Returning Favors

Who: Arden and Roy
Where: the streets and then ice cream
When: Late-ish afternoon

Roy was out walking. His head was still sort of in a messy place, though at least it was a slightly calmer messy place. He was on his way to the theater, to try and tell Madeline that he had maybe possibly a job opportunity for her, one that was acceptable, though he wasn't rushing over. He still didn't know if he wanted to see her right now or not, thus his reticence. Still, he knew he'd have to. Just thinking about it made him upset all over again, and that was no good.

He was walking, hands shoved into his pockets, eyes mostly on the sidewalk, though today he was paying better attention to where he was going, after bumping into Ava. He didn't so much like the idea of crashing into anyone else. Plus, he was vaguely on the look out for Dodge's boys, wondering if they were going to jump out of the shadows to beat him up or something else equally as stupid.

Arden was also near the theater, all too happy to wander as away from the church as possible after having to endure not only mass and then Sunday school but a stupid play rehearsal where she was holding out sticks and supposed to be a dumb tree and then got scolded at because Margaret Haysworth's smug face got too close to her branches. And the whole while during the scolding Arden refused to say 'sorry' what with having to watch that stupid cow stick her tongue out at her from behind the teacher's back only to look all 'innocent' when the teacher turned around again. Which meant that the play rehearsal had been short one tree that was stuck sitting in a corner until it was done and Arden had made a beeline out the doors. She was old enough now to take the bus home, her dad thinking she kept to a group with the other kids, but the last thing Arden had wanted to do was stand on the stupid bus with that stupid group of idiots.

So she had been stalking her way down the sidewalk, a tempermental cloud hanging over her head, with almost no possibility of the mood turning anytime soon until a familiar figure appeared her sight. "Roy!" she called out, brightly, and then went bounding down the sidewalk towards him, that little storm in her expression vanishing in suddenly in a way that would have surprised anyone who didn't know the girl. Unknown to her, some odd looks were shot in her direction as she stopped next to Roy. Arden was still in her church clothes, dressed in the cute and clean style of clothes designed for girl's her age that only made her feel uncomfortable now, with her hair put into two braided buns as neatly as she could manage (because hair down at Church was a No, even though Arden didn't get why Jesus cared). But, even if Arden were aware of how odd she looked next to Roy, she wouldn't have cared. "How ya doin'?" She grinned.

He blinked when his name was suddenly being called, and he then was suddenly faced with Arden. And it brought a smile to his face, a genuine one. She looked cute, all dolled up, he was assuming for some event, maybe church, but he wasn't sure. But, she was a kid that didn't have to scrape for what she had, so of course she did. "Hey." he said. "Look, all alive and everything. Thanks for the meds and everything--they really helped." he said, not at all above thanking her for what was, in fact, a huge contribution to his getting better. In fact, he still felt like he owed her something over it. Like he wanted to pay her back, or do something nice for her. He just didn't know what.

"Great!" she replied, happy to see him well and more than proud with herself about the whole thing: thinking up the idea, finding the medicine, pilfering what she couldn't find from the drug store. It was about the most actual planning Arden had put into anything recently, and even then it was still littered with her usual impulsiveness. And while that impulsiveness meant she often did many things that got her stuck sitting out play rehearsals in corners, it also meant she didn't have the time or inclination beforehand to think about how people could repay her the same way she didn't think about consequences. In fact, now the medicine issue had been largely forgotten as she took in the significant bruising -- both with the street kids and the schoolyard Arden could recognize the remnants from a fight. "What happened?" she demanded, glaring at the bruises as her concerned tone was laced with anger. Not that anger was ever far below the surface -- it was usually causing violent waves right on it -- but at least this time Arden was visibly angry for Roy instead of being riled up by her typical temper.

Roy made a bit of a face. "Had a little run in with people. It's nothin, Arden." he assured her. "I'm all better and everything. Doesn't even hurt." Which wasn't strictly true, but he just was aware he was healing, and so he felt better than previously, anyways. "Hey--you want to go get ice cream or something?" he asked. He had the money he'd got from Ava. Maybe he could take Dutch's advice, and just do something simple but nice. "I was thinking about getting some anyways." he added, because he knew how she could get. But still. He really wouldn't mind spending a little time with her, even if she was a volitile little thing at the best of times.

She crossed her arms, scowling; clearly not impressed with the answer. "I can fight, y'know," she avowed rather haughtily, jutting her chin out, grumpy displeasure on full display at both Roy getting hurt and not being told the story. A more developed mind would have realized the ridiculousness of the tall twelve-year-old girl in her Sunday dress offering to fight for the defense or honor of the 18-year-old street kid. And that same developed mind would've realized that her doing so would have probably only embarrassed Roy and made things worse. But there was nothing ridiculous about it for Arden. For a friend -- or, maybe even just out spite and temper -- she would impulsively go into a fray teeth and limbs blazing, dress or no. Whether or not she would win or survive said fray was an irrelevant issue -- although the girl had enough of that devil-may-care spitfire to do some damage before the odds and numbers won out. At his offer for ice cream she didn't answer immediately, still sulky about the whole 'being out of the loop' thing, but the power of ice cream had its sway and it was better than fuming over Margaret Haysworth and the stupid church play.

"Alright," Arden finally grumbled, walking in step beside Roy; but she still kept her arms cross and eyed him sulkily as she did so, not willing to easily give up nursing that sulkiness.

Roy smiled again. She was something. "I know you can fight." he told her, even if he didn't, so much, but you didn't tell that to a little girl with a temper like Arden's. "I just got caught up by a few guys when I was sick. It wasn't pretty." he told her, giving her that much, though his tone suggested it was nothing to worry about. "What're you doing walking around, by the way? Especially all dressed up?" he asked. "Get bored wherever you were?" He also knew her attention span wasn't always what it was cracked up to be, but he didn't mind if she went off on a tangent about her day. In fact, he'd completely welcome that at the moment.

"Hmph, well maybe they'll get sick and if they do I'm not giving them any medicine," she muttered, her arms crossed now in disapproval as her face expressed huffy distate whoever the faceless 'few guys' were. And Roy was right about her attention span: giving that vehement declaration was enough for Arden's mind to let the subject be as it drifted onto the subject of Church and Sunday school -- a thought at which her mouth pursed and brows pursed into a sharp scowl. "Got back from Church," she muttered, her tone expressing clearly what she thought of that. "And there's this stupid play they're making us do that we had rehearsal for and I'm a tree." Whether Roy knew much about how children's plays worked or not, Arden's tone made it obvious that being cast as a tree was of the greatest insult. "I was supposed to be the lion but Martha Kinley got that part because her mom goes to that stupid lady's prayer group and is friends with the Sunday school teacher. The teacher said that wasn't the case but everyone knows it is because Martha's roar sounds like a strangled cat." And, as if Roy would have any doubt, Arden went ahead to illustrate said wimpy strangled roar herself.

He tried hard not to smile. Because she was talking about clearly very serious business, for her, and so he didn't want to laugh. And he even managed it--even if it was just barely. But he kept his featured schooled as he listened to her, nodding as he did. "What do the trees do in the play?" he asked, lightly confused on that. Because...er...trees were pretty stationary things, after all. Not really big for any parts in a play, as it were. "And yes, that sounds like a piss poor lion." he agreed. "What's yours sound like?" he asked, sort of just half wondering if she'd do it if he asked, but he thought maybe she might want to demonstrate for an audience.

"Nothing," Arden muttered darkly, this very clearly being at the root of the issue as to why she was so peeved about being a tree. "Except just stand there holding sticks as branches -- except it'll be this stupid ugly tree costume on the stage -- and then get yelled at because some stupid girl got too close to the branches who deserved it anyway." Although her face brightened considerably, all traces of scowling and frowning gone, when he mentioned about her roar. "Better than Martha's!" Arden declared, grinning. Then, not waiting to give the slightest warning, she unleashed her roar upon Roy and any poor bystanders in the near vicinity for a good five seconds or so. And it was with an all too-proud-of-herself expression that Arden looked around an, expression getting more smug, noted the extremely startled looks from those who had walked past them. Heck, she even let out a triumphant "Hah!" when she spotted a very startled and very annoyed older lady bring her hand to her heart as she leaned against a building, shopping bags at her feet, shooting Arden a very Displeased look -- not that the girl cared the slightest. "See?"

Roy laughed a little, amused. "I do see." he agreed. "A million times better than that other girl." he continued. He couldnt' help but wonder if maybe Arden hadn't got the part because she was one of the most all over the place people he'd ever met, and at any given moment she could stomp off in a huff, which, with a play? Not so doable, really. But he didn't say anything about it, he just listened to the story. "Maybe next time, you'll get a better part. Or if you're the best tree in the entire play, maybe they'll recognize the talent they overlooked in the first place." he added. "You could always show them up for it."

Arden's nose crinkled at that, her pride both rising to the idea of being the best at anything while at the same time still being greatly offended at the idea of being a tree at all. And, as usual when Arden had no pleasure or patience in dealing with something, she dismissed it with a declaration of "Plays are dumb, anyway." Following this statement was actually some blissful and surprising moments where Arden said nothing, face drifting into an oddly distracted and pensive expression, before it suddenly turned towards Roy, bright and smiling again, "So whatcha doin'? Other than getting me ice cream?" She asked, curious.

"Was going to head over to see D for a while." he said, shrugging one shoulder. "See if she was in, or not. Other than that, not much. Just sort of walking around, thinking. Hanging out with you is preferable." he told her. Even if sometimes, it'd be the worst thing ever. At the moment? She was a nice distraction from the rest of his thoughts. "What's been up with you, beyond stupid plays?" he asked her, happier to hear about what she was doing than go into what was up with him. Roy was, when he wanted to be, a very good listener.

Arden, who couldn't do tact to save her very short life, was all ready to blurt out, "Whatcha thinkin' about?" just before Roy asked another question that got her mind fixated on something else -- particularly the main thing Arden had been actively avoiding and pushing off and that had her acting out more than usual today. Another frown drifted onto her face, which itself wasn't unusual, except this wasn't her typical volatile and huffy sharpened frown. It was something more subtle and considerably more perturbed. "I slipped on a bench yesterday," she murmured, voice uncharacteristically soft there, as she raised her a knee a bit to display the large band-aid slightly visible through her tights. Then the frown darkened and angered considerably in another moment of silence before the girl's mind drifted to something considerably more amusing, "And I got this couple in the park with a snowball yesterday, perfect aim!" She finished gleefully.

Roy had been paying attention, and he did note the odd shift there. He didn't say anything for a moment. Certainly not 'well that was mean, wasn't it?' She was kind of taken with that. He sort of half blamed it on her youth, and half blamed it on her social standing. Maybe people in a higher class were just crueler than other people, he didn't know. But it was typical Arden behavior, so it wasn't like it was surprising. "What happened with the bench?" he asked.

She blinked at that, and for once seemed oddly reticent to answer that when all of his other questions had sent her careening into one vocal tangent or another. But her parents and anything related to them were one of the few subjects that Arden generally shut up on, or sometimes it sent her hurling into some fit of temper about the next seemingly insignificant thing or topic she came upon -- especially when it was related to her mother. Or sometimes she just seemed morose or distant with the subject. And many times the reaction consisted of all of the above and then some. Right now thinking about about the bench had her thinking about Jesse and the stupid things he said about her mom and letters and that all stuff that Arden knew was probably a lie anyway now that she had gone home and slept on things and realized just how not true and wrong Jesse was. And that was the end of it. ...except something unpleasant kept itching at her even though she knew it was all a stupid lie. "I was jumping from bench to bench in the park and slipped," she finally answered, not looking at Roy but instead glaring at some passersby on the sidewalk. But, unlike the preceding subjects, she didn't go off and elaborate.

"Something's bugging you, Arden. What's going on?" Roy asked. Usually, she would be going off on something right now. The ice, the bench, whatever else she could lay blame on. So, it was weird that she wasn't, which had him feeling something was off, and in a sort of major way. Therefore, he asked, wondering if she'd tell him or not. Especially since she seemed weirdly tight lipped about it right now, which was amazingly strange in and of itself.

"Nothing's wrong!" she shot back, more than plenty defensive on the matter. Although just how vehemently and earnestly she said it suggested she may have been trying to convince herself moreso than Roy, not that Arden had honed the analytical skills to realize it. She sulked angrily for a bit after that outburst, hands shoved into her coat pockets as her gaze bore a hole into the sidewalk in front of them. And for a good while there it seemed as if she wasn't going to say anything further; but suddenly she finished it with a dark muttering -- the level of darkness unusual even for her -- of, "Adults are all just a bunch of liars." Unlike her usual declarations of dismissal though, Arden couldn't quite pull herself out of this mood enough to grasp onto a different subject to start chatterboxing about.

Frowning, Roy just watched her for a few minutes as they walked. "...who's lying to you?" he asked. That sounded strange. That sounded very strange, even. Definitely not something that was usual for her. He wasn't altogether certain he even knew what was up, but something was, that much was quite clear. So, if it took digging, he'd do that. Or, he'd try to, anyways.

"All of them," she almost sneered, although that anger was bubbling too much within her to pull a sneer off quite so smoothly. "The teachers at school, the principal, the ones at church, the nuns, the priests, the ones in the park... all of them." Her voice started to waver towards the end, almost as if she would start crying. But then Arden's jaw set angrily as her mind fumed over the list of grievances: adults that lied about parts in plays, adults in the park who lied about letters, adults that said they loved you and then left, adults that got angry and shook you when you didn't do anything and said they wouldn't again but then they did... all of them.

"....Arden, you seem really upset, what's going on?" he asked, knowing he'd already asked just that, but still. This was creeping away from 'weird' and heading straight into 'worrisome'. And while she didn't have the kinds of problems people like him did, apparently that didn't mean her life was perfect, either. And if someone was doing anything he didn't like to a little girl...well. That wouldn't go over fabulously well. But by the same token, Arden was given to overdramatics with absolutely everything. So, he wanted to know the story, whatever it was. "You know you can tell me. I mean...who'm I going to tell?" he added, in case she needed the encouragement. "Plus, you were there for me, right? We're friends."

Arden eyed him critically for a long moment, although it was really some mix between scrutinizing and glaring. Really anything involving her parents could set her off onto any kind of reaction -- spanning both volatile and somber -- at any moment. although she never really got to the 'why'. It was doubtful she possessed the self-awareness to understand the 'why' herself. But her tendency to get venomous and bite heads off when that subject was poked at persistently usually resulted in most people giving up anyway. But the only people who really had prodded at that issue were generally adults (especially faculty) and her classmates. And Arden generally didn't open up to adults on principle, especially those school or church related, and after being picked on so persistently she harbored a near hatred for her schoolmates in general.

But Roy wasn't a schoolmate, or an adult; but a friend. And the issue certainly hadn't been kept at by anyone Arden had considered a friend before. In fact, especially after she got taller and Margaret Haysworth and the other kids started making fun of her for it, Arden really didn't have that many friends at all. "Some guy at the park after I slipped on the bench said he knew my mom," and the word 'mom' brought forth a severely dark, dirty look that clearly emphasized how Arden felt on that subject. "But she's not a mom, just a liar. And I don't care or want or need one anyway." She gave a very pronounced shrug, that didn't exactly go along with the dark cloud still hovering over her head on the whole issue. The same way her tone, which had aimed to be cool and nonchalant, still hinted at the violent churning emotions bubbling beneath the surface.

Roy took that in, not even sure what to make of it. It was true--he didn't know a whole lot about Arden's home life. He just knew that she preferred slumming it with Pepper and such, rather than hang out with kids from her own social class. Which probably said something, really. "Why would someone do that?" he asked carefully, sort of trying to puzzle that out. Seemed kind of...well. Random, really.

There was another sharp shrug that did more to convey her precariousness than disinterest on the matter. "She just. left," Arden muttered, her brow scrunched in tight frustration as she volleying somewhere between anger and failure at that fact. Her mind was so fixated on her mother right now that she assumed that was what Roy was asking about. She didn't know why her mother had left. Or, well, a part of her did: because of her. Sometimes, when she would hole up in her room or at the library, Arden would try to list the possible things wrong with her that might have sent her mother out the door. And when that list became too long she would stop and usually cry or beat up something. She generally chose beating up something. "She just decided to go," Arden reiterated, settling more on anger.

It took him a second to catch up, since she answered a question that he hadn't asked, but it didn't take too long to latch onto things. It also took him a few moments to come up with something acceptable to say to that, because he was now in uncharted territory. "When was that? Were things bad between her and your dad?" he asked, totally, wildly unsure there.

"No!" Arden snapped, although something about that question made stirred an involuntary twitch between her brows, but she didn't notice it. "Things were fine before." It was another reiteration that Arden didn't catch that seemed half-directed to herself, muttered as she turned her gaze away from Roy to return to glaring at the sidewalk. But in her mind things had been fine: her parents were always smiling, and she thought both of them had loved her although she now knew how wrong she was on that point. Although if she thought hard enough -- she might recall that sometimes, especially returning home from a friend's house and spending time with their family -- the air inside the house would seem... this uncomfortable too-still feeling. Or she might come home to find something broken on the floor, or find some missing broken or dented object in the trash can, or notice that sometimes the home might seem messy in a way that didn't fit with the normal day-to-day living mess. But all these details, while not truly forgotten, were deeply buried enough into her subconscious that she couldn't recall them.

"She left two years ago," this time Arden didn't mutter, but instead her voice had dropped even more uncharacteristically to almost a soft whisper. "She didn't write or call or visit at all. She's not dead or hurt or anything -- I saw her, a year ago. When I was inside a shop. She was walking on the sidewalk across the street. She was fine." It seemed that, like with everything else, Arden was bouncing back and forth between sharing and reticence. After another quiet moment she declared, voice strong with attempted nonchalance again, "But I don't care. I don't need her."

Roy knew a case of 'this is my story and I'm sticking to it' when he heard it. Though that didn't mean that he knew what the truth was. But then, maybe Arden didn't either. That was a distinct possibilty. In fact, it was likely she didn't. "Where's all this come in with people lying to you?" he asked, trying to connect what she was saying now with where the whole thing had started from, and he wasn't sure he could without her providing the connections there. What did this have to do with her falling in the park? He wasn't sure, and he didn't really want to start throwing out wild guesses, either. Not when this seemed so important to her.

"She left," Arden's pitch was strained and maybe a slight bit hysterical there as she said that, emphasizing that as if it somehow held the answer to Roy's question. For Arden, the answer was in that statement clear as day. "She was supposed to be a mom, but she never was because she left." She couldn't say that she was supposed to be her mom, or that the main lie was in saying all those 'I love yous' and 'I'm here' and 'I'll always be here' and other things that real mothers said and real mothers who didn't walk out on their kids meant. Then Arden slipped into another period of reticence, although for a moment this one came off more despondent than angry. But that moment was short lived, as the familiar anger started to creep into her thoughts as she recounted what Jesse said, teeth gritted,

"The guy at the park said she writes letters but she doesn't. She doesn't write, or call, or visit at all -- not on the holidays or birthdays or on Mother's Day." Arden hated Mother's Day. She hated how, even after she knew her mother didn't care, a part of her still expected her to show up. The same way she expected her to show up or write or call or something during the first couple months, and then even after, until Arden just had to accept that wasn't going to happen and that she didn't care about that woman anyways. But she hadn't forgotten just how it felt to be so disappointed, how stupid she was to think her mother would show up, that right now -- a day later -- she couldn't forgive Jesse and her mom who lied to him (or maybe they were both lying) when he talked about letters because Arden wasn't going to be stupid again. But she'd show them. She would prove it.

"...you're not going to be very happy to me with what I'm going to say here." Roy said first. "But I swear I'm not saying it to piss you off or hurt your feelings." Yeah, he needed a disclaimer. "But adults...they tell their kids whatever they want. Whatever they want you to think, that's the story they tell. I don't know why someone would lie to you, about letters, or anything else. Do you ever check the mail?" he asked, figuring that she was twelve, no, she really probably didn't. "But still, even so...moms, dads, it's all just a version of the truth. It was how things were in my family, before...well, before." Before everyone up and fucking died, or went missing. "My dad, he told us he had some other job. I found out later that wasn't the case." And I'm still paying for it. "I still don't know what the truth was, but I'm not in a position where I can find out, either. You might be, though. And if you want any help, you know where I am."

She was silent for another moment, watching Roy, for once not seeming to volley back and forth between one turbulent emotion and another. That turmoil was still there, but at the moment it had been pushed back. For now. Maybe it was the effect of hearing her suspicions somewhat validated aloud by someone else that did it. She didn't often get a receptive ear, and especially when she got into a fit where she tried to explain about adults and lying she was usually brushed off or told she was mistaken or making things up. Or the other reason for the momentary calmer silence could be Roy unexpectedly mentioning his family. Arden didn't recall him mentioning such before. "What happened to your family?" she asked, tone surprisingly calm and curious and polite for the moment.

"Not anything good." Roy said truthfully. "...honestly, Arden, you probably don't want to know." he told her, knowing that probably wouldn't make her drop it, but he had to say it. Because it wasn't a pleasant story. It was pretty damn awful, all things told. "And we're not talking about me right now. Just...suffice to say I know what I'm talking about there. When I asked where my father was at, what I was told wasn't anything near the truth."

"You're wrong. I do want to know," she retorted, half-glaring at him to express her annoyance at being told what she did or didn't want to know, especially when Arden undoubtedly knew that she every bit did. "You're my friend," she pointed out very matter-of-factly, as if this was the most obvious fact in the world. Because to Arden it was, and the statement was born of a very clear sentiment Arden recognized... even if her volatile temperament didn't express it so wonderfully. And, in speaking that fact that was very simple plain to her, Arden didn't realize that she was using the same words Roy had given her just minutes before.

Roy had a decision to make. He could show her that sometimes, when people were trying to shield you from something, it was for a reason, and maybe she should listen every now and then, or he could keep shielding her, and give her the watered down version. In the end, he went with the latter, because she was just a kid. "It was my family, and two others, my aunts and uncle's families living together. Everything was okay for a while, but it didn't last. My dad went missing, my mom and aunts all died, my uncles, I'm not sure what happened with them, some of my siblings died, most of us went to the orphanage, and most of them are still there." he said. That was about as bare bones as he could get, tone flat to keep the emotion out of it. You didn't really get over finding dead siblings. Especially when they were so young. When you could still hear 'Roy gimme piggy!' in your ears, because the little ones loved riding around on his back. "No one knows what happened to my father. But he never did come back, so it doesn't matter."

Barring when her parents came up or she was being spiteful and intentionally misleading, Arden was never one to think too much about what to say and usually blurted out the first thing that came to her mind. In this case, it was nothing any more complicated or less meaningful than, "That's sad." Because it was. Although her tone, while honest, was devoid of pity or feeling sorry for Roy -- well meaning or not, those feelings required some inherent condescension that Arden had yet to grasp. And maybe part of it was that Arden, even though she was an only child, at least understood too well the awfulness of a parent walking out. But the girl certainly wasn't making that connection to her own situation. On her own situation, when her mind actually set to think on it, was regarded with anger, or a feeling of betrayal, or some feeling of failure... but not the sadness that she felt in regards to Roy's. "Do you get to see the ones that're around?" Maybe a person with more sense would've thought twice as to whether Roy wanted to stick on this subject, but -- again -- Tact and Arden were complete strangers.

"My sister Marian, sometimes." Roy answered. "She works at the diner." he added. Then he fell quiet for a while. "What do you want to do about your situation?" he asked. Since even if she was a kid, he didn't think that she was incapable of action. People often said kids couldn't do anything just because they were kids, but he knew that was bullshit. That was quite simply not the case, and he actually put it out there partially so Arden would feel like she had choices in the matter, so she could feel like she could do something. He'd help her out if he could.

It was Arden's turn to fall quiet for a moment, although this time it wasn't out of defensive reticence as it was her actually taking the time to think on the question for once. Maybe it was because, after hearing about Roy's family, the girl actually felt she had something intimate to relate to even if it wasn't the same -- maybe it was the reason she preferred the street kids over the ones she was forced to be around at school and church with their perfect moms and dads and homes that bothering stillness when you stepped inside. But Arden wasn't musing on any of that. Instead, she finally replied, "I'll prove to him that there aren't any letters." Her eyes narrowed onto the sidewalk, mouth determinedly set with the statement, a dawning glint of anger and some defiance. She wouldn't let herself get sucked in, get tricked into thinking her mother sent letters only to find out that she hadn't. "And I'll prove to him my mom's just lying -- or maybe they both are."

But the question of how, though? Wasn't so simple, and Arden lost a little bit of that fire as she realized that. "But the mail key -- my dad has it." He kept it on his keychain, and she couldn't recall how long he had done that even though a part of her swore it used to be kept hanging by the door. "And I can't ask him about it," she added, softly. Ever since her mom left, he got angry sometimes. And lately it seemed a lot of the times. And even though Arden didn't know why exactly, she knew that he would get angry if she asked about the letters or her mom. But she didn't blame him, it was her mom's fault -- her mom had hurt him by leaving. But she what she was most afraid of -- far more than her dad being angry -- was that he would leave. She knew she did things sometimes, even if she couldn't really remember what, but then he would not get angry but move for his coat and start to leave and even just recalling him almost doing that made her heart beat hard and freak out a little. "So he can't know," she added even more softly, almost whispering, trying to figure out what exactly she should do.

Roy thought about that for a few moments. "The mail key like the key to the mail box?" he asked. Did she live someplace where they had those? Or was she talking about something else? He had to clarify that first, before he decided what he could and could not do to help her. "If there were letters, they probably wouldn't still be in the mail box." he added.

"There aren't letters," she shot back, that typical volatile anger returning to the surface, although it came off about as petulant as it was angry. Of course, if Arden was so set in thinking there weren't any letters, then why she was so concerned about finding out there were no letters was a valid question. But, again, it was another observation she lacked the self-awareness to pick up on. Instead she took a moment to emphasize her displeasure with an even more petulant scowl at Roy, before her mind again went to work on the whole 'proving there were no letters' issue and there was some more pensive silence. "There's a desk," she murmured distractedly, stomach absolutely dropping at the thought. Once, when she had been looking for a pen and wondered over to the desk for one, her father had caught her and had gotten so angry about it that even now Arden visibly shrank back a bit thinking about it. "But I can't go near it," and something shakingly off in her tone and its higher pitch hinted that messing with the desk was Bad News.

Roy frowned at that, especially her reaction. The first part he expected, so that he ignored, really. "Why can't you go near it?" he asked. That didn't sound good, and he knew fear when he saw it. Which didn't make him feel any better about her situation than he had before. It was possible he was even more uneasy now.

She frowned a bit, clearly confused by the question. "Because I can't," she repeated, as if the repetition somehow made it clearer. Arden couldn't break it down further, it was something that Just Was. Even when she was home alone Arden kept well away from the desk, because she knew that if she went near it Something Bad would happen the same way she knew that if she let go of a ball it would drop or that if she held her breath for too long it would hurt. Arden couldn't explain what would happen, but she knew that whatever it was it was it was unpleasant and made her look twice when she was home alone and some object of hers had fallen and landed too close to the desk. "And it's locked. And if I mess with it or try to get into it my dad will know." Which was something Arden really really really didn't want.

Pausing for a few long minutes, trying to figure out what to tell her, Roy finally landed on his answer. "...if you want to look in the desk, tell me when he'll be gone for a long while, and I can just take part of it apart, and put it back together. He'd never know." he told her. Because that he could do. Lockpicking? Not so much. But just the mechanics of a desk? That was as easy as pie.

Arden was quiet again, again visibly shrinking a bit as if they were talking about Roy dismantling a bomb instead of a desk... which actually explained the issue rather well. The girl was normally blatantly fearless in nearly all situations -- even those fully warranting fear -- but when it came to doing something she knew would seriously anger her father... that fearlessness scattered away. In fact, given a choice between messing with a bomb or messing with the desk and having her father find out? The little girl would probably pick the bomb. But the seed that Jesse's words had planted stirred uneasily within her, and she eyed Roy warily for a long moment out of the corner of her eye. "You promise?" she asked, clearly still plenty of doubtful and hesitant about the whole idea. "You could do that? And put it back exactly as it was? Everything?" Irrational or not, Arden was under the impression that one pencil out of place would bring all kinds of bad that she didn't want.

"I promise." Roy said with a nod, looking her in the eyes for that. "I could just take one of the pannels out on the bottom, and from there it'd be easy." he told her. "I've done it before. Some of the desks left in the old bank building had locked drawers on them, so I just took them apart to see what was left inside. The keys were long gong. But it's not hard. I'd just need some time when we knew he wasn't going to be home." he explained, so she'd also know it wouldn't be the first time he'd done something like that.

She held his gaze in silence for a bit, scrutinizing the offer over, before finally letting out a slow and reluctant nod. "He works a lot," she answered, keeping her voice very low and soft as if she somehow expected her father stumble across them and hear the plan. And, in another bout of irrationality, a sharp spike of apprehension popped up within her because in some paranoid way Arden did fear that. Her eyes even cast a quick glance about the street before she continued, "But he's not there during the day -- on weekdays." Which, really, is when Arden should have been in school; but it wasn't as if her attendance record was anywhere on her list of concerns.

"Well, why don't you tell me what day you want me to do this, and I'll show up?" he suggested. "We can meet someplace and you can take me back to your house." Since it occurred to Roy that he didn't know where she lived, and her writing down the address wouldn't do him any good. So, this worked better. He didn't say anything about her skipping school. That wasn't at all a priority at the moment. He wanted to get to the bottom of what was making a little girl look so scared, and a normally volatile one start getting quiet. That bugged him most, hands down. Something was wrong.

Arden only nodded solemnly, not quite being up for saying anything for a moment immediately after agreeing to something so important. "Tuesday?" she asked. Really, she could just as well do it tomorrow, but even Arden needed some time to mentally ready herself for both breaking one of her father's biggest rules and finally putting to rest the issue of the letters. Then, thinking about places to meet she added, "In front of the Apollo?"

"Sure. In the morning?" Roy suggested. "I can be there bright and early, like seven." Which would give them the entire day. Or, in theory it would, anyhow. He wanted enough time to do things right for her, not wanting her to get into trouble, but definitely wanting to help with this. And, he didn't really know anyone else who could. Plus, if anything happened? Roy was more confident he could take care of it somehow than someone else.

Arden's nose scrunched up in distaste at the early time -- what kid liked getting up early, much less being somewhere early? But on this matter even Arden, worried plenty about her dad possibly finding out, actually understood the prudence in meeting early and giving them plenty of time. "Alright," she finally nodded, still a bit apprehensive about the whole matter to let herself feel that wonderful rush that ran through her when defiant. Then, for once forcing a subject change instead of going with the hectic flow that was her usual mind, she said, "I want my ice cream in a cone." Well, it was more a demand than a request, which in and of itself wasn't unusual. But this time that characteristic tone of hers seemed more forced and intentional, unlike her usual natural bratty-ness.

Roy chuckled a little bit. "As the lady commands." he told her, smiling at her. Sure thing. Ice cream in a cone. He could do that. And maybe, he could help her out with her home situation too, or at least figure out what that situation was. It was bound to be messy, that much he thought he knew. It just felt that way, with her reactions, and everything else. Hopefully it just wasn't too messy.

Even if her words weren't coming in the form of the usual free-flowing tangent, she kept on the ice cream issue, possibly forcing herself too even if she didn't think of it like that. "And we can't get the same thing," she added, as if this were some profound law in the realm of ice-cream buying. When really? Most of it revolved revolved around Arden's desire to try as many flavors as possible without being stuck with a flavor she didn't like. Basically she could get a flavor she knew she would like and still be able to try a flavor off somebody else's to see if it was better than hers or not. If it was then that flavor was put in the Safe To Eat column, and if it wasn't then it was tucked away in the Ick column and she resumed eating the rest of her own Safe To Eat cone.

But Arden wasn't completely unaware of things: she did know that Roy was paying for this even though he didn't have to and that some things, like ice cream cones, weren't as usually enjoyed by street kids as they could be for her. "What kind are you getting?" she demanded, letting him get the first choice on flavors here.

"Apprently something that's different from what you're getting." Roy told her, though it was mostly because he hadn't thought about it. He'd suggested ice cream not because he wanted some, but because he wanted to do something for her. Thus, it really didn't matter all that much what he got. "Chocolate?" he suggested after a second. The shop was just up ahead. "Maybe I'll get a sundae." He didn't know if he would or not. They were mroe expensive. And even if he'd got money from Ava, he couldn't go spending all of it. Still, the ice cream wouldn't dent his take too much. She'd been pretty generous.

"You should get a sundae," Arden agreed, nodding with the sage solemnity as if they were discussing a much graver matter than ice cream flavors. "Or a banana split." Then, after a moment of serious thought, she listed her flavors whether Roy wanted to hear it or not, "I'm going to get Strawberry. Or Peach or Raspberry if they have it. But sometimes some of them don't have peach, but they almost always have strawberry. But not pistachio," her nose crinkled again in distaste there, "I hate pistachio. It's all green like vegetables and it just looks gross."

"Strawberry sounds good. But maybe I will get a banana split." he said. If he was going to be splurging anyways, maybe he should just kind of go for it, and call it good. It was just ice cream. Plus, he didn't want Arden to think he was spending his last pennies. Sure, it was close to the truth, but that didn't mean he had to advertise it. Especially to her.

There was only a slight pause before Arden asked, "Could I try a bite? You can try a bite of mine." Hence the point of getting different flavors. "Or you could have two bites, since one bite of a banana split is worth two bites of regular ice cream." Even though she had never come across any such thing, Arden touted that statement as if she had consulted some sacred authority on ice cream etiquette.

"Sure, you can try a bite." he told her. "And I'm pretty sure I'll be good with mine. I don't need the payback." he told her. Then they stopped at the ice cream place, and he held the door open for her. "Go ahead and tell them what you want." he told her, not about to order for her, though it was less because he didn't want to, and more because this was Arden, and she might get snippy over someone doing something like that.

Arden actually wouldn't have noticed either way whether Roy ordered first or she did, and even if she did she wouldn't have cared at all. But then again, with Arden, things that didn't bother her one moment may a be a particular grievance in another one and vice versa. The girl certainly wasn't a steady personality. She bent forward a little bit, taking a moment to survey and scrutinize the different flavors before her as carefully as a captain would survey the options for their kickball team. They didn't have peach, but they did have both strawberry and raspberry along with a bunch of other flavors; including, Arden was none too happy to notice, pistachio. "I'd like a raspberry," Arden told the lady standing on the other side of the ice creams, "in a cone."

Roy let Arden pick out what she was getting, and he ordered a banana split after all, and then paid for the ice cream. He honestly couldn't remember the last time he'd had ice cream. He knew he had at some point, but it was a distant sort of memory. Not one that he could even really place, beyond it was before everything had gone bad with his family. Waiting until they got their stuff, he went and sat down at a booth, so they could eat in peace. He did slide his over first though, so she could get a spoonfull, as promised.

Using her spoon, she wasted no time digging in for a bite of his; although Arden was careful not to make it an obscenely large one. And, even if he had previously declined it, she still offered hers just in case he changed her mind. Roy was a friend. Which meant Arden was less inclined to be rude intentionally and even -- when she caught herself -- made some efforts towards being considerate.

Roy, at the last minute, did use his spoon to snag a little taste of hers, since she re-offered. "Hey, pretty good." he said, smiling. Then he started in on his. "Which do you like better?" he asked. For him, he really just decided he liked ice cream. Not that he'd be able to have it all that often, but it was definitely good. Maybe he'd get some for Marian sometime, or Madeline, when he was feeling slightly less like strangling her.

Arden, after some initial thought, shrugged. "I dunno. I like the banana better -- but it doesn't have raspberry," she pointed out, not willing to fully concede the inferiority of her product. "But they're both better than when there's ice cream at school," she added, her mind -- pushing down the troubling thoughts and plans previously discussed -- was now regaining some of that haphazard flow of tangents that her mouth seemed to reiterate without forethought. "They're always in these tiny cups and the ice cream always tastes off and you're given wooden spoons that sometimes break off and gave me a splinter once." Her mouth briefly contorted into an annoyed sharp frown at that memory before the frown melted away with another bite of her ice cream.

Roy wondered if she went to a better school than he did. They'd not had that when he'd gone, he was sure of it. He'd remember. Or, he told himself he'd remember, school was a pretty dim sort of memory for him. his education was patchy at best, and there were huge blank spots in it. Marian would remember better. "Doesn't sound very nice." he said. "So, guess you'll have to stick with the good kind." he said, opting for that for a response rather than nothing at all.

Arden, however, was actually perfectly fine with saying nothing at the moment as she worked on her ice cream. She merely nodded at Roy's statement; it wasn't especially hard to agree considering he was supporting her earlier comment anyway. However, in the middle of a bite, Arden thought of something and her eyes widened just the slightest bit in surprise and embarrassment at it. So, forcing the bite down with a swallow, she said, "Thank you." Which probably should have been the first thing out of her mouth when she first got the ice cream, but Arden wasn't always well-aware of being polite even when she wasn't throwing herself fully towards bratty-ness.

"You're welcome." Roy said with a smile, seeing she looked all embarrassed. But really, he was kind of surprised that he'd gotten one at all. He'd take it. He didn't mind that she wasn't the world's best with manners, even though weirdly, his own were pretty spot on. He might not be so good with some things, but manners? Those he had. Still, he could take Arden in stride, and he was just happy that she seemed good with his gesture. It made him feel a little better for things, less like he owed her. That, he was counting as good.