Being the Former Archon's Live-in Cook

Act 6

It was the first time in a while you'd hear your dad was preparing a resume for job applications, particularly being a sales representative. How you managed to hear that, cogitating you had your own conundrums on a wooden platter at the moment, came to be when your dad's circle of friends crossed eyes with you along the aesthetically pulchritudinous streets of Fontaine, the network of pathways of the Aquabus just above gray terrazzo. They didn't waste time telling you straight, their tales of fishing and hero-ing across the borders were lost on your ears as soon as word of your dad erupted out of their mouths. 

"My dad...? A job? He wants to get a job?" You couldn't believe it.

"You're basically naked without one. Your pops knows that much." 

"Where is he?" You were worried now.

Cheeky as they were, nothing about dad's friends were malicious or harbored ill intentions. They protruded a feeling of comfortability despite their loud voices. In another universe, you could've considered these people your brothers. Brothers with poor hygiene. Even the Maguu Kenki knew how to distinguish foul odor and acceptable fragrances. That's why it was situated in one place where the air was clear. Enthralling and eternally observing equanimity in its sitting stance. 

"Last we talked was in yer house. But should be around the Vasari Passage. You know the guy had a habit of walking around before going to the actual destination since the guy likes sightseeing so much."

Navia would've endured this with a smile on her face and a tip of her hat, like Lyney and Lynette being composed with their acts through various facades hidden in the cards of their magic tricks. Circumstances were different between the two parties. The woman met you fatefully one day where you had to collect materials from a Tainted Hydro Phantasm. Not noticing its other minions, the fedora-loving shotgun-wielder crashed, shot it before it could do the same to you, and a friendship was born. She even wore sunglasses throughout that fight, to which you applauded. Dad's friends were like coal. They had probably energized your dad to be more active in socializing but not you. You wished to do the opposite. Still, good people. 

Before you went back to Furina's home to write down freebie vouchers of extra-super-power cooking as an apology, your foot taps against concrete as you run to Vasari Passage, a little anxiety rushing in your veins, taking minimal offense at the fact that in all the years you've been with your father during his time of laziness, this was the only time in his life he chose to move, without you nor your mom right at his side. That even if you had not been the best child, you still wanted him to improve. But good for him, he was trying to stand on his own two feet. You just had to hope he wouldn't fly away like a seagull. To strangers, your straight expression wouldn't give away anything. You looked like a normal person running around town to get cardio in.

But where did he even apply? Intentions did not always align with how reality treated it. It was just in your nature to doubt everything before fully believing them. You feared for your dad. What if he'd been swindled? Conned to earn quick cash from unruly and cocky coxcombs. Your dad was an expert but in the world of business? That was a different story. He might as well have gone back to kindergarten to learn basic alphabet.