"She's new," Sparkle agreed. "She was a spoiled rich kid before her mom bumped off and her dad's some useless shit running around somewhere without her, hasn't got time for his own kid. I see her dancing sometimes, though, when she thinks she's alone. Like, ballet or something. She's pretty good. It's no wonder she gets along with the withered old crone."

"Yeaaaah, no," Sparkle snorted. "I'm pretty sure Raine only listens when you throw her off enough. Like, she pays attention easy enough, but she still knows better than anyone. Especially since I'm not exactly number one on the list of 'Mapleview Lanes' Top Ten Most Trustworthy People' or anything."

"Not too bad, I don't think," Sparkle decided, after a brief, thoughtful pause. "Like, I come in through the window a lot, but she's used to that by now, and I think maybe she's starting to learn when I'm saying complete bullshit to her."

A pause.

"Probably. By now she's gotta be, right?"

"Yeah, maybe, but you'd think the fact that I refuse to keep a story straight would at least tip her off," Sparkle offered. "I mean, like, confusing her when I get like that is even half the point."

Defense mechanisms for the win.

"Right? And I mean, of course she asked right after telling me what she was in for." A pause. "I'm gonna have to teach her not to answer questions like that, god. Real piece of work, you know? Kid's got a lot to learn."

And... lucky her, Sparkle was willing to teach her?

"Oh, fuck no," Sparkle laughed. "The only thing I should ever be professor of is, like, lockpicking or finding an open window. No, Rabbit is gonna learn by making stupid-assed mistakes, just like everyone else. I'm just going to be the catalyst, that's all."

Suuure.

"Not in this stupid neighbourhood," Sparkle replied, tossing his cigarette to the ground and grinding it out with his toe. "I mean, there's a shitload of tourist crap to take in, here, but you never really struck me as a 'sightseeing tours' kind of guy. You eat yet?"

"Yeah, we're not really a 'pazaak den and caninta' kind of city," Sparkle noted. "And this is not really a poker kind of neighbourhood. But there are some clubs that aren't shitty if you don't mind taking a cab or the bus or whatever to get there. I was kind of banking on not just bumming around Mapleview all day."

Because seriously, that would be a long, boring day of yelling at old farts.

Sparkle nodded as he turned for the front door.

"If we're in and out fast enough, we probably won't even run into Lewis or anything," he added, giving a little grin and traipsing across the lawn. "And most of the kids won't bother you. Like, they'll stare but they'll take off pretty quick unless we poke 'em, generally. It's the littler kids who are most interested in strange adults. They might hang around in the doorways."

Looking hopeful. That was the worst.

"Kitchen's past the living room, and through the door. It's, like, disgustingly sunny in there. Big windows to the backyard, like, half the neighbourhood can watch me fucking cooking, because they all need to know it's taco night or whatever. Sandwiches okay? I picked up some stuff last night and so far nobody's made off with it. Probably."

That might have changed in the past twenty minutes. It sometimes did.

"Yeah, there are some decent pizza places nearby," Sparkle shared as he led Atton through the place. "One that does this meat lovers you'd probably like. More meat than crust, and greasy as hell."

It was a nice house. Like, a nice house. The sort of house that people probably still talked about in reference to the last name of the person who had it built, that probably belonged to a doctor or somebody with a well-to-do business before Lewis had come along. People probably talked about it more now wondering where the hell the money had come from, because there was no way some group home owner from the middle of the asscrack of New Brunswick should have been able to afford it in the first place.

The inside was almost as nice as the outside, a few holes in the walls and some assorted clutter aside. The architecture itself almost made up for the furnishings, since it was obvious that if it hadn't looked lived in before Sparkle and company had moved in, it certainly did now. The foyer was host to more pairs of grubby, well-worn shoes than a house this fancy had any business keeping just beyond the front door. There were a few gratuitous paintings framed and hung on the walls, and all but one were a bit crooked, the picture frames themselves mostly mismatched. Somebody had been stubbing out cigarettes in a planter just beyond the shoes that was host to a somewhat lopsided Norfolk pine, and a lamp by the picturesque living room window had clearly been glued back together on at least one occasion.

Somebody had slashed the sofa cushions. Somebody else had tried to hide it by stitching them back together once, only to give up and run duct tape over them when they'd been slashed again, with some cigarette burns for good measure.

There was nothing of any real value in the living room. That was all presumably kept in the office just before the kitchen. The one with the handsome oak door that was no doubt kept locked, with Lewis' name displayed prominently on it on a placeholder piece of paper that had been taped up in anticipation of a nameplate that was still yet to come.

The kitchen, at least, was pristine. Just so long as one ignored the fact that all of the dishes were horribly mismatched, and somebody had left their dishes in the sink despite being told a hundred times or more that they weren't to keep doing that. Sparkle made a beeline for the fridge, and started spelunking in one of the vegetable crispers to see if his stash was still tucked away where he'd hidden it.

"Wouldn't blame you any for not wanting to hang around here if it comes to having to play scavenger hunt for stolen lunch meat, besides."

"Especially since the kid who hoards food is, like, twelve," Sparkle replied, quirking a little grin as he straightened up again, a paper-wrapped bag of deli meat in hand. "Looks like someone got to some of it, but left enough for us to still have, like, four sandwiches each. I went nuts, just in case."

He glanced Atton's way.

"Cheese, mustard, mayo? You gonna complain if I cut a tomato for this?"

He'd decided not to bother at all with lettuce. Sneaking greens into Atton's lunch didn't seem like a great way to convince him to maybe visit again sometime.