Meet the Parent


colette_icon.gif joanna_icon.gif tasha_icon.gif

Scene Title Meet the Parent
Synopsis Tasha brings Colette to meet her mother. Awkwardness and acceptance ensue, even when the "F bomb" is dropped.
Date June 2, 2010

Joanna's Condo

Ten feet of snow on the ground in June is as miraculous as it gets around New York City. It's hard to imagine that any single person could've been responsible for the weather, but that's all that is being plastered across the news. Fear-incuding paranoia playing off of Governor Malden's statement that it is believed that an Evolved terrorist is to blame for the winter weather that has claimed tens of thousands of lives up and down the east coast.

For all the seriousness of that very topic and for all the impact it will have on the lives of New Yorkers, at least the cabs are running on time again. Pulling up to the curb of Solstice Condominiums, a yellow cab parked up against a shoveled snowbank looks like something that should be seen in January, not the beginning of June. When the door opens, there's a squeal of surprise from a young woman setting one booted foot down in the slushy snow melting on the sidewalk.

Staring up at the brownstone condos, Colette Nichols opens her mouth in now silent amazement of yet another similarity between she and the young woman still in the cab. Dark brows furrow and the warm breeze blowing across the cool snowbanks catches her dark hair, swnding messy locks now grown in past her chin to blow across her face.

One hand rises up and Colette uses it to shield her good eye from her hair, turning to look back down into the cab where Tasha is paying the cab driver. "You— your mom lives here?" Colette asks with wide eyes, motioning behind herself to the building, "Your mom is a lawyer and lives here and your dad is a cop and— " flustered, Colette takes a step back onto the curb, lips parted in a wide smile.

"My sister, Nicole, lives in this building and she some kind've… like, lawyer-y thing too I think." The closest thing to a mother and father COlette has, both living seperate, both working similar jobs, and at least one living right here in the same building.

"If you had a goatee I'd say you're my evil twin!"

Not quite like that.

After paying and tipping the cabbie, Tasha blinks with surprise at Colette. "Why am I the evil twin?" she asks with a grin. She certainly doesn't look evil at the moment, unless villains are prone to wear bright yellow plaid coats. "And no, because twin-anything is just gross. Let's not go there, all right?" The cabbie raises a brow at that, looking from one girl to the next, then grinning to himself as he pulls away, content to daydream his way to his next fare.

"Not twins. Just … corresponding puzzle pieces, like that song says," Tasha adds, linking her arm in Colette's and walking toward the building. "You think your sister is home? We can say hi after if you want. It is a weird coincidence," Tasha concedes as they make their way to Joanna's brownstone. Tasha knocks once, just out of courtesy, so that her mother can touch up her hair or wash her hands or say a quick Hail Mary or whatever she might want to do before meeting her daughter's first (and only, Tasha would add, with fervent hope) girlfriend — then opens the door herself.

"Mom?" she calls through the entry way.

No hail mary's are needed, though wash her hands she might as she heads out from the bathroom and into the hall followed soon, her shoe'd steps towards the main area. "Natasha?" Slacks, camisole and cardigan and business heels. With the freeing up of the city slowly from clutches of the evil evolved weather, it's time for her to go back to work as the court systems get themselves back in order.

"Tasha, I'm heading to the kitchen, do you want anything to drink?"

There's a bit of a grimace on Colette's face when Tasha walks ahead of her to the house, not so much to the approaching meeting with the young woman's family but rather something about her earlier comment. The grimace fades into a small smile and it's not untilt he cab noisily pulls away from the curb, splashing thorugh a puddle, that Colette is spurred into movement behind Tasha. She crosses the sidewalk, fingers curling around the shoulder strap of her olive-drab courier bag, teeth worrying at her lower lip and simply seeming all the more nervous the closer she gets to the steps up to the front door.

By the time Colette's stepp in behind Tasha, her heart is fluttering in her chest and her face has gone a little red, nibbling on her lower lip all the while. It's much like Tasha's thumbnail chewing, a nervous tic that she's had as long as she can remember being a nervous wreck — which is a long time.

Uneasily closing the door behind herself, Colette looks up and around inside of the condo, her boots squeaking wetly on the floor, causing her to stop and hesitate on going any further. Her appearance in the apartment isn't an offensive one, and for the first time in days she's opted not to borrow something of Tasha's to wear — it leaves an odd first impression. While at Gun Hill, she hasn't had any of her "better" clothing on hand, so the first impression Joanna Renard is given of Colette is much like that of her own daughter.

Silent, awkward and nervous, Colette's narrow figure is draped in a too-large black hooded sweatshirt bearing no designs of logos on it, hood down over her shoulders, unzipped partway down the front to reveal the collar of a brick red turtleneck beneath. Turtlenecks in June, will wonders never cease. Her jeans are a bit of a mess, the only ones she had having old paint marks on the thighs and hips from fingerpainting messes over a year past. The bottoms of the jeans are soaked from melted snow, hem frayed where she steps on the backs of her pants walking around without shoes on all the time, black boots tracking snow in from outside.

"It's okay. She'll like you, I promise," Tasha whispers to Colette, feeling the nervous energy rather than seeing it, as her eyes were peering through the entrance way for signs of her mother, but now she glances at Colette and offers a reassuring smile. "You already met the scary one, remember?" Tasha adds. Of course the 'scary one' didn't know what Joanna knows.

"Coming!" she calls to her mother, then glances at Colette again, giving a little nod of her head to the hall that leads to the kitchen, then leading the way. Entering the kitchen, she moves quickly to Joanna to give her mother a hug and a kiss. "Coffee!" she says exuberantly, then turns to smile at Colette. "Mom, this is Colette. Colette, my mom — Joanna," she glances at Joanna, to check that the name is all right.

so this is Colette. This is the girl who's decided to make a move on her girl and that Tasha's been shacked up with. When the pair enter, the evil hairy eyeball is given to Colette, chin up, eye's looking down from on high. It breaks off when Tasha's arms go around her for a hug and she softens to drop a return kiss. "Hmm, about time you came home. Colette, a joy to meet you. I've heard so little about you" There's an offering of her arms to the other woman who came in with Tasha, and just like that, Joanna is taking the route of acceptance. If it's a permanent thing, then she'll accept it.

"There's not much to eat I'm afraid, I haven't been able to hit a store and I'm sure that there's nothing on the shelves anytime soon the next few days. But I have coffee, tea, even some soda around here somewher and anything in the freezer is likely to be considered fair game. How was your time together?"

Smiling nervously, Colette's trapped in that awkward moment of realization that she's tracked snow all through the condo to the kitchen. Clearing her throat noisily, she does her best attempt at a greeting. "Um, h— hi miss Laz— " woah almost said something stupid there, "uh— m— miss Oliver." Because clearly that must be her last name!

"Um it— we— it was pretty cold?" Colette bubbles up with nervous laughter, tugging the black sleeves of her sweater down over her hands, fingers curling in the elasticy cuffs before offering a mis-matched stare down to her feet. It's only when her head tips to the side and bangs fall away from her eyes that Joanna is given sight of Colette's cataract-blinded eye, and when her white-green stare comes back up to settle on Tasha's mother, it's all the more obvious.

"Boy she— she really looks like you," Colette admits with a smile, nose wrinkling, "I can tell which parent she gets all her looks f— from." Oh god that sounds awkward. Colette's hands tuck away in the pouch at the front of her sweater, shoulders hunch forward and she offers a nervous smile to her shoes.

"It's Renard, actually," Tasha mumbles a little, cheeks blushing as she hopes that her mother doesn't pick up on the fact that Colette thinks Oliver is a last name in the family. It is the name of her grandfather, and it's almost her middle name. "Colette's just confused. Remember, Colette? My full name's Natasha Olivia Renard-Lazzaro. Not Oliver-Lazzaro. Renard would be kinda weird for a middle name, right?" Ha-ha, silly Colette is the tone here, before Tasha turns back to her mother.

"Cold. Very cold. Otherwise pretty uneventful." If you don't count getting mauled by feral dogs eventful. "You glad to be home? I'm sure hanging out with Dad was a blast. Was Praeger in your suite, or was he off in Hawaii or something getting a tan?" She moves to the coffee pot, reaching into a cupboard to help herself to two mugs.

That Colette just called her the name of her father in law has not gone unnoticed and the look that is sent Tasha's way is easily decrypted by her daughter. She's not a prosecutor or a lawyer and not notice little details. Little details can make or break a case. There's Oliver, and there's olivia.

'It's Ms Renard, but it's okay. I'll allow you that one mistake, but I expect perfection next time" Is a gracious and joking tone of voice. This is not Vincent and there's a dip of her head in acceptance of the compliment."She has her fathers chin and nose, but not his personality thank god. Coffee should be done in a few moments if Tasha wants to show you where to put your shoes and there should be some slippers in her room if you want to wear those instead"

The milky pupil is also noticed.

There's a certain plateau of awkwardness that Colette usually reaches on meeting someone new for the first time, but there's something unusually serious about meeting someone's parents for the first time. Tamara's family was, largely, a mystery to Colette that she never had the capacity to plumb or explore with any certainty. Her own family is something of a sore spot, outside of her sister that means the world to her. So in this, the situation Tasha's flung her into is something of an anomoly, and one that brings out an anomolous reaction from Colette.

Swallowing awkwardly, the young woman dips her head down into a nod and creeps forward towards the island in the middle of the kitchen, slowly unshouldering her courier bag and letting it set down on the stool she's closest to. An askance look is afforded to Tasha, then up to Joanna before the teen boosts hersekf up into the stool beside the one her bag had gone into, bending one leg to reach down and start unlacing her black boot so that she doesn't track melted snow around the floor any further.

"Vincent doesn't seem that bad," Colette admits perhaps a bit too familiarly, not really thinking about the implications of knowing who her father is. "I mean, like, you know— he's nice for being him?" It's an odd thing to say, but the sheepish smile and duck of her head that she gives is at least some resemblance of consolation to the fact that she has really no idea how to properly do this whole meet the parent thing.

Then, of course, her boot is clunking to the floor after slipping out of her fingers, revealing a purple and pink striped sock that is, arguably, Tasha's.

Grabbing a towel, and dropping it to the floor, Tasha pushes it along with her foot all the way back to the door, where she pulls off her Doc Martens and sets them on a mat meant for such things. "Sorry, I forgot. It's been a while," she calls, both to her mother and Colette. Now in just black and green striped socks, she pads back into the kitchen, just in time for the mention of Vincent.


"You only think he sounds nice, but wait til you meet him," she ad libs. She's not a bad little actress, given her many years in the school plays, where she both painted the sets and starred in lead roles.

"And I do not have my father's nose," Tasha argues, one hand reaching up for her own rather small and straight nose, which thankfully lacks the downward dip that makes her father's so very Vincent. "I have his stature and his eyes but not his nose. Thank God for small favors."

She sticks her tongue out at her mother before heading back to the coffee pot to fix three cups of coffee, just the way each of them likes it. "Were there any men at the Corinthian that were interesting? Not like you could really hit on them with Dad around. Bummer." Tasha clearly has no problem if her mother dates someone else — there's no childish fantasy about reconciliation between her parents; in fact, she'd probably be angry if they did.

'Tasha's father, is Tasha's father and he wasn't quite like he is now, when I met and married him. Don't let him bulldoze you, steamroll you or otherwise bowl you over. Be honest, don't lie, stick to being you and don't pretend to be someone else and don't try to schmooze or flatter him. It'll just make him wonder what you want and dislike you"

Cups are brought out, laid out just so along the counter, lining up the handles like some type A personality. Next come sugar, cream. spoons. "You hurt my little girl" Because of course, Tasha is still and will always be her little girl. "I will snap you like a twig" Spoken dead calm and half lidded eyes staring right into and past Colette.

Grimacing somewhat awkwardly, Colette ducks her head down and ceases unlacing her other boot to look up and over to Tasha, then Joanna with wide eyes. "I lll— " woah too early to say that in front of her mother, "I— would— I would never. Uh— hurt her, you know." Taking every single thing seriously, Colette stares wide-eyed at Joanna, then slouches forward and slowly slides off her other boot more delicately than the last. That boot is more quietly laid down on the floor with the other, and Colette slides off of the stool and down onto socked feet — the other a blue argyle and not matching the pink and purple striped thing in the least — before bending down to pick up both boots to try and discern where they're supposed to go.

"H— hey did— did you know my sister lives in this uh, like, right around here?" It's with nervous, bubbling laughter that Colette dives headlong into further conversation, her attention on Tasha but words delivered for Joanna. "She— uh— she's Daniel Linderman's personal assistant and she did some campaign managing work for um, that— guy who almost was President but quit or something?" Her understanding of the political situations of the world are about as manifold as her understanding of how to deal with Tasha's mother.

That is to say, poor.

"Mom," Tasha says, brown eyes wide with mortification that her mother just threatened her girlfriend. Never mind that Joanna gave the same speech to Dane when she met him back in the fall — somehow it seems more embarrassing and less cute when delivered to Colette.

Probably because Colette might take it seriously, where Dane just laughed it off. And then proceeded to hurt Tasha anyway.

"She's just kidding. She's never injured anyone yet," Tasha tells Colette, hurrying to take the boots from her and heading toward the door to put them on the mat there beside her own. "That I know of, anyway," she adds when she returns, eyes jokingly narrowed in suspicion at her mother. "Thing is, she knows all the right people to get herself out of trouble, right? And really? I didn't know Nicole did that sorta political — wait, she works for Linderman?" Her eyes widen at that name — had Colette mentioned it before? If she had, the connection to the name of the man and the name of the act that she thinks is utter unconstitutional bullshit just became clear.

'Quite a few people live around this area. That's interesting though" THe seriousness fading to a smile. 'I know enough people to possibly get off scott free, though I'm sure her father would happily dispose of a body or two" Enough said on that, she's done the requisite you hurt my baby talk.

"Sounds like an interesting sister and someone high up on the list of people one should know. How did you meet Tasha Colette?" The coffee pot bleats at it's completion and she's bringing the pot over, careful in her pouring and an approving look to Tasha taking care of the shoes.

"She… was…" the words are said slow and searchingly, "well— she was— " mismatched eyes flick over to Tasha, brows furrowed and lips pursed before her attention settles back on Joanna. "She was— with friends of mine. I'm pretty sure I met her through um, p— Pastor Sumter." That's a good, safe, person to mention. Everybody lovesa a good Pastor!

"We… uh, we sort've— it— I volunteer at the Lighthouse!" Colette stumbles all over herself, bubbling with nervous laughter again as she steps over to the island in the kitchen, rising up on her toes ad she leans forward against the counterspace. "I— I help my friend Gillian who does stuff there and I'd known her through Joseph— um— Pastor Sumter— so… so we just sort've ended up together." There's the first honest smile Colette's given since coming here. "We— just… sort've…" her brows furrow together, "we just sort've happened."

How hadn't they come up with a cover story? A plausible one? That Tasha would be willingly hanging out with a pastor is not something her mother's likely to buy. Tasha's dark eyes flicker to her mother's and then she closes them, reaching for the cup of coffee and taking a long swallow, wishing perhaps it were something cold and strong and alcoholic instead.

"The … I kinda got involved with a … support group. After the… attack." Well, that much is true. The Ferry is a support group, but not for victims of muggings and sexual assault. "I came here on sort of an errand for that group, which led me to Pastor Sumter, and that's why I was on Staten Island during the storm." It's 98 percent the truth — just like she's 98 percent chimp. Close enough!

Not close enough. The corners of Joanna's mouth are wrinkled, looking back and forth between the two. She can't quite put her finger on it. Almost. Something is off. Since her daughter is not, and never has been religious of sort. Neither really has Joanna been. Fingernails do a one time ratatatat on the counter, the look tossed on the two is one of questioning. Expectation. Demand.

Dark brows go up and Colette offers an askance look to Tasha, then Joanna. She reaches out for her coffee, grimacing awkwardly as she stares down into the dark brew steaming away inside of the mug. There's a nervous swallow, a look afforded to the (barely) younger girl and then over to Joanna. Normally Colette can get off with a flash of a chipper smile and then running when things go from bad to worse, but she can't rightfully just turn invisible and prance out of the condo, though it is still on the list of last resorts.

"W— what?" Colette tries to say with all honesty, her lips twitching into a smile before she nervously laughs and asks, "D— do you have any milk?" and motions down to her coffee with a pointing finger.

Tasha pushes the creamer container toward Colette, her eyes down as she watches it move across the surface of the counter before lifting them with a slight smile. It will be okay, that smile says. She turns to look at her mom, her eyes a little wider, looking very much like a younger version of her self caught in a lie — big eyes, the threat of tears, the picture of contrition.

"I'm not lying," Tasha finally says. Because she mostly isn't. "I just left out a detail or … three." She glances at Colette, then reaches for her hand, squeezing it for reassurance — both to Colette and for herself.

"When we got attacked… Dane… he manifested a power, Mom. He was a pyro. He hurt the people who were…" her voice cracks and she looks away. She isn't going to tell her mom about the innocent homeless men who were killed in that alley. It's an ugly enough truth as it is.

"There was a support group but it was more for him. I … I came back to New York because I've been helping Ferry."

'No milk, only cream, I apologize" Oh so carefully worded, as she pushes the little miniature porcelain jug that contains the white substance towards Colette, listening to Tasha. "omitted a detail. Or three. Or four, or five" Someone is unhappy that her daughter saw fit to omit. Likely would be even more if she knew the ferry weren't really a support group. There's a glance to Colette to see if the young woman would corroborate what her daughter said.

The look of shock on Colette's face pretty much says it all. She tries to talk, that much is evidenced by the shrill noise in the back of her throat that might have been words, if only they hadn't been stolen by the sheer dumbfounded expression on Colette's face and the what did you just do look in her eyes. It's not a mad look, but it is one of downright confusion and surprise. Honest, as they say, is the best policy; except for when you're doing something illegal, than it is most definitely not the best policy.

Colette's answer comes framed in the form of a question, as if she were on Jeopardy or something. "What was it that we did?" There's a subtle stammer at the end there, a little extra emphasis on the word did before she reaches out a trembling hand for the creamer, eyes wide when she looks up to Joanna, watching Tasha's mother awkwardly.

This is not the best time to realize how much they look alike or start thinking hey Tasha's going to look great in thirty or forty years still! But Colette's mind works in mysterious ways and right now she wishes she could be thinking about anything else.

"What was what we did?" Tasha says to look at Colette with some confusion, before glancing back at her mother with wide eyes. Silence is never good. Not in the Lazzaro family. "I'm not saying that Colette is Ferry, or … who did you say? A pastor? I don't even know him," she lies, trying to keep any one else's name out of trouble.

"I came into contact with her through Ferry. The errand I was doing was bringing a kid, an Evolved kid, to the Lighthouse. The people in Boston asked for someone to run him, make sure he was safe, and I was the best choice because we looked enough alike that he could be my kid brother and we wouldn't get questioned as much, right? And… I got him to the Lighthouse. Not everyone at the Lighthouse is Ferry."

Joanna's fingers pinch the bridge of her nose with a sigh. "Your father is going to have a field day with this when he finds out. Thank god you're too old for him to start blathering about demanding custody. Don't tell your father about this… Ferry support group. Do you understand? God only knows how much he will jsut…" Do something.

She unpinches her nose, her hand coming to rest on that of the two women's that are together. "It's all well, and good. She must like you Colette, she's sharing her socks and she never shares her socks with me these days. You are both welcome in this home and if you need a place to stay…"

Finally getting her thoughts back together when the panicked screaming miniature puppet version of Colette is done thrashing wildly inside of her head, Colette turns to look at Tasha, jaw trembling and a nervous smile creeping up on her lips. Ducking her head, Colette wrinkles her nose and curls fingers around her coffee mug again, still just holding the creamer before looking up to Joanna nervously. "Um… I— I'm… really sorry for…" swallowing nervously, Colette just shakes her head and pours a little bit of the creamer into her coffee, then settles the plastic creamer jug down ont he counter and clips the red plastic lid closed. "For just… trying to lie to you in your own home?"

Throat hitching with tightness and teeth pressing into her lower lip, Colette ducks her head down and closes her eyes. "I— I'm sorry… I— I've never done this before…" she admits a little more sheepishly, glancing over to Tasha before looking up to Joanna. "I really— I really care about Tasha, I do. I— I'm sorry miss Renard, I— I just— I've never met somebody's mom like this before and— and I just— I know like this whole thing's all— with girlfriends and— " she's starting to splutter words out now, and it's clear by the way she's just rambling that Colette's not just nervous, she's a little scared too.

"I just wanted to protect her and… and I didn't mean to— you seem so nice and i just feel awful and… and I got water all over your floor and my socks don't match and my hair's a mess and I really wanted to make a good impression b— because I— she's so— I just— " Colette missed the part where Joanna seems largely okay with all of this. At least she's not crying, yet.

Tasha's eyes do fill with tears, making good on the threat of crying a few moment's ago on her face. It's clear that it's an empathetic response to Colette's apologies, and she knows it's her fault.

"Don't blame Colette for lying, please," she whispers, tears slipping past her long dark lashes as she peers into her mother's face. "It was totally my fault. Obviously I didn't want you to know I'm with Ferry, because there's a lot of … rumors that just aren't true about them, and they really helped me when I needed them. I wouldn't… I know you think I'm probably a fuck up for dropping out and stuff, but if it weren't for Ferry, I don't even know what or where I'd be. I'm just doing something I believed in, and that's all you ever taught me to do, right?"

She hugs Colette to her side, and then moves to hug Joanna, throwing both arms around her mother for a tight hug. "I love you and I'm sorry I lied to you and I don't want to lie again ever," she whispers. Even if she is still telling some lies, this is as honest as she's been in four months.

Rumors about the Ferry? Joanna wasn't in Vincent's line of work where the street rumors get to him. She's up in ivory towers and preaching from on high in court rooms, putting bad people behind bars and sometimes, unknowingly, the not bad people. "Your apologies are accepted, but lies are unacceptable in this house. This is my home and I don't deserve lies. You know better than that Tasha. These Ferry people sound like they have done good by you"

Her arms wrap around her daughter, squeezing tight. releasing one arm to beckon to Colette since the poor woman looks in desperate need of some affection and approval. "Besides, did I not just say, that if you need a place to stay…"

Swallowing tightly, Colette watches that offered arm, but there's a look from the half-blind teen that implies something other than acceptance, or perhaps something other than comfort. "Thank you…" she softly offers, "but I— I have a thing with— " Colette's hands come up off of her coffee cup and creamer, making a motion around her arms as if to pantomime a hug. "I— I'm sorry it— it's nothing personal I just… it takes a lot for me to open up with someone like that." Which says something for how easily she took Tasha's embrace moments ago.

While the look of fear on Colette's face has subsided some, there's a certain nervousness still present in her. The lack of vitriolic reaction from Joanna has Colette on edge, no one has so easily accepted this truth before, which makes her a little uneasy. "You raised… a really fantastic daughter," is what Colette instead returns with once she's collected her words. "She is— the sweetest, most— most caring person I've ever met. She's really good with kids too, even if she won't ever admit it."

Wrinkling her nose and offering a slightly more honest smile, Colette furrows her brows and dips her head down into a subtle nod. "You… raised a really wonderful daughter."

Glancing through teary eyes at her mom, a look of gratitude and love, Tasha turns to wrap an arm around Colette's waist even as the other skitters away from Joanna's offering of an embrace. More tears slip from those brown eyes down her cheek, but she doesn't let go of either woman to wipe them away.

"If any of that's true," Tasha says, cheeks blushing as she hugs the two most important women in her sides, "it's because she did raise me, and because I take after her."

"Now now, I can't take all the credit. There was a nanny… and her father. He had a hand in this. It does take two" Colette's refusal is polite, so Joanna won't make a fuss, letting her daughter go so she can go to her girlfriend. It's still a little hard to wrap her head around the fact that her daughter likes girls and not just guys, and that perhaps this is serious if they're sharing sock.

"I hope you're both being careful, in … you know… bed. Using… protection"

Were she not several shades redder from the embrace in Joanna's presence, what Tasha's mother says just elicits a look of confused embarrassment from Colette. Her eyes stare wide and unblinkingly at the lawyer, her mouth hangs open and one brow twitches confusedly, her head dips down, brows furrow and it actually — honestly — looks like she's trying to puzzle out how that even works at all, which in a way is a tacit admission of guilt there that she's sort've puzzling it out all stupefied instead of just blurting out awkward denial.

About the time Colette realizes that little gem, her blush has feathered down to her neck and turned her ears fire-engine red. Still, she doesn't — can't — actually say anything, because when she tries to all that comes out is a little choked noise of mortified embarrassment.

"Mom." It's not the whiny three-syllable protest but a sharp rebuke. "Annnnd I think that's going to be our cue to go," she adds, gulping down the coffee. Tasha glances at Colette, her eyes a mix of apology, mortification and, yes, amusement at the entire situation. "Look at it this way…" she adds, as she takes Colette's hand and tugs her toward the door where their boots wait.

"I won't be a unwed teenager mother," she calls over her shoulder as she tugs her boots on and opens the door, the chilly air outside a welcome sensation on her flushed, hot and tear-stained face.

"So sue me for wanting to make sure" Colette's red face does indeed say it all. "How about, we all go out for something to eat, or have I mortally embarrassed you enough and I should just nuke a meal in the freezer?" No apology for what came out of her mouth, but there is a smile.

'And here I was ready to be a grandmother" Which is another joke. She's not ready, would not relish it at the moment, so Tasha is so right on that count.

Tugged with Tasha, Colette's only got one boot on where she awkwardly leans against the wall, standing on one foot and trying to lace up her shoes, looking back and ofrth from where Tasha stands on the stoop by the open door and back into the kitchen where joanna stands expectantly. Colette's heart sinks a little, not really sure if Tasha's abrupt exit is some sort've joke or if they're really going to leave Joanna, and the latter thought actually punches her in the heart a little. Not really saying anything but definitely making a noise, Colette reaches out the open door and hooks one arm around Tasha's, tugging her back into the house but leaving the front door wide open.

"Going out to eat sounds wonderful, miss Renard and Tasha would really like to do that." There's a little bit of forcible insistance there, and Colette wrinkles her nose to Tasha, even as she smiles, and turns to close the door with her booted foot, then leans in and presses her nose gently to Tasha's forehead, lifts up a hand and brushes her cheeks dry with her thumb.

There's a look offered, subtly, int hat gesture that says come on before Colette turns to look up and over at Joanna. "Besides, I… bet your mom's got all sorts of embarrassing stories and baby pictures to show me," the teen notes with an impish smile, despite herself and the very up and down manner of this meeting.

"That's how this goes right, embarrassing baby pictures?"


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