Happy Pichu Day !! [c]

Attempted assassinations, major break ins at the school winter formal, and news of increasingly dangerous missions for students being sent out... Things had seemed so peaceful for the last fifteen years, he supposed it was only time for shit to hit the walls again. People in edgy black clothing were now being replaced by assholes in creepy Guy Fawkes masks.

They didn't tell the parents anything. The danger and secrecy had been enough to make him retire almost thirteen years ago, but it was even worse living the civilian role. He stressed enough worrying about Cailin short-circuiting the city grid, or herself - God Forbid - but now a whole new batch of terrorists to deal with...

It didn't scare him as much when he was a stupid kid, but now that he had more to lose and not much he could do about it... He hadn't touched his fucking glaive in years.

He knew better than to fret like something like that right now, but he couldn't help it. He was on edge, in the middle of that peaceful, evening restaurant, with nothing but beautiful candlelight and warm tones around them. It was one of the nicest places in town, with some of the best food, second only to his own kitchen.

Preston forced himself to keep his smile. "God damn, I can't believe it's actually been fifteen years. You're going to make me start graying at this rate." He flipped open a menu, a soft chuckle escaping. "Get whatever you'd like. I've already alerted the waitresses to strike with the cake and song when you least expect it."

What was he, like, fifty? He was going to start graying anyway. Cailin just rolled her eyes over her menu, unsure whether to take that as an innocent joke or a bald threat. "Whatever I like?" she mused aloud, flipping through the heavy laminated pages. "I think I'll get started with the white wine, I don't know."

She cracked a smile despite herself. For the first time in awhile, it felt like she could just relax, between the torrent of prefect work and. Not to mention she hadn't been sleeping well... Just getting away from that big brick mansion for the night helped clear her head and relieve some of the tension in her shoulders, she supposed. Dining out like this, father and daughter, it felt like back to their everyday routine, but this kind of thing seemed to be only reserved for the holidays. Most of that was her fault. But there was really only so much you could take.

"In your dreams, kiddo." He scoffed, keeping his eyes glued to the menu. "I'm not sure you've graduated from sippy cup yet." It was just last week she'd been sitting in some high chairs, right? Way back when she still liked him? Ah, fuck. He was so fucking old now, wasn't he? Preston pinched at the bridge of his nose holding back a stupid laugh.

"Anyway... How is school treating you?" He was quick to recover, shooting his daughter a curious look. "Break up any fights yet?" Or get to any, he wondered, but Cailin wasn't the type to hurt a fly. He'd been ecstatically proud the moment he'd heard she became a prefect.
What a miracle.

The candid answer? Prefect work was frickin' exhausting. So much yelling... It just wasn't how she was wired, but it never stopped her from doing her job. She let her mind drift to Christmas time, and the dragons in the Grand Hall, and felt herself slump. "A couple," Cailin answered honestly. "The prefect suites aren't shabby..." That also wasn't a lie, but it'd be misleading to pretend that everything was just peachy.

She almost mentioned the night terrors, mouth opening to speak, but stopped herself just short. The question twisted itself around in her mouth, blurting out the first tease that came to mind. "Why, how many times did a prefect break up your fights?"

He watched her carefully. It was easy to see when something wasn't right, he knew all her tricks, but he wasn't going to push anything now - not wanting her to dread any lectures on her special day. But she did look tired, poor kid.

Preston sat up a little taller, putting on a brighter smile. "They never had to," He shot her a wink. "They all ended too quick. Besides - your old man's always been more of a lover than a fighter." Unless it came to things like, Neo-Classical Call of Duty or elder Pokemon generations; the important shit, you know. Now that he thought back on it, he never actually fought outside of a mission or the tournament... Or he never swung back, at least. "Your mother, on the other hand..." He chuckled, quieting down as a waitress came to pour them some water and sweep back away from the table.

Ended too quick? There were two ways to take that, but she didn't press. The menu slacked slightly in her hands, a rush of questions lilting out from her chest and threatening to explode out through her mouth, but she had to take a silent moment to recenter herself as the waitress returned. Cailin found herself leaning forward, the menu obscuring less of her mouth. "Nuh-uh. You've never said anything like that." She was still internally shaking off the pang of genuine surprise, showing in the way she'd started to furrow her brow. Her mother? In a fight?

Ah, shit. Did he spill too much? The poor pichu looked like her entire world had been shook then and there. Preston chuckled again, slightly more nervous this time, leaning forward a bit like the two of them were in on some big secret... having to pause and think over his words carefully. Cailin was growing up now, and it wasn't right to keep talking about her mother all as if she were all flowers and roses... or fucking whatever. They weren't talking about Santa Claus (a whole different matter). Some things she was bound to hear about and it was probably best she'd heard it from him first... to a certain point.

"Yeah, yeah... I've told you we were in the Tournament a few times before, haven't I?"

The Tournament. She could picture her dad easily enough, fresh-faced with a cocked grin, lightning. Her mother was more a haze, the blurred face of every actress and teacher she'd ever liked, and trying to imagine her flinging punches or wrestling down classmates—... But Cailin was all ears and all eyes. "You told me you were in the tournament, and mom was there too, but I dunno, I didn't think—... I figured, y'know, she cheering you on, or—..." Cailin couldn't help herself from stammering. "Did she ever win?"

Preston couldn't help but smile, seeing the thrill written all over the young girl's face. "No, not exactly... She got second place." He shrugged a little, tossing the menu down on the table and getting comfortable. "But it was a close fight. There were a lot of people who thought the last match should've been called for her. So, naturally, your mom got a reputation to her after that." His gaze drifted off.

"Your mom wasn't the type to look for trouble, or start shit..." Usually. "Trouble had it's way of finding her though. And there weren't near as many Guardians as there now - or any Unity Link bullshittery to nerf gifts or whatever, so... y'know..." His smirk grew. "She did what she had to. Far as I know, she never lost... but I did help her out of the infirmary, once or twice."

"And we never did the tournament again after that."

Second place! She pictured her mom again, blurry-faced smiling in her Winter Formal dress, the only set of clothes she'd ever seen her in, swinging around a broadsword. Her mom? In trouble? What kind of possible trouble? "The infirmary? Are you serious?" Cailin slouched slightly back in her chair. "She's sounding tougher than you."

Preston rolled his eyes. "Yeah, right. At best, I say we were ... even leveled. You know, I fought her in the tournament once too, but I totally let her win - to be nice." He leaned back forward, lacing his fingers together on the table-top. "But yeah, nobody ever went easy on her and things happened. Your Mama was hot shit." He chuckled and grabbed the free bread the moment it was laid on the table. "She had a good heart and packed a serious punch."

She drank in every word, clinging onto every new scrap of information. They fought each other? Wild... Cailin grabbed instinctively at the bread, worrying away at it in meek silence. After a few minutes without saying anything, she spoke again. "I wish I could've known her. Just for a little bit."

Preston started to wonder if he had straight up scared the poor child, eating away quietly at his bread and trying to pick out sweeter words to say. When Cailin finally spoke, he felt pieces of his heart shatter, and he sighed. "God, Pichu. You're so much like her. You got all the best of her... sometimes I can't tell the difference between you two. He put on a sad grin, staring down wistfully at the table light between them. "You know your mom loved you from the moment we found out about you. I know she's watching now, and she still loves you." He brought his hand up in a quick sign of the cross. "We'll see her again, someday."

He hid the pain best he could and wondered as he always did... would they have gotten along? In truth, Cailin reminder him more often of Auntie Lain than she did of her mother, but she did have her moments. The guilt haunted him, if he hadn't been so young or so retarded, so oblivious, maybe Cailin would have still had her mother around. He didn't regret how he raised her, and he loved Jackson and Idyn just as well, but he knew how it hurt Cailin to wonder over her.

Despite everything, he loved Cailin too much to ever hurt her with the truth. That bitch better have been proud, wherever she was, because Cailin was the best God damn thing since sliced bread.

Just like her. That's all she wanted to be, to fill in the mold of the ideal image she had lovingly built up in her mind. Mom was a concept, a culmination of every virtue and value she'd taken to heart. The few bits and shreds she knew about the real woman were small cornerstones of a broad web of made up stories and jumping speculations. Where there were gaps in her knowledge, she only had her imagination to fill them in.

She smiled at first, but it became pinched. "So would you rate her above or below Taimi?" Cailin meant it to be teasing, but still braced herself for some kind of chastening response. He usually didn't hesitate to defend the other mom.

He shot her a familiar look. She knew better than that, but he didn't want to be the prick of a father to go and lecture his daughter on her birthday. "Shithead," Preston chuckled as he lazily grabbed for another piece of bread, waving it in his hand. "Look, I loved your mom... still do, or a fucking part of me still does, anyways," He paused, on the verge of lecture despite himself and did he best to mindfully cut it short. "Taimi did a lot to help me back then, you could be..." His voice trailed off. Less of a bitch? He would never call Cailin that, though.

The raven-haired had done a lot for him when he was a downright mess, having to worry over her auntie and with Cailin herself to raise. He'd told her thousands of times over how important her step-mom was to him, and her brother and sister, but it always felt like that shit fell on deaf ears.

Fucking teenagers.

He didn't answer the question, but Cailin didn't press, just ending the conversation with an overdrawn eye roll. "Uh-huh." But was it really the same? Her ideal, shining image, and then Taimi? Taimi never filled the mold of an evil stepmother or anything close to it, no matter how much Cailin almost wanted her to be, to justify her dislike. But it didn't change anything. The bread had already disappeared from her hand. When she got a little worked up, food seemed to disappear like that quite frequently. "Well, did Taimi dump you, or did you dump Taimi?" She had never quite figured that part out, and tonight seemed like almost all questions were on the table.

Preston huffed, seeing as Cailin was nowhere near satisfied with his answer. He was trying to give her shit that she wanted to hear, but apparently that wasn't good enough for her. It wasn't as if he couldn't turn around and just talk shit about his ex-fiance with her. He wasn't that big of a prick.

"Neither, we both called it quits. It was a mutual thing." Things could be tense around the two of them some days, especially when it came to the kids, but he couldn't say they were really on a bad note. He thought back to the recent evening they'd shared a few drinks together, but she didn't know about that.