BROKE

Sigh. He’s gonna have to pick this up at some point. He glares at the landline for a moment before grabbing it.

“Chappy, look.” His voice is tired, and it immediately sounds as if he’s continuing an earlier conversation. “I told you before. I’m too busy and sixteen isn’t an important birthday, it’s completely arbitrary unless I were driving and I’m not getting my hours in the van.”

Somebody please save him from himself.

“I sure hope no one else is trying to get a hold of me…”

“…Nah, I don’t really get many phone calls. It’s probably fine!”

“NO, Uncle Chappy, for the tenth time, you are not taking me to a haunted pizza parlor for my birthday!”

blyndff​:

“ i have a knife,  &&.  a gun. “

To be fair, he doesn’t actually get a lot of direct phone calls. At least, ones that aren’t from the office or about his nonexistent car’s extended warranty.

Sylvie’s more than a little surprised to hear the familiar voice, eyes widening. Yes, she’d visited him in the hospital just like she’d said she would, but…he’d assumed she was just being nice, that they’d part ways never to see each other again, because after all, it was convenient for her to pretend to be friends with him to get through the night, but look at how he’d greeted her the first time–

Wait, how long had he been silent?

“Oh! Margaret!”

Sylvie, no.

“Yeah, of course I remember you.” It’d be hard for him to forget, shock or no.

He raises a hand to his chest at her comment, wincing slightly–he knows, logically, that there’s no way he could actually feel the cracks where his ribs came apart, but he swears he does. “I’m…fine. Just–gotta let everything heal on its own now!” He sounds a little like he’s trying to convince himself.

He’s about to remind her about his earlier offer when what she says next floors him. Hang…out? He knows what it means, of course, but…why? Why would she want to hang out with him? What does…hanging out entail?

“Um–yeah–yeah, I’m good for the rest of today? Did you…have anything in mind?”

“ huh? “   how is he still getting it wrong?   “ n- no. not margaret ;   molly. molly wolly doodle all the day. so, just molly. “   she winces upon recalling her full first name. she’ll never understand her parents. 

he’s been awfully quiet after she first spoke, so in turn she takes her time processing his stutters rather than her usual rapid-fire returns. maybe he was hesitant? she couldn’t blame sylvie, not when she had been so distrusting of him when they first met as well. her finger goes to play with a phone cord, y’know the ones. those spiral cords rotaries usually have? except, well. she’s on her cell phone, so that just doesn’t happen. instead she awkwardly scratches her lip. oops.

“ oh, you’re free? that’s! okay, cool. i can work with that! my shift ends in roughly fifteen minutes, assuming my dad doesn’t flake out on me. which. he won’t. because either way, i made plans to go out to lunch. “   there’s a pause.   “ i’m winking, i don’t think that’s.  .  .  conveyed well over calls. “   right! lunch, it’s nearly mid-afternoon. hopefully sylvie has a little time to go out  &&.  about. 

huh … ?!

> his initial surprise isnt , , , , well , surprising . he’s quite unfortunately very well known for not thinking most things through . a.k.a , blindly barreling into battle bereft of backup in case things blew up .

well … . erm . i guess thats right , but how exactly should i disguise myself , beartrap ? im still pretty recognizable even in regular clothes , ya'nno ? or d'you think that could be enough t'fool her ?

“ well, no. i don’t think casual wear would fool her. you’ve got a point. very recognizable. not that that’s a bad thing under normal circumstances! “   molly waves her hands out, trying to smooth over any rough bumps made by that proclamation. thoughts bubble up in her head, a finger hooking under her lip as she admires giovanni’s current attire. should be the bonsai captain uniform, if she remembers right. 

“ uh.  .  .   well, i’ve got an idea, though i don’t know how my dad might like it. then again, uh. he’s not the one paying the bills. “   molly reaches into her pocket, producing her phone  &&.  pulls out the calculator app. she punches in a few numbers, totals up what’s to be expected.  .  .  then sighs in relief.   “ yeah, i think i could manage this.  .  . “

yeah , i have been pretty busy ! though i havent been so much on the run from that officer lady so much as i have been totally different people ! which is a li'l odd , now that i think of it , but like i said ! too busy trynna keep that shooter of hers outta my face to worry about it too much !

> and there he goes , leaving maybe a couple pretty important details out of his statements .

as for you ! you should probably try to take it easy , yeah ? all-nighters or not , dont work yourself too hard ! those are a lotta hours to work all at once , y'know !

ah, taking it easy wasn’t exactly. . .  well, easy. molly visibly deflates at giovanni’s suggestion, as though her backpack suddenly filled itself with rocks  &&.  nothing else. shoulders slack, an exasperated sigh breaching her lips as voice takes on a more offended tone. not due to bossman, but from her own family’s problems. 

“ yeah.  .  .  yeah! i know. believe me, i know.  .  .   sometimes i wish my dad understood what he’s doing is, y’know. wrong? but i guess we can’t always get what we want. or need. “   that said, she quickly resurrects at the thought back to the bonsai’s last words before advising her. wait, he’s on the run from someone with a gun? isn’t that. y’know. dangerous?

thumbs glosses over the embroidered letters on cardstock, peach colored orange cursive stuck out like a sore thumb. was this his own signature, or some high quality text font found online? molly doesn’t have much time to give word font any more thought as sylvie picks up over the line. oh, she. hadn’t expected him to pick up after two rings. not even, actually  -  it was more like one  &&.  a half. her voice stutters, unsure of how to properly convey her tone just yet.

“ oh! uh --  hi, this is. molly! molly blyndeff. from the museum? “   better to jog his memory first, since he might’ve had a pretty serious concussion when they last chat.   “ i was just calling to see how you made it! like, out of the hospital? i hope it was a fast recovery, you uh. you looked pretty worse for wear. “   was it rude to comment on how he got his butt beat by the fake museum lady? mera, right? 

molly is narcoleptic, medically speaking. yes, she has insomnia both from her endless hours of work and also from her lack of proper sleep schedule, so sleeping is like russian roulette for her.

molly makes her allowance, which in reality is her store wages in disguise, and has to financially manage more than she's capable of. she chips in most of the bills for the store, pays for groceries and essentials, and often goes without hot water due to conserving energy for future billing. this, on top of managing store inventory, as well as schoolwork often has her head running through the mud.

molly was close to her family once, but that was before her mom's passing. ever since the fire, molly's been elaborately fearful of flames of any kind as well as detached herself from her home life, leaving her relations with her father and sister fractured mostly due to molly's own dissociation and lack of confidence. she feels she is the heel of her family and lets them down if she can't keep them afloat. she has taken on the woman figurehead in her home due to her sister being caught up in her childish imagination.