— Success chance: 80%
— General results: Taylor and Danny will watch David Attenborough documentaries together, bringing them somewhat closer as father and daughter again.
— On a success: Taylor and Danny will hold a serious discussion about Taylor taking over the basement as her new bedroom.
— On a failure: Taylor will not be able to work up the nerve to hold such a discussion.
Spoiler: Stat Changes
Madison:
+ 4 Loyalty
+ 1 Submission
Lust cap increased to 12.
Loyalty cap increased to 12.
Submission cap increased to 15.
Affection cap increased to 12.
2.10
> Success chance: 50% 70%
> Necessary roll: 30. Rolled: 80. Success.
Spoiler: Winning Votes
[] You’re still feeling nervous about it, but you managed to convince Amy to go on a date to the museum with you. Or just an outing, but, no. You think she views it as a date just as much as you do. Maybe? You don’t know, but you’re hopeful. Either way, this is something to look forward to. [Costs one small expense.]
[] Buy Madison a choker. She deserves it for being such a good girl, but more than that, you’re pretty sure she wants it—wants a physical sign of her relationship with you, even if it’s one that only your girls can readily identify. Costs one small expense.
[] Alan called Dad to invite the two of you over to dinner on Saturday evening. He’s left the decision up to you, knowing that you’ve been busy on weekends lately, but it’s as good an opportunity to see Emma as you’re going to get… but, it does mean meeting Emma on her own ground, away from any of your comfort zones. On Saturday morning, you wake to the low sound of the house’s heaters creaking reverberating through the house. You blink tiredly, mind racing to figure out why Dad would have the heaters on this early—at least, until the sound of rain gently pattering down on the roof manages to make its way through the fog on your mind, and it clicks.
It’s raining. Ugh.
You crawl out of bed, giving the sky an irritated glance as though it cares. Damn it. You can’t even go jogging now, and you’ve never figured out how umbrellas are supposed to protect your legs from the rain, so you’re going to show up to your date with Amy with wet legs. Ugh. You barely got any sleep, and already the day is looking terrible.
You stomp your way over to your dresser, drawing out some of the clothes Victoria had bought for you. If you’re not going jogging, then there’s no reason for you to not dress nicely now, and you’d like to look pretty for your date.
Dad is already awake and out in the kitchen, you find once you’ve showered and walked out. It makes sense—your house isn’t the kind of house to have fancy rain-detection programs or whatever. Your house isn’t fancy enough for you to even know what kind of things a fancy house has.
“Hello, Taylor,” he says mildly, not even turning to look at you. You glare at him from behind his back. How did he know you were there? Your footsteps aren’t that heavy! “Do you want some breakfast? I’ve got bacon and eggs cooking, or I could make you some toast.”
You bite your lip, considering. “I wouldn’t mind some eggs on toast,” you say eventually, still scowling a little. You’ve never been a big fan of bacon. Most people you know talk it up—both Dad and Emma really enjoy it— but when it’s fried and cooked, it’s just kind of average. Eggs, on the other hand. Eggs are good. “Did you turn the coffee machine on?”
He nods, although you can only see it by the way the back of his head moves. “I turned the percolator on before I started cooking. It should be done by now.”
It won’t take him long to finish cooking breakfast, so you don’t force yourself to dawdle too much as you head over to the coffee machine and begin pouring each of you a cup of coffee. You make sure to add enough sugar for you, while leaving it out of Dad’s. You still carry them over about a minute before the eggs finish cooking, giving the two cups of coffee just enough time to cool down before he brings out the two plates of breakfast.
Breakfast is quiet, although in a good way. Neither of the two of you are the kind for small talk. Instead, you pull out your phone beneath the table and begin responding to all your texts, making sure to send Amy a reminder about the museum. About two minutes later, your phone buzzes with a reply from her; “Looking forward to it.
”
You get up and move back over the coffee maker. You can feel the tiredness pressing against your consciousness—it’s not terrible yet, but you know you’re going to be feeling it later in the day. Hopefully, getting some more coffee into you will help push that off.
“I’m going to the museum today,” you call out as you begin fiddling with the machine again. “Around lunchtime.”
Dad glances up at the roof, then over to you with a concerned expression on his face. “Today? Are you sure?”
You nod. “Don’t worry, I’ll take my umbrella,” you assure him. “I’ll be on the bus, so I won’t get wet.”
He frowns. You can tell he wants to say no, but something holds him back. “I could drive you there instead,” he says eventually.
“No.” You immediately shake your head, placing your cup on the kitchen bench so you can move over to where Dad is sitting and emphatically press down on his shoulders. “You stay home and relax, Dad. I’ll be okay. I’m only going to the museum.” Plastering the most convincing smile you can on your face, you hope he ignores the way your hands shake on his shoulder.
Honestly, it won’t be the end of the world if he drives you, but, well, you like having Amy to yourself. Intellectually, you know that Dad catching a glimpse of her won’t change that, but it feels like it will. You don’t want his first time meeting her being through the windscreen of his car in the pouring rain as he drives you to a museum. You’d much rather be in— well. You want to be the one to introduce the two of them, not happenstance, and you want it to be at a time when you can make sure the two get along.
He looks at you for a long moment, then lets out a sigh and mumbles something you can’t hear. Then he looks up at you, giving you a wry smile. “Okay, Taylor. But make sure you take your umbrella, okay? And bring a spare jacket, just in case.”
“I will, Dad.”
“Good.” He nods, looking somewhat mollified, even though you’ve already told him you’re planning on bringing your umbrella. “Oh, before I forget—Alan called. He invited the two of us over for dinner tonight. Would you like me to tell him you’re busy?”
You consider it for a moment. Instinctively, you want to say yes, but something holds you back. A desire to reward Emma for sticking to her word, maybe. Or an instinctive desire to rebel against Dad’s assumption that you don’t want to go. “No,” you say after a moment’s thought. “I’ll go.”
“Really.” He raises his eyebrows for a moment, as though caught off-guard. You pout angrily at him for it, which just causes him to look even more confused. “Okay,” he says defensively. “I’ll tell him you’re coming.”
You nod sharply. “Good.”
The rest of Saturday morning is spent lying on the couch in a half-awake fugue. At some point, Dad switches the television on for you, but you’re too busy texting everyone on your phone and steadfastly ignoring the text your phone company had sent you, reminding you that you’re going to have to buy more credit next week. Ugh.
Unsurprisingly, Madison is the most prompt responder to your texts, often replying within two minutes of whatever text you send. She’s so prompt that you feel obliged to send her a text telling her to make sure she pays attention to her surroundings, to which she replies with a “>:<”, a text-smiley whose meaning you don’t understand.
Surprisingly, today, Sophia is actually responding to your texts more than once every couple of hours. It’s not nearly as regular as Madison, but you get the feeling that either she’s checking her phone more often or she’s stopped ignoring them when you first send them—which, well, you’re not sure she actually does that, but it wouldn’t surprise you if she refused to answer texts promptly out of principle. Still, now she’s responding surprisingly often, even if the talk is just banal conversation about the weather and how her mother is trying to make her clean her bedroom.
All up, between Madison, Sophia and Victoria, you’re kept busy enough just sending and reading texts that you manage to pass the time until it’s time for you to leave for your bus without falling asleep. You’d considered taking a nap, but you’re not the type of person who responds well to them. Most of the time, you just wake up more tired than before.
When it’s time, you get up and hurry to the front door, waving goodbye to Dad. He gives you a surprised look and a little wave in return as you grab your umbrella and trudge off to the bus stop.
Sure enough, as you walk, the bottom of your trousers are soon soaked. It’s not even so much the rain as it is the water you kick up as you walk, which promptly soaks into your socks and your trousers. It’s not so cold that it’s unbearable, but it’s certainly pretty uncomfortable.
You dry out a little on the bus, but only enough that by the time you step off a block away from the museum you’re damp rather than dripping water over the ground. That changes very quickly as you make your way hurriedly over to the museum, scowling up at the grey clouds above.
Your scowl disappears almost immediately when you finally arrive at the museum and spot Amy standing awkwardly there, her arms crossed defensively in front of her as she scans the street ahead. When her gaze finds you, a grin splits her face, and she lets her arms drop as she waves at you. You wave back, a smile crossing your own face as you pick up your pace and move towards her.
She’s dressed up nicely today—very nicely. She’s wearing a comfortable-looking blue ruffled dress, and for once, she’s wearing more than the bare minimum makeup. Idly, you wonder who helped her put it on—her mother? Her father? Or is she more skilled with it than she makes herself seem? Either way, she looks nice. She’s even done up her hair, smoothing it out some and tying it back so it doesn’t frizz all over the place in the rain, just like you have.
You greet her with a smile and a small one-armed hug when you make your way up the stairs. She’s warm against you, and you’re reluctant to pull away for a few moments. Thankfully, she doesn’t seem to mind, and even settles into the cuddle somewhat.
If it wasn’t for someone coughing loudly behind the two of you, you’re not sure how long you might have stood there like that, half-cuddling her while you hold your umbrella in the other hand. As it is, though, someone does very rudely cough at the two of you, causing Amy to step back with an alarmed look.
You level a small glare at the person who had interrupted your cuddle time. It’s a balding, middle-aged man, who is currently giving the two of you a dirty look. Without even spreading your powers out, you can feel disgust emanating from him. You curl your lip in turn, sneering at him as he walks past. He blinks, startled, and hurries into the museum a little faster.
“Some people,” you sigh, aggrieved.
Amy rolls her eyes affectionately at you. “We were kind of holding up the stairway,” she points out. “We should go in.”
You shrug and gesture for her to follow you. She follows you placidly, tossing you an amused glance as she goes. You’re not sure what she’s amused at, but your instinctive response is to scowl at her. You refrain, though. You don’t know what she’s so amused about, but whatever it is, at least she’s not being brought down by that guy’s rude looks.
Tickets into the museum aren’t cheap, but thanks to their weekend deals, it doesn’t cost too much. You mentally wince as you pay, but you make sure that by the time you turn back to Amy, none of your misgivings show on your face.
“Alright!” You almost reach out to take her hand before you remember her request last week not to do so in public. Instead, you offer her up a hesitant smile. “Are you ready?”
She smiles at you. It’s a surprisingly sweet smile. You’re not particularly concerned about it, but you have noticed that Amy can be kind of bitchy at times. She’s not the kind of girl you associate with the term ‘sweet’. “Yeah,” she replies. “Show me around?”
“Okay!” you reply enthusiastically.
It’s a little bit nostalgic, coming to the museum. Mom used to take you here all the time, four times a year—every time they would change up their displays and bring in new attractions. Dad came along on occasion, too, but mostly it had been a thing you and Mom did. She would take you all around the museum, even lifting you up on her shoulders when you were younger, and go around to every single display case and tell you in a very serious voice all about the history of the pieces. Even the ones that hadn’t moved or changed places since you were two.
You haven’t been here outside of school visits in… a long while now.
You guide Amy around the still-familiar building. The showcase of British culture isn’t very exciting, which is kind of disappointing. British culture is very old, and there are a lot of tales that could have been woven. Then again, it could also have been expensive to set up a fantastic display, and Brockton Bay has never been the kind of place to funnel a great deal of money to its libraries and museums.
Your favourite part of the museum is the fossil room. It’s only a small room, off to the side of the gift shop, but it’s packed to the brim with small fossils and chunks of amber. Nobody besides the two of you are in the room at the moment.
