RE Fic : Aide-memoire : Ch. 2

A/N;

So I’m sitting in class next to ANBU Ninja Toshyii, being ordered to type more… Whoo…

Toshyii : *Waves* If I had a Kunai I’d be pointing it at your throat. But sadly, I haven’t stolen it off Robert yet.

>_<; You’re eating up word space. Don’t you tell me there’s no such thing!! Don’t give me that--- DDD: *Was demon arm of discomforted-ed’d*

RIGHT.
ON WITH IT.

Resident Evil doesn’t belong to me, naturally :c WHAT, I HAVE NO SNAPPY THING FOR IT WHEN I’M BEING CHOKED.

… I think I molested my capslock

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“No, you’re not going today! No!”

Both Rebecca’s parents seemed startled by her behaviour. There hadn’t been many times where she had been so… Eccentric. Well come to think of it, they hadn’t had a time where they both had to leave her alone at home.

It was Thursday, but Rebecca had to take time off from school. Why? A too simple reason – The poor girl had caught chickenpox on Monday and was basically house bound until it had a chance to pass.

They had managed to get a few days off of work to look after their little girl, however, there were no more days that they could scavenge.

Her parents looked at each other, then to their little girl. Her back was against the door – Somewhat. She was against the things piled against the door. Since she had heard that morning that they would need to find someone to look after her, she had sprung from her bed and begun taking as many objects from the house she could. In front of the door was a compilement of pillows, soft toys and blankets in a vain attempt to barricade the exit.

The little girl seemed very… Determined, for a lighter word.

“No!”

“… Wait here, Rebecca…” Her father said, grabbing her mother’s hand and leading her to the kitchen to discuss this little problem of theirs. Rebecca didn’t move, sure that if she kept that door shut they couldn’t get out anyway.

“She does seem to raise a good point…” Her father said, leaning against the kitchen counter to think it all through.

“What point could ‘No!’ possibly raise?” Her mother asked.

“What I mean is, we can’t exactly leave her here on her own. She’s only four.” He answered with a sigh, shaking his head. Coming up with alternatives wasn’t exactly an easy task, not with their little girl.

“What do you propose we do?” Her mother asked, shifting on the spot.

“Well… I’ve noticed that boy across the street’s still laying around his house.” He mentioned. Her mother tilted her head. She too had noticed him usually just sitting outside of the house, and finding herself wondering why he wasn’t at school either – He had been gone Monday, but straight back Tuesday.

“So are you saying we ask that young man to look after her?” She asked, “That doesn’t seem too wise.”

“Well I don’t know about you, but I’m not going to be asking Wesker to look after her.” He said, “Even if the parents of that Ada girl seem fine with him, he… Freaks me the fuck out.”

“Careful with that language.” She said quickly, “… Though I have to agree with you.”

They both shivered.

“Well then. We could just ask his parents to babysit, then.” She stated, still not very fond of the idea of the young boy looking after Rebecca instead.

“What if they work today, though?” He asked, and then shook his head, “You know what, I’ll just sneak out of the window and ask about it. Make sure that she doesn’t notice, alright?”

Before she could respond, her husband had opened up the kitchen window, and hopped out.

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“So you’re saying that if I can’t, you would rather my boy look after your daughter?” Mrs. Coen asked slowly, standing in the door frame. Mr. Chambers nodded.

“I know it might seem like an irresponsible request but… Considering you’re new here, you’re probably not exactly at running speed with what our alternatives would be. Pretty much, it’s probably the best course of action.” He explained.

She thought for a moment, “I do have to work today… Are you sure you want to ask my son to look after her?” She asked, not seeming keen on it either.

“As I said, it’s the best option, I’d rather not leave her on her own.” He answered, before pausing, “He’s had chickenpox before, right?”

“When he was six. He was such a little hell raiser when he had them.” She answered, before turning. “Billy!” She called. There was a loud whine of ‘What, mum?’ before the boy stalked down the hall. It would seem that he had been interrupted from a nice nap. He stood by his mother, having slept in his school clothes regardless of his absence, and looked at Mr. Chambers. He had a questioning look on his face, understandably.

“Billy, Mr. Chambers here was wondering if you might be able to look after his daughter today.” His mother explained, looking down at him. Perhaps it was an attempt to pressure him into saying yes.

“… Is that that...” He began, fighting the urge to simply state ‘creepy girl’, “Little girl across the street?” He asked after a small pause. Mr. Chambers nodded simply.

“Just so you know, you will be paid for it…” He said, trying to stress the fact that he would get something out of it. Billy crossed his arms and thought it over. He would probably just sit around for ages attempting to read a book from the shelf or something otherwise…

A timer in the kitchen went off, and Billy’s mother excused herself to go make sure nothing decided to start burning.

“I guess so. Can you give me a few minutes?” He asked, giving a neutral sort of shrug. Mr. Chambers nodded.

“I’m going to assume you know where it is.” Mr. Chambers said, before deciding to get a certain question out of the way, “… Might I ask, why aren’t you in school.”

“Uhm…” Billy mumbled, looking away. His expression was pretty much blank – He didn’t seem to be worried or embarrassed by whatever the excuse was, just having a hint of awkwardness. “I got suspended.” He answered.

“… On your first day?” Mr. Chambers asked, raising an eyebrow. “For what.”

“Punched a guy in the face.” Billy answered, looking back to him. Hm, that might make things a bit… Complicated.

“Did he deserve it?” Mr. Chambers asked. Billy looked at him strangely, his expression seeming to read ‘excuse me?’.

“Well, yeah. I’m a fight finisher, not a fight start. I was the only one that got suspended, though.” Billy explained.

“Well, that’s alright then.” He said, turning to leave, “Just climb through the kitchen window when you’re ready. It’s to the left of the drive way.”

“… What?” Billy blinked, but received no reply from Mr. Chambers as he returned back to the house, heading to the left of the driveway. “… Weird people. Whatever.”

Billy stuffed his hands into his pockets and headed off to to his room. He would leave in a few moments, so it was alright to leave the door open. He grabbed his school bag, and tipped out the few contents that were in it. He stuffed a few things in, and a CD, before zipping it up. He threw it over his shoulder, shouted a goodbye to his mother and left for that dreaded house across the street.

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“How long are you staying?”

“As long as it takes for your parents to get home.”

“How long is that?”

“I don’t know.”

“Why?”

“Because I didn’t ask.”

“Why?”

“Christ!”

Billy slammed his head against the arm of the couch. He had been there for a few hours, the clock ticking towards six o’clock, and it had just been continuous questions from the smiley Rebecca. At this point in time, she was kneeling on the carpet, the coffee table brought up close so she could scribble on the paper spread out across it. The things drawn out of them might have looked a bit like a mess, but she was better than most littlies her age – You could at least tell what it was she was drawing. The textas she was using seeming to be wearing out.

“You shouldn’t say Christ.” She said, looking at her ‘work’ while Billy leaned against the couch cushions. That girl certainly was chatty. Chatter than most of the girls in that class he had just entered into. He had never really been much of a ‘chatter’ himself.

He looked over her shoulder at him. “Why aren’t ya talking?” She asked.

“Cause I don’t feel like it.” He groaned, putting a hand over his eyes. She wouldn’t. Stop. Talking.

“Why?” She asked. She had turned, crossing her arms over his knees and resting her chin on them, looking up at him.

“Because I don’t like talking.” He answered.

“Why?”

“I just don’t.”

“Why?”

“Oh come on, give me a break munchkin.”

She pouted at him, moving and hopping up next to him on the couch. “Don’t call me munchkin!” She stated, before poking her tongue out at him, “Nyyyy!” That seemed to backfire. She gave a loud squeak and pulled away as he grabbed the tip of her tongue with his fingers.

“You’re mean!” She stated from the other end of the couch, hands over her mouth.

“That’s what you get.” He stated with a bit of a smirk, looking over at the TV that had been quietly playing past the coffee table.

Rebecca crawled across the couch, putting her hands on his lap before reaching for his face. Billy jumped slightly, slapping her hand away, “The hell are you doing?!”

“What you did!” She pouted, nursing her hand for a moment before trying again. Billy put a hand on her forehead and pushed her to the other side of the couch again, before leaning forward and snatching a red texta off of the couch.

“What are you doing?” She asked, crawling back over to him. He uncapped the texta and grabbed her arm, pressed the tip of it down on her skin, causing her to squirm awkwardly. She quickly yanked her arm back after a few moments, running her hand over the area, she looked down at the marks.

‘I’m annoying’ was written clearly with the red ink.

“Hey!” she protested, rubbing her arm vigorously to try and get the statement off.

“What are you ‘Heying’ about?” He laughed, “Your dots are just telling the truth.” She looked at her arm. All of the lines that made the statement had connected her ‘spots’.

She pouted at him, before grabbing a blue texta from the table as well as his arm. He watched her curiously as she leant over, scribbling on his arm in return. As soon as she had let go, he bright his arm to his eyes to take a look.

‘I’m a jerk.’

It was written quite crudely, but he could understand it and recognize the letters, even if some were bigger than they should be.

He looked over at her for a moment. “You’re surprisingly smart.” He commented.

She tilted her head, much preferring to hear that compliment. “Really? How?”

“Most kids your age probably couldn’t spell that, and would have probably attempted ‘stupid head’ or something like that.” He explained. She smiled brightly, putting her hands over her face and leaning until she was resting on Billy’s lap, giggling to herself. “Are you alright there?”

“Yep!” She chirped, continuing to giggle.

“… Riiight.”

He gave her a rough pat on the back and looked back to the TV, “As soon as you’re over those giggles of yours we’ll get something to munch on.” He stated.

“But you’re a booooy.” She said, moving her hands away from her face to look up at him.

“… So?” He asked, not sure what she was getting at.

“You can’t cook!” She answered with a nod, seeming very sure of the fact.

“You mean your dad never cooks?” Billy ask her. Not that he could cook, but has only twelve, so that was a good enough excuse. Rebecca shook her head.

“Nope, mummy always cooks.” She answered. She rolled onto her back, since she had been on her side, though remained on his lap.

“Wow… Even my dad cooks some times. What an arse.” Billy said, shaking his head.

“Shhh!!” She quickly hissed, raising her hand up to put a finger over his lips. She had to sit up, unable to reach lying down, “Don’t swear! It’s bad!”

“As if every time I swear god kills a---“ He began, but quickly stopped. He had to remember she was four, and would probably be distraught if he finished that statement with ‘kittens’. “Anyway… I’ll just order pizza or something.”

He patted his pocket. He probably had enough money to cover the two. And she was small, so they’d probably only need one medium. He just hoped that what he got paid at the end of the day would cover the cost as well. Being in debt sucked.

“Pizza?” She asked, before frowning. “I don’t eat pizza.”

“… You don’t eat pizza?” He asked, raising an eyebrow, “… What, are you allergic to tomato or something?”

She shook her head, “I like tomatos!”

“Then why don’ you eat pizza?” He asked, feeling like he was turning the tables on the question asking.

“Because mum and dad don’t like me eating pizza.” She answered.

“Why?”

“Cause it’s bad for me.”

He winked at her, “Then we just won’t tell them, will we~?” He asked. “It’ll be fine.”

Well, not telling them wasn’t technically lying… Rebecca convinced herself of that. But what if they asked? But he said it would be fine… She would believe him. She nodded.

“I want something yummy!” She cheered.