

Lincoln was caught off guard while his mother continued, "And call me a cynic…but I'm inclined to agree with your assumption."

"So you don't trust her?"

"As far as this philanthropist business goes, not really." His mother shrugged.

"…but then…why did you agree?"

"Because for one thing, Kathleen's very insistent about us taking her offer, and she also got punched out by Luan in our home, and not long after that, we barely stopped Lynn from doing much worse to her." Rita explained. "If she wanted to, she could spin it as an excuse to sue us. Actually, no. She wouldn't need to spin anything, people would buy it the moment the name "Loud" was brought up."

Lincoln didn't know what to say to that. He hadn't viewed the situation from that angle.

"But…if she thought of that, don't you think she would have done it by now?" he tried to argue.

"She has an image to maintain. But better to be safe than sorry. This way, we'll be in her good grace." Rita sighed. "I was worried about taking the girls there but Kathleen seems to inspire them to keep their worst impulses in check…somehow."

"Or she just matters enough to them that they do it of their own free will…" she muttered under her breath.

Lincoln paused and mused. It sounded like his mother felt pressured into it, but he sensed that there was more to it. If nothing else, he needed to know.

"You said you wouldn't go without dad agreeing?"

"I did. It wouldn't be right to make such a big decision by myself." Rita admitted.

"Was that the only reason you agreed?" Lincoln inquired. "The lawsuit stuff?"

Rita didn't answer immediately. She looked at him and seemed to be conflicted about what to say.

"No…" she deflated. "Not entirely."

"So…what's the other reason? I promise you, mom. I won't tell a soul."

"I believe you…." Rita glanced aside, looking like she was embarrassed to talk any further.

After some hesitance, Lincoln added, "You know dad only said "yes" because he wanted to make you happy."

"I figured…" Rita replied, not seeming remotely surprised. "Though to be honest, I don't really know if it would?"

"Why? Do you want to go or not?"

"It's not that simple!" she raised her voice and slammed her palm against the nightstand.

She immediately grew a look of regret and tried to calm herself, visibly flustered.

"I'm sorry, it's jus'…" her voice was cracking. Lincoln could tell she was doing everything in her power not to look like a weak and pathetic mess in front of him, much like Lynn would.

"You just want a break?" he said understandingly, a guilty conscience gnawing at him. "I don't blame you for it, not one bit."

"…you know your father and I haven't had a day's rest in eons…our anniversary was ruined, we couldn't even have that." Rita managed to say. "I just want…don't you think we deserve a break from this…at least one?"

"You do, mom. You do." Lincoln got up and tried to comfort her. His reassurance eased her, but Rita still shielded half of her face, trying to hide the tear coming down her cheek.

"But we don't have to rely on Kathleen for this. We can organize our own trip, find some good camping site…"

"That would be expensive, Lincoln. Especially for a family as big as ours." Rita told him. "This is someone offering us a free vacation where we don't have to pay a dime."

"I know…but it's just…" Lincoln tried to explain. "She might be up to something else, she might be trying to hoodwink us…"

"I'm not stupid enough to sign any contracts without reading the fine print." Rita assured him. "From someone like her, I wouldn't even take any offer if it involved a contract period. And I'm wary of any "verbal agreements"."

"I know that, mom…" Lincoln stumbled. "But maybe she'll try something else?"

"Like what exactly? If she wants good PR, Kathleen can't resort to shady business tactics. She seems smart enough to know that."

Lincoln was struggling to think of any good argument without saying too much.

"Lincoln, I agree that Kathleen's trying to butter us up but you're acting like you're scared of her?" Rita inquired. "Is it because of what Luan said about her? Lincoln, have you considered that Luan might have been exaggerating? When people really hate someone, they're prone to do that."

"Mom, Luan's the only one who knows her personally? You know that Kathleen bullied her at school."

"I know, but for all we know, Luan's just as guilty for that feud of theirs. You and I both know she has a knack for making people mad at her with her callous pranks. She might have even started it."

"But, mom, we can't just assume she's in the wrong." Lincoln insisted, but his mother wasn't convinced.

"And why do you assume she's entirely innocent?" Rita countered. "Do you have any other evidence besides her word?"

Lincoln wanted to ask her if she trusted her own daughters, but stopped himself. She obviously didn't, the girls had broken that trust with their past actions. In fact, he was starting to think that Rita had become conditioned to mistrust them by default, as some kind of "failsafe" mentality in order to avoid escalating trouble.

"I…no." Lincoln glanced down. It was incredibly frustrating being unable to tell her what he knew without sounding crazy.

"Listen, Lincoln. I trust your judgment, and I promise you, once this is over, Kathleen won't be pestering us anymore, even if we have to get a restraining order." Rita assured him, her tone implying that she meant the last part as something of a joke.

"Okay, mom…" Lincoln sighed.

He didn't know how much of it was his inability to tell her the full truth and how much of it was his guilty conscience but Lincoln didn't press on. At least he knew his mother wasn't fooled by Kathleen's facade and was cognizant about the latter trying to trick them, but she was still falling prey to Kathleen's temptation. He couldn't exactly blame her. This was the exact kind of break he wished he could give his parents, but why did it have to be under such circumstances?

Regardless, there was no way out of this. Once more, it was up to him and his team to keep their eyes peeled, not knowing just what to expect from their enemy. The only thing Lincoln knew for certain was this would be a long, long week.

Two hours later, all lights were out at the Loud family's home. They all went to bed early, since they needed to get up at the crack of dawn. Lola and Lisa were no exception.

The former was sleeping soundly with a smile on her face. But Lisa was only pretending to be asleep and kept tossing and turning in her bed, observing her roommate.

After a prolonged silence, she flashed her flashlight at Lola's face and got no reaction. Satisfied, Lisa got up and tippy-toed towards the wall.

She knocked on it and it revealed a keypad, allowing her to type in the secret code. It opened a secret hatch, revealing Fenton, his optics glowing in the dark, guarding an invention covered by a white sheet.

"Good evening, Master. Lisa."

Lisa made a shushing gesture as Lola stirred. "Keep quiet, we have to discuss our course of action."

"Understood." Fenton literally lowered the volume of his voice. "Is operation "Brain Drain". Ready to commence?"

"Not yet." Lisa started tentatively and took off the sheet.

"All modifications to. The Translator-300 are completed. There is no further cause. For delay." Fenton pointed out. "Question. What new designation. Is to be bestowed upon. The device?"

"There is no new designation." Lisa's tone grew harsher. "There won't be a need for any new designations. But I can't use it tonight."

"Explain?"

"There's been a slight change in plans. My family's going on a last-minute vacation to Lake Michigan. Suffice to say, I can't take the helmet with me without arousing suspicion, so I need you to follow us, discreetly, and deliver it to me. I'll signal you when to bring it."

"Understood, Master." Fenton saluted her. "But I still don't. Fathom why it can't be done. Tonight? Inessential delay."

"It's not inessential…ughh…" Lisa grew frustrated but at the same, the question made her shed tears, as she looked away. "I decided…to spend at least another 24 hours with my family. In order to properly say farewell, and make sure there is no lingering bad blood between us."

She glanced at the slumbering Lola. "Though I doubt Lola will be receptive."

Fenton processed the information but he continued to pick up errors in his master's logic, causing question marks to appear on his optics. Her answers seemed to skirt around the core of his question.

"Forgive my boldness. Master Lisa. But I do not compute. Your response." The robot spoke. "Your goal is to. Lower your IQ. Correct?"

"Yes, that's the goal." Lisa said weekly. "To ensure no room for error, I made this device so mind-numbingly simple to operate, even the biggest imbecile could handle it."

She was referring to the switch on the helmet, which she turned to "Average Intelligence". No "Super Genius" or "Below Average" setting, the helmet was built for a singular purpose.

"You're talking. As if you're leaving. Your family?" Fenton asked again. "But you're merely. Lowering your intelligence?"

That did it for Lisa. "What do you want from me? I didn't program you to be so…prying!"

"I am not following. Your logic. Please elaborate?" Fenton said matter-of-factly. "I apologize for my. Inability to comprehend."

The crestfallen Lisa felt stupid for asking such questions, and hugged herself, as she was forced to confront the full gravity of her decision.

"Don't you understand?" her voice started cracking. "My IQ surpasses that of most adults? I think, I feel, I process the world in ways no other 3-year-old could even fathom. Once I lower my intellect to that of an ordinary child my age, my mental regression will be so drastic that my original self will surely be deleted. The Lisa Loud you know, that my family knows…she will cease to exist and I will essentially be a different person."

The A.I. still didn't comprehend what she was saying. How could you cease to exist unless you got vaporized by a laser? Even then, you would continue to exist as a smoldering pile of ash. Matter couldn't be destroyed, only transformed beyond all recognition. Transformed beyond all recognition?

"This would be analogous. To a computer being shut. Down. And installed with. An inferior. More rudimentary programming? Correct?" Fenton inquired, his processor trying to decipher the meaning behind his master's words the best he could.

Lisa sniffed. "Yes, that would be an adequate metaphor. I'm an anomaly in mental development. One that is clearly a mistake and a curse upon this world. So I aim to fix that."

"Master Lisa? You haven't considered an. Alternative solution?" Fenton questioned. "I may be unqualified. To judge. But this sounds like. The nuclear option?"

"What alternative solution? I almost caused the end of the world." Lisa said harshly, tears dripping down her face. "The only alternative would be to lock me up. As much as I hate myself, I'd prefer to be a normal, harmless, and inconsequential child instead of being incarcerated like the abomination I currently am."

Fenton's optics sported question marks again. "You're using the noun. "Abomination" metaphorically. As well. Correct?"

He promptly scanned her. "Because there are no. Alterations to your. Human biology. Besides your harry. Back."

Lisa wanted to scream but flinched as she heard Lola stirring. Luckily, she didn't wake up. Lisa became conscious that she was getting worked up and couldn't keep her voice down.

What was she hoping to accomplish? Trying to get the A.I. that was literally born yesterday to understand her emotional turmoil. As much as Lisa tried not to indulge in trivial emotions that might hinder her scientific work, she couldn't escape them. Perhaps ignorance truly was bliss? To be able to indulge in such things without overanalyzing them. That seemed to be the case with Darcy. She would soon know.

All she could do with Fenton was to assert her authority. Blunt facts were the only language he understood.

She glared at him. "No more questions. I'm your creator and you're going to obey my will. It's not your place to question me."

Her reasoning was sound, Fenton processed. It was not his place to question her, it went against his programming. For a second, the robot felt a sensation that could only be described as horror, for defying his own programming.

"My apologies. Master Lisa. I must be malfunctioning. Again." Fenton bowed down on his stumpy, little legs. "I shall follow your instructions. Without questioning. And perform self-repair. In the meantime."

"Better." Lisa sighed. "You stay close to us and wait for my signal. And after I've been fixed, you know what to do?"

"Affirmative. Perform self-destruction. Far away from you. And human civilization." Fenton assured her. "Codeword: Kamikaze."

It was midnight, and a full moon was gracing the sky. Most people in Royal Woods would be asleep at this time, allowing animals to roam free and exploit the area.

Raccoons were pillaging trash cans, but all of them looked up and scurried up the nearest house as a much larger beast appeared on the scene, its sheer size making it glaringly out of place in the suburbs.

Ravens perched on the treetops and watched the great predator traveling down the sidewalk, his presence making any feral dog or cat in the vicinity scatter and hide, turning the alleys deathly silent. All onlookers knew that something or someone was going to die tonight, good news for scavengers.

One Eye knew these streets like the back of his paw. He could allow himself to stroll at a leisurely pace, all the more time to enjoy the thrill of the hunt. His loyal vulture trailed him high in the sky, eager to spectate the show before dinner.

Not far away, someone else was roaming the streets, looking for the same target. But he didn't share the former's enthusiasm.

"Stupid….freaking bossy bitch…making me stand up late…" Lyle, in the same hustler getup as before, grumbled as he passed under various street lights until he arrived at his intended destination.

The darkness left no need to hide and made it all the easier to spot his target. The Taylors' house wasn't lit except for one room on the upper floor, but so was the adjacent treehouse, illuminated by what looked like a moving flashlight.

There he was, but now what was Lyle supposed to do? Watch Taylor until he made a move, he guessed. Kathleen told him to call after figuring out the enemy's travel plans. Watching behind some bushes, Lyle remembered that Taylor was sly and slippery, so he tried to maintain the element of surprise for as long as possible. Not out of cowardice but out of caution!

Grumbling, he climbed the tree nearest to the house and perched himself on the branch, leaning against the trunk and watching, his eyelids already feeling heavy.

At Ryan's treehouse, the place was already partially decorated. He had made his servants mount a mirror on the wall and build a simple bed frame, still lacking a mattress, and on the other side was a hammock. He hadn't had time to bring anything else up there, sans his newly-made dartboard of hate, the same one he and his teammates used during their victory party two days prior.

"Let's see…switchblade? Swiss army knife? Butterfly knife? Grappling hook? Stink bombs? Hmm…mustn't overpack?" Ryan was kneeling in the middle of it, checking his backpack with a flashlight in one hand.

"And flashlight of course." He turned it off and put it in, before noticing the starting pistol he brought as a souvenir lying by the bed frame.

Picking it up, he considered. "Should I take it? What do you think, Marcy?"

Marceline was rearing up on the window, scanning the surrounding area.

"Hmmm…might be a bit too nosy?" Ryan thought before glancing at the other window and peering into his sister's room. He spotted her in her gray pajamas.

Noticing him, she sent him a venomous glare, to which he casually leaned on the window frame and started chugging down a bottle of root beer.

Whether he had convinced her that he wasn't up to anything or if she was just too tired to think about it, it didn't matter, for Renee pulled down her blinds and soon switched off the lights.

"Yes. That's one less wrinkle in my travel plans." Ryan pumped his fist and looked at his cat.

"I'm certain you'll join me on my journey?" He walked up to her and petted her head. "You always liked the great outdoors, plenty of little rodents and birdies to gobble up."

But Marceline seemed to be in her own world, keeping her eyes peeled. Ryan had chosen to spend the night in his treehouse, to make sure his sister wouldn't interfere, unaware that he was making himself a sitting duck.

Ryan thought he knew what his pet's deal was and felt quite proud. That clever feline, nobody could sneak up on her.

Clearing his throat, he spoke, rather loudly, "It's lucky that I managed to snag this bus ticket to Muskegon, but the rest of the journey will have to be on foot." Ryan was flaunting said ticket before holding up a pet carrier. "But you'll have to stay in here if you wish to tag along. Sorry."

It got Marceline's attention, her pupils shrank and her ears dropped. She hated confined spaces.

Lyle snorted. "That freak's talking with his cat? He's crazier than I thought."

He had what he was looking for, but Lyle stayed, entertaining an alternative course of action. If he waited for Taylor to fall asleep, he could jump him! Maybe push him out of his treehouse? Or break his legs? Yes! That would make both him and his partner quite happy. One less problem to worry about. But to his dismay, Taylor did not seem to be in any hurry to hit the hey. He just kept chatting with his cat.

Seething and shuddering in annoyance, Lyle had no option but to keep waiting. Good things came to those that wait.

But focusing on something in the face of boredom wasn't Lyle's strong suit, and after a while, he found himself dozing off as his head slumped against the trunk of the tree, snoring softly. No sooner did that happen, he went from the watcher to the watched.

"Son of a bitch…" Ryan said while observing the snooper through his binoculars. "So Kathleen did bust him out?"

"Meow."

"Oh, I know. Lynn's gonna be super pissed that Lucy was right." Ryan quipped before crumpling up the old train ticket he had forgotten to throw away. "But at least the moron thinks we're taking the bus, when we're actually going on foot all the way."

"Meow."

"Ah, don't be a crybaby." Ryan joked. "From what I hear, it will only be a 24-hour journey at most."

He pulled out his walkie-talkie. "Better brief the guys that we're dealing with a villain team-up…"

"Or…not?" Ryan stopped himself and mused while inspecting Lyle again with his binoculars. The latter was now snoring like a hog and his arms were dangling.

"Our bumbling spy fell asleep on the job. And in a tree." Ryan grinned ear to ear and leaned towards Marceline. "Would be a real pity if he fell down? I doubt he would do much walking for a while."

"Meow?"

"Exactly." Ryan rose up. "This is an opportunity we cannot waste!"

Marceline freaked out as she watched him walking towards the hatch.

"The dipshit will never know what hit him…" Ryan cackled gleefully, but before he could reach the steps nailed into the trunk, his cat jumped on his leg and bit it.

"Yow!" Ryan yelped and jumped on one leg before losing his balance and falling over, nearly through the hatch.

Clutching his chest as watched the 10-foot drop, he turned and glowered at Marceline. "What's gotten into you? Lyle's slated for some cripplin', not me!"

Marceline jumped around him and meowed frantically. Ryan could tell there was something wrong with her but for the life of him, he couldn't figure out what.

Glancing at the window, he asked, "Don't tell me you're spooked by that slumbering simpleton?"

Looking around, Marceline spotted the dartboard and ran towards it, much to Ryan's confusion.

"It's a night like these that make me wish I was Dr. Dolittle…" he snarked to himself when his cat returned, carrying a certain drawing in her jaws.

One with the word bubble saying "RAWR! I eat my own doo-doo!"

Ryan took it and scratched his head "One Eye?"

He looked back at his cat, who had her ears down and was quivering. Seeing Marceline scared like this was a rare sight.

His brow furrowed. The answer he got only led to more questions. "You're scared of that cur?"

"Meow!"

With an incredulous chuckle, he tried petting her. "Relax, I got rid of him for good. That cur's deader than…."

Marceline went agape. Her pupils dilated, her back hair bristled and her tail puffed up as she backed away from his hand.

A sense of unease overtook Ryan before he heard a deep growl and felt warm breath blowing against the back of his head.

The hairs on his neck stood up and he tilted his gaze towards the mirror, where he saw a large head, partially obscured by his own body.

Black as the night, pointy ears, yellow eye, and a maw of sharp fangs stretched into a savage grin.

"….dead?"

Cliffhanger.

Well, these last two chapters were kind of downbeat, but worry not. The humor and absurdity will return going forward. With Lisa's subplot, the dark analogy should be obvious here, so much so that even her hopelessly subservient A.I. servant can see the error in her trying to "erase her original programming", though he's also showing affection for his creator (which isn't grounded in cold, hard logic).

With Rita, I tried to avoid making her come off as too foolish when accepting Kathleen's offer, so I tried to make her reasoning more nuanced. On one hand, she's not ignorant of the fact Kathleen isn't what she seems (though she obviously doesn't suspect her to be a full-blown sociopath), given Kathy's tryhard nature, but also feels intimidated by some rich kid with clout constantly pestering her family, especially after two of her daughter's assaulted her, which would give said rich girl an easy excuse to take legal actions, but on the other hand, given her miserable home life, it's easy to understand why Rita would still be tempted by such an offer, especially since she's under the impression that she can exploit Kathleen's phony generosity without any consequences.