Sunday, August 26th

A glass chandelier hung from the high ceiling, it's sharp glass edges pointed downward at the long clothed tabled. And yes, the thought of it coming loose off it's hinges was enough to make Marceline shiver. Comparing that to the elephant in the room, the chandelier was the least of her worries.

The sound of colliding silverware against fancy china reverberated against the empty walls of the dining room. To Marceline, the silence was deafening. There was no conversation, no music, yet both of their minds were filled with subjects that didn't need to be brought up. Unfortunately, small talk wasn't something either of them could pull off. So it stayed silent for the time being.

Simon would be back any minute with fancy wine and lemon water. Then the silence wouldn't be so hellish. Simon was a buffer. He knew that. He's always known that. For years now, her relationship with her father was practically nonexistent. How could their relationship change in the slightest with his lack of compassion, his glares...In fact, he was glaring at that very moment.

In all honesty, she wished her father hadn't accepted Simon's offer to come to Sunday night dinners. Sunday night dinners were for playful conversations. For anything but this.

Her father's stature was tall, wide at the shoulders, and his stomach was flat at the moment. She remembered in her childhood he used to have a beer gut. His face was now thin, clean-shaven and his hair was...decently thick in proportion to the slight balding.

He just watched her from the other side of the table, occasionally giving a weird smile when she looked up from her plate. She hated this.

When Simon stepped through the doorway, her eyes snapped up, a smile finally visible. He had brought back a 2006 Jasper Hill Emily's Paddock Shiraz. She only knew that because it was one of Simon's favorites. Since red meat was common in his household, a glass of fruity wine was always a great mix. Or at least that's what Simon had always told her.

Setting down three wine glasses he poured two glasses with the Shiraz and one with lemon water, promptly handing it to Marceline.

She had never been a huge fan of alcohol. Beer, in her opinion, tasted like someone shit in a can. The wine wasn't as bad. The fruitiness covered up the dry dirt feel in her mouth, but overall, she wouldn't drink it on an occasion.

She thanked Simon and took a sip, before digging into her steak once more.

"So," Simon started, handing out the wine glass for her father. "How is University treating you so far?"

She took another sip of water. "You mean besides the roommate ordeal?" She joked, a soft smile displayed on her lips. Civil, she was playing off a smooth and delicate façade of lies, to her father's demands. He wasn't a fan of sassy or abrupt noises, along with most other things to his conservative ordeals.

Simon gave a low chuckle, taking a seat at the head of the table. "Besides that."

"It's been pretty uneventful. The assignments are as easy as can be."

Folding his hands in front of him, Simon switched to dean mode, as he always did when anything school-related came up. "In what way?"

Rolling her eyes, she set the glass down on the table cloth. "I mean than I already know all the material. It has nothing to do with the teaching or lack thereof." She glanced up at her father, whose eyes were stuck on her every movement. It was creepy as hell. "I've always been more advance than other students, Simon." Another chuckle escaped her lips. "You know that."

Hutson's eyes wavered before fixing themselves on something different. He swirled the wine, eyes concentrated solely on gravity's bond with the way the liquid circled inside the glass.

"Mm-Marceline."

She gulped. There was no telling what he could possibly bring up. Last time he was over the only thing he talked about was work, which was pretty boring. But the time before led to an argument about what she was wearing, as a lot of their conversations led to.

It wasn't as if she was wearing anything inappropriate. She just hadn't expected him to be over, so she wore long pj bottoms and a tank top, as she usually did. Well, he didn't think that was the best attire for the dinner table. Formal every waking moment of the day was his style. Not hers. Not anymore.

"Yes?" She asked, taking a sip of water to ease her dry throat.

His eyes struck her hard, she categorized it as a glare, as most of his looks cracked down to.

"Have you thought about my proposal?" Oh right, the proposal.

When he was on the topic of his job last time they had talked, he made a job offer. Well, a future job offer. She would take his place as a business owner.

Just like last time, "It's not my thing." was her answer.

He took a nice swig of his drink, as if it deeply upset him that she wouldn't take the opportunity. Oh wait, it did. "But have you given it any thought?" He questioned a little harder. The intimidation tactic, nice Dad.

"I wouldn't be happy."

Before Hutson could interject, Simon quickly asked, "What about Marshal?"

Marceline ignored the conversation about then and started thinking. Though she wanted to be home to see Simon, her father was too much for her. Thankfully he wouldn't be over for the next few weeks. Something to do with a business trip.

"And why isn't he here?" Hutson's yelling came soaring over her thoughts. God, he's always so loud.

"Work," She intervened, sipping at her water. "Just like last time."

"Was he not able to get off?"

Marceline tried to be the most reserved she could. With Marshal's sexual history, it was hard not to make jokes about his weird kinky...whatever it is. So sex jokes were only made in her head, though she was bound to tell someone later, most likely Keila.

With a small smirk, she shook her head and took yet another sip of water. It was only necessary to hold back her comments.

"Well, you can tell him next time if he doesn't come, I definitely won't consider him to take over in my absence." He looked down and cut into his dinner nonchalantly.

With her father's dry sense of humor, it was sometimes hard to catch the jokes. Hopefully, that was one. Marshal's dream was to take over the company, but he pursued history as their father made it clear that he didn't want him to. No amount of begging from anyone would do any good either. Then again, it wasn't as if he ever catered to their father either. It was always about rebelling. It wasn't that he wasn't a bright student, he just didn't care. Hutson didn't like that one bit.

A look of frustration crossed over Simon's face. Maybe he was starting to regret this too.

"You know that's not the smartest idea on your part. As you know, pasts can always be redeemed, and passion is sometimes the best way to go. He's chocked full of it." Simon tried to laugh, lightening up the mood as he took a decent gulp of wine.

"Maybe I don't see him as a good investment." Hutson pried, hinting at something Marceline wasn't sure of. Simon's face fell.

Clink. The rocker's silverware was thrown against her plate. "He's your son." She boomed, her voice echoing inside the wide dining space. "He's not an investment like stocks or whatever fuck people invest in-"

"Marceline watch your language-"

She continued. "I don't want your fucking job offer, but he does. So take your head out of your ass and invest some time into reading him for that position." She finished by slamming her fists into the table.

To say the least, he was taken aback by her outburst. His eyes were wide, mouth slightly agape as he stood. His mood instantly changed as he clenched his jaw, tight. Fingers wound against the fabric of the table to contain some of his anger, he muttered something under his breath. Instantly Marceline knew it was about her being a spoiled brat. That was always his go-to phrase.

Marceline took in a deep breath and sat back down. Her anger was getting the best of her. There was no denying that. She sipped at her drink, eyes averted as her father was practically fuming. "Thank God I don't worry about impressing you anymore."

It hit him hard. She could see that in the way his nose scrunched up and his eyebrows came closer together, oh and the way his jaw dropped to the floor. He grabbed his jacket from the back of his chair and made his way toward the door.

"Hutson-" Simon tried.

"I think I should take my leave Simon, I thought this time I would have better company." He spat, directed toward his daughter. His stance wavered, as if he wanted to finish with his two cents, then decided against it.

Agreed. She started eating her meal nonchalantly, Simon glaring as Hutson found his way out with a slam of the door.

"You could have tried," Simon stated, trying to keep his own anger down.

Waving her fork around, she swallowed the last piece of her dinner. "We're both stubborn Simon. There's no sense of trying to change it."

"To better yourself?"

"Hey," She gave a small pout. "Keila loves my stubbornness."

"More tolerance than love. But yes, I suppose you're right in some way." He sighed, finding his way back to a chair. "May I ask where Marshal really was?"

A smirk lightened up her face. "Where do you think he is?"

Simon instantly nodded, putting his head down on the table. "Damn that boy."


Monday, August 27th

"Yes, I'm sure mom." Bonnie yawned, straightening up her bedsheets. "You can just put money on the card, you don't need to come down." The room went silent as she listened, grabbing the phone from in between her face and shoulder. Her mom always worried too much about her. "I can take someone with me-yes I have friends." She rolled her eyes at her mom's remark, making her way over to her desk so she could study before her exam.

Pulling out one of her Physics books, she scrambled to the right chapter.

"Well, will you at least show me the outfits you pick out? I don't want all of them to be pink."

Bonnie snickered, leaning against the side of the desk. "I promise I'll get other colors too no worries. I was thinking of going black." She joked.

Marceline walked in then, throwing her books on her desk and face-planting onto Bonnie's newly made bed. It must have been another rough weekend for her. She hadn't come back on Sunday as she usually did, now she just looks...torn from the inside out.

"Hey mom, can I call you back?" She watched Marceline while her mom replied, even though there wasn't much to watch since she wasn't moving. "Alright, love you too, uh-huh, bye."

Not even caring enough to hit the end button, she sat beside where Marceline collapsed, rubbing her shoulder to null her thoughts. Although she was concerned as to why Marceline was on her bed, she decided not to push it.

"How bad was it?" She asked.

Muttering into her pillow Marceline gave a quick and decisive, "Complete shit." Bonnie didn't think she could have said it any faster. Though Bonnie knew the a little bit of her background, she barely knew enough to ask the questions needed to help her.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

The rocker looked up from the bedsheets and stared at Bonnie. "Why the hell would I do that?"

She didn't know whether to take offense of that or not so she went with a calmly stated, "Because bottling things up isn't good for you."

The roll of Marceline's eyes were a bit over-exaggerated. "I could always talk to Keila, thank you." Bonnie thought by now she would at least be more open to the idea of being friends, or at the very least civilized, but Bonnie was yet to figure out Marceline. She was a book written in a completely different language. It just so happened that Bonnie was multilingual.

"Will you be okay enough for class?"

The rocker looked up. "What do you mean?"

"Are you going to class today? I wanted to see if I could copy notes off of you later."

Marceline gave a hard stare as if trying to decide whether to please the pinkette rather than not. "I'll be fine." She caved in, turning over onto her back. "Where will you be?"

"Oh, is someone worried about me?"

Marceline rolled her eyes and sat up. "Hardly, I just want to know if you'll be here after class so I can invite Keila in to..." Her thoughts scattered, eyes lingering around the room as if remembering something. "Organize my space."

"I don't mind if she's in here. I thought you would know that by now."

Marceline shrugged and turned her head away. "That's not the problem. I just don't want your nerdiness to draw her away." She snickered. It was Bonnie's turn to roll her eyes.

"See you after class?"

Marceline gave a nod, cuddling into Bonnie's sheets childishly, closing her eyes.

Bonnie took the chance to leave quickly before she woke Marceline.


Review time!

LecojO3: I changed it. You might wanna look at that. And the mood changed because it's been two weeks. The Lillian thing, yeah, she's a bit flirty. She flirts with anything that moves...or at least has sexual organs.

GuestFebby: Hm, adorable sappy moments you say...*scribbles down notes* Hm, interesting, yes I see.