Booker peered blearily into the pot, stifling a yawn as he waited for the milk to warm up for Anna. It'd been a long night at the bar, and he'd only gotten a few hours of sleep. He wanted nothing more than to return to his chair, lean back and sleep, but he knew from dread experience that Anna would wake soon, and if she didn't have her milk, she would be very cranky indeed.
Even if he had not been working all night, Booker was not a morning person by any means, and he found himself in desperate want of a mug of coffee. His supply was out, however, and given that he now had to support three people on his meagre pay, it looked like he would have to forgo that luxury.
Booker sighed forlornly, scratching absently at his stubble as his gaze wandered around his office, which had been doubling up as his office for a few years. The morning sun's rays were just starting to filter in through the blinds on his windows. His gaze fell upon the trunks in the corner – where there'd once only been a single trunk containing most of his possessions, now there were two, the second and newest addition being Elizabeth's own, brought into the apartment through a tear, courtesy of the Luteces. It bore an elegant and elaborate design, not unlike those they'd seen while travelling around Columbia.
He grimaced at the thought, for they had really only started to come across the trunks in great number during the Vox Populi revolution, which brought with it senseless brutality and death. He looked away from the trunks, shifting his gaze to the lone bed in the opposite corner of the apartment, where Elizabeth was asleep.
Booker jumped slightly at the sound of bubbling behind him, cursing under his breath as he whirled around and grabbed the pot off the stove. He heard Elizabeth stirring from her slumber as he poured the milk into Anna's feeding bottle.
"Mmm…" Elizabeth yawned, stretching languidly, "Good morning, Booker."
"Hm." He grunted in reply. Yep, definitely not a morning person. "Had a good sleep?" He added moments later, deciding that he should at least make an attempt at being polite. He turned around to see Elizabeth sitting at the edge of the bed, blinking the sleep out of her eyes as she peered at him.
"Better than yours, apparently." She frowned at Booker's haggard appearance. "We can share the bed, you know, I'm not squeamish about it."
"It's fine." Booker shook his head, his tone firm. "My shift ends late, and I'd just wake you. And I know that we DeWitts do not appreciate having their sleep disrupted." He added with a smirk.
Elizabeth chuckled, but found herself a little uncomfortable at the thought of Booker now having to sleep in the chair due to her added presence. It can't be good for his back, she reasoned. "I think we should get another bed."
"I would, but my job doesn't quite pay as well as a prophet's." Booker said wryly, and the two of them grinned at the memory of coming across documents detailing Columbia's ridiculous 50% tax. "Still, it's definitely something I'm saving up for. I've asked for more shifts at work, so don't worry, this living arrangement will just be for a little while longer."
Elizabeth sighed, watching as Booker went into Anna's room to feed her. She was definitely on the lookout for a job, but she wasn't sure what exactly she could do – she doubted that saying 'I was imprisoned in a tower for 20 years' would endear her to potential employers. And telling people that I can pick locks would probably raise alarms instead of prospects, she thought to herself.
Elizabeth supposed that she could go into singing, perhaps at a club? After all, Sander Cohen had said that her singing was rather exceptional, and even if the man was a lunatic, his eccentric brand of artistic sense had to count for something, right? But that would take some time, and it certainly wouldn't aid with the immediate situation at hand.
Sitting on the bed, Elizabeth frowned to herself, unhappy at knowing that there was nothing she could do at the moment. Then she blinked. Or maybe there was…
Pushing herself off the bed, Elizabeth made for her trunk, rummaging around in it. She made a triumphant sound as she found what she'd been looking for – a small satchel, the one she'd carried in Rapture to place whatever she managed to scrounge up. Opening it, she peered inside and smiled.
"What's that you've got there?" Booker asked curiously, coming out of Anna's room with an empty bottle. Elizabeth stood up with a broad grin, shaking the satchel, and the satchel jingled tellingly.
"Catch!" She called, tossing the satchel over. Booker raised a hand and caught it out of the air, almost entirely out of reflex, his mind filled with memories of having done the same numerous times in Columbia. He raised an eyebrow at her.
"I hope these aren't bullets, we're not in that bad of a situation, you know." Elizabeth rolled her eyes.
"Just open it, Booker." Shrugging, he took a look inside. Then another.
And then another.
He looked up with a gob-smacked expression. Elizabeth smiled proudly.
"W-what is this? Elizabeth, did you rob someone?" He asked in shock, and Elizabeth's smile immediately turned into a scowl.
"No!" She said indignantly. "I found those while I was in Rapture."
"You sure?" Booker asked as he fished out a handful of assorted rings and necklaces, all looking remarkably expensive. "Because it sure looks like you robbed a jewelry store." Elizabeth was about to protest, when she paused and a thoughtful expression came onto her face.
"Well…" She said, drawing out the word. "I guess technically that would be true. Though it would be more accurate to say multiple jewelry stores." Booker looked positively aghast at that, and she hastily added, "Ah, but those were all abandoned. You'd be surprised how much stuff people left behind when Andrew Ryan sunk Fontaine's Department Store."
Booker heaved a sigh of relief. "That's an impressive amount of stuff you scrounged up. They'd fetch quite a bundle at the pawnshop." Elizabeth grinned at the compliment.
"Well, I did learn from the best, after all." She said proudly, "A certain Mr DeWitt who, if I dare say so, ransacked the whole of Columbia from top to bottom."
"Hey! I did what I had to, given my limited resources." He said defensively. "You can't exactly fight off an entire damned army with your fists alone. And those vigor upgrades were stupidly expensive."
"Also, you ate a pineapple off a dead soldier once." Elizabeth said dryly. "Which was really disturbing, by the way."
"Never figured out why soldiers and policemen were carrying pineapples around in the first place…" Booker muttered.
Elizabeth coughed, changing the subject. "Anyway! I think that should cover our expenses for a good while." She said brightly. "Let it not be said that Elizabeth DeWitt does not provide for the family!" Booker stared at the satchel again, thinking deeply.
"You know, I could just stay here and take care of Anna while you provide for the family..."
Elizabeth smacked Booker on the arm.