—TROUBLE

The question wasn’t something that people asked him too often, or at all, so he wasn’t sure how to answer. That, and he wasn’t sure how to feel, either. “Do I like my parents?” he repeated, as if to buy him more time. “Well, of course I like my parents. You’re not supposed to not like your parents— they’re your parents!” he said, anyway, looking over the fact that while his own mother and father hadn’t been exactly the best anyone could have, he was cared for a significant amount than, say, someone who’d been abandoned or mistreated.

Grace let out a little humorless laugh at his optimism, a small, sad smile spreading across her lips. “Life-givers, right? They choose to procreate for their own ego, and then you spend the rest of your life having to thank them for it...” 

“Always a class act, Walsh.” The male commented, before cocking a brow at the other, “A woman who enjoys the strip club, I’m liking you more and more each time.”

“That’s why I do it. I crave male approval,” she rolled her eyes teasingly. Usually, a statement like that would be enough to set her off on a tirade, but she decided against it. That didn’t mean she would let the comment slide, though.

As much as he found the other’s remark humorous, his amusement was a bit subdued by his worry that she thought those were his intentions. “Sorry. I don’t know why I assumed you were twelve or something.”

Luckily, Grace was not the kind to be offended so easily. “Eh, I guess I’ll look back on this one day when I’m all old and wrinkly, and reminisce on the good old days,” she shrugged. “So thanks from from the future elderly...” 

“Punch me?” Libby’s eyebrows pinched together in worry before she took a glance around the bar. Surely Grace was joking, right? “Then.. maybe I-I shouldn’t be here, if people want to punch me.”

“It’s an expression, love,” Grace chuckled lightly. “Christ, you’re like a little lost lamb. You really shouldn’t be drinking on your own...” 

“It’s that what makes it all the more fun?”

“Eh, and if I get drunk off my ass, I’m killing two cliche’s with one stone,” Grace shrugged nonchallantly, as if that was just the way of the world. 

“I think I’d rather die young and still pretty-ish. Nothing bloody. I don’t want to die alone in an ld folks home. My mom won’t even drop coffee off by me, she says its too depressing. Family doesn’t really visit,” she sighs,”: Thankfully we do volunteer programs so they get someone to talk to that’s not us.”

“Family’s hardly good for anything,” Grace responded pessimistically. Sure, her grandparents had managed to turn her opinion around a bit in the end, but even they eventually left her. “How exactly do you bribe volunteers to do that depressing shit? I don’t think I ever could...” 

                         “I’ve spend far too many days in one, I’ve lost count. I could think of a better way to spend it though and it includes shopping.”

“You do know the one thing that could lure me away from naked flesh,” Grace smirked wickedly. “You offering to join me?” 

“I didn’t feel like socialising.” Libby mused, as she glanced over at the other. “But I-I guess it wouldn’t be the worst to drink.. with someone.”

“That’s the spirit,” Grace grinned. “I’m doing you a favor actually. You were bumming the whole bar out so much, I’m pretty sure you were going to get punched...” 

“What were you planning on stripping for all the sex deprived fathers?”

“Sorry, mate,” Grace smirked. “I’m more of a private audience, mutually reciprocal type stripper... This would be for my own enjoyment.” 

“–long as you don’t go with your dad, because that’d just be weird.”

“Good note,” Grace nodded. “Sort of impossible, though. Considering he’s dead.” It was a matter of fact stated flatly. 

He didn’t know much about her, and he only realizing just now that this was the first time either of them had ever said anything beyond greetings and trivial things that dealt with the impersonal. “That was really nice of him,” he said, giving her a warm smile at the memory, unknowing of what it really meant. “My dad never brought home cake. He said I eat too much sweet things and got mad at my mom a lot because she’d let me.” He shrugged. “But I’m an adult now, and I can do whatever I want, and that includes eating all the chocolate cake I can eat.”

Usually, she would have bit out something about how nothing her father ever did was nice - nothing was without its own self-service to him. Well, actually, she usually wouldn’t have said anything in the first place, but Casey was changing up all her rules, it seemed. “Indeed,” she agreed instead, waving over the waiter and putting in the order. Turning back to Casey, she struggled for a moment with what else to say. “Your parents sound like they care. Do you like them?”  

“It’s not an ideal place to commemorate Father’s Day…” Duncan muttered politely, “but whatever floats your boat.” 

“There’s a socially prescribed ‘ideal way’ to celebrate a commercialized holiday?” Grace quirked a brow amusedly. She was more than a little bitter about the whole practice, and would honestly like nothing more than to dismantle it single-handedly. 

“Do you want me to call the police or something?” He asked, pulling his phone out, vaguely terrified that she was offering to kill him. That was so much worse. “911, only three numbers.” 

“Congrats! You can count,” she rolled her eyes patronizingly. “Shall we move on to the alphabet now? Let’s start with the letters ‘N’ and ‘O’...” 

“Isn’t it just another day anyway? Another lazy Sunday?” Holidays like Mothers and Fathers seemed irrelevant to Liliana. So it seems where Grace was speaking didn’t hit far from home. “But, you should do it and tell me how it goes,” commented Liliana, shrugging. 

“Oh no,” Grace chuckled. “If I go, I’m taking you with me. You owe me for skipping out on our last night out!” 

“Nah. I think it would be weird if you ask them to call you daddy. Other than that, I don’t see anything wrong with it.”

“Oh please,” Grace scoffed. “I deal with people fucked in the head all day, and it’s the daddy kink I think is the most crazy...”