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Caritas, Wednesday Night

Jarod opened the bar with trepidation, wondering if it would be as ~~weird~~ busy as Monday. To occupy his mind, he began to make a mental list of ways Parker was going to kill him once she found out he was involved in what happened to her father's car.

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The zombies are here and had nothing to do with anything duck related.

*ring*

This should be... interesting.

"Good evening, Caritas."

"I'm back. And you have some questions to answer. Where were you the night of July 3?"

He grimaced. "Could you be more specific about the time?"

Parker's snicker escaped her totally against her will. "Sometime between sunset and dawn? Ahem." She tried to sound stern. "Serious charges are in the offing here, buster."

"Oh?" He tried innocent.

"Trespass. Graffiti. Terrifying subordinates by proxy. Amusing the hell out of two people, one of whom said he really liked the 'sparkles.'" Another snicker. "All of which doesn't mitigate the fact that anyone who'd been caught doing that would've been in for a world of hurt."

"Then it's good whomever it was wasn't caught," he smirked, glad Sydney had appreciated it. "Who was amused?"

"I am a bad daughter." Enough said.

Jarod bit his tongue hard enough to draw blood so he didn't respond to that the way he wanted to. "Enjoying a good prank doesn't make you a bad daughter, Parker."

"Maybe not." She was quiet a second, then said, "He hates driving the Jag when it's a business weekend. He thinks it's too flashy. I kept thinking, 'well, you could always buy another car....'" She chuckled. "But that doesn't mean it wasn't a stupid risk, you know. For whoever did that."

"It was a calculated risk, Parker." He shook his head, "and exactly what about his original car didn't scream flashy?"

"It was understated, it was classy, it was burgundy...." Parker actually kind of agreed, since any Benz screams I have more money than I know what to do with. "It was a lot prettier after you and Isabel got through with it."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," he grinned, "but it would have looked a lot better if we'd been able to turn on the lights."

"I got photos. I deplore the risk to safety and liberty and being mutilation-free that someone took, but still, the end result? Highlight of my weekend. Seriously."

That's what he'd been afraid of. "How'd the rest of it go?"

Parker scratched behind Esme's ears, thinking. "Mr. Valentin of the Russian consortium was impressed with my translating. The junior execs started out full of themselves, then deflated over the course of four days. By the end of the camping trip, and the fishing, and the hiking, half of them were acting like Broots does around me, and the other half visibly wanted me dead. I think the traps were the last straw." She grinned, savoring the memory.

Quiet for a minute, Parker finally blurted out, "And I asked my father about my twin."

"And?" He'd ask about the traps later.

"He died." Parker sighed. "The day we were born. He's buried in a plot at the Centre-- which I hate, he should be near Mom-- and the marker doesn't even have a name on it." She swallowed. "I'm not speaking to my father at the moment."

His heart broke for her. Damn it, couldn't she have one family member on her side? "I'm so sorry, Parker."

Parker drew a shaky breath. "Thanks. I didn't realize how disappointed I was, until Daddy told me what happened. He wasn't even there, but..." She grimaced. "I know he's still hurting about it. But I'm too angry he didn't tell me. That Mom didn't either. I'm so sick of this, Jarod."

"I wish I could do more for you." Like shake her father until he rattled. "You know that, right?"

"I think giving me a laugh, after this weekend? Was more than enough. It gave me the courage to ask him about my brother." She smiled a little, tired, hoping he could hear it in her voice. "And I decided I don't want to know about the tests for me and the Pretender program. There's no good answer there. We'd only fight about it. Maybe I'll ask him... in about a million years." She closed her eyes. "So. What do you want for your birthday?"

Jarod blinked. He'd never had to consider that before. "I have no idea."

"Well, think about it. It's only 48 hours away. How can I fulfill your wishes and dreams, if you won't tell me what they are?"

"You already do, Parker. Just by being yourself."

Okay, that? Was not fair. Parker put her head down on her knees for a second, and laughed breathlessly. "You are so getting lucky on your birthday, buster. Which fulfills one of my dreams nicely, so just take a moment to appreciate the synchronicity."

He grinned. "I'm appreciating."

Parker snickered. "You should be. Right. Be prepared for me to show up on Friday with plans, plans, plans. Also, cake. Also, surprises." She took a breath. "I wish you could've been there this weekend. But it's almost enough to just come back here to you now."

Jarod didn't know what to say to that--he wouldn't promise that he'd always be there to come home to, but he wouldn't lie and there were no guarantees in his life. "I wish I could have, too. And I was. Sort of."

Parker grinned. "I got a photo of Daddy's face. If you're very, very nice to me, I'll let you see it."

"I can be very, very, very nice when I want to be."

"So I remember," Parker purred. "Talk to you tomorrow, Almost-Birthday-Guy. Think of presents tied up in bows. And think of me."

And now he was thinking of Parker tied in a bow and wondered how many health codes it would violate if he just stuck his head in the ice bin.

"When do I not?"

A low chuckle. "Byeeee."

"Pleasant dreams, Parker."

Jarod's here, or you can mod Tino.

Couches are here, awaiting your tushes.

OCD ender!

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Caritas, Wednesday Night

The Band

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The Bar

The Lounge

OOC