Everyone had a mother...

"I'll get it!" a small-girl voice said from behind the door, and -- before anyone could have answered -- the door was open, and Dante was looking down at a six-year-old with dark shoulder-length hair, a baseball cap, and a set of black wings poking over her shoulders.

"Hi," she said. "Who're you?"

Alana gave an apologetic shrug but stayed quiet. (She also crossed Dante off a mental list of possible fathers -- not that he'd been very high on it to start with.)

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Dante blinked owlishly twice - his reaction time on the kids was speeding up - before shrugging lightly and grinning. "I'm Dante," he said. "And you are...?"

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"Hazel," Hazel said. "This is my mom's room. Do you know my mom?"

"It's okay, Haze," Alana supplied, coming off the bed and going to rest a hand on Hazel's shoulder. "Dante's a friend."

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Dante flashed Alana a quick, grateful smile. "Yeah, I've known her for a while," he said. "She's pretty cool, huh?"

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"I guess," Hazel said, with a sidelong glance to Alana. Her mother had been on Open Circuit, which most people thought was cool, but Hazel had been too little to remember watching it. Izabel was the cool one, as far as she was concerned. "Can moms be cool?"

"Hey, I'm cool!" Alana protested. "I am extremely cool. Even with a kid tagging along."

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"Don't call your mom uncool," Dante said, mock-stern. "One, it's mean, and two, she doesn't deserve it."

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"What he said," Alana nodded. "And if you're mean to me, no candy all weekend."

Over a pouting Hazel's head, she added a quiet, "Thanks. And don't worry, she's not yours. I'm about 99 percent certain."

"I told you, Dad's never been to Fandom," Hazel interjected. "But I can't say who he is 'cause it's gotta be a surprise."

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Dante nodded. His expression held a faint relief, though he was trying to hide it.

It wasn't personal.

"Oh, you're one of those kids," he said, stepping into the room. "You like playing it all mysterious?"

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"Sometimes," Hazel said candidly. "Sometimes not talking about things is really hard and my stomach starts to hurt. Does your stomach ever hurt from not talking about stuff?"

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"Sometimes," Dante said. She was just a kid, so answering her truhtfully didn't mean anything. "But then I just go do something else and forget about it."

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"I try that," Hazel nodded, tilting her head to the side. "Like drawing. Or talking to people about other stuff."

Alana, meanwhile, looked worried. Why did her six-year-old have so much in her life to make her stomach hurt.

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Dante could think of a whole host of reasons, but sharing them wouldn't be making Alana feel any better about it. "You feel better after that?" he asked.

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"Sometimes," Hazel said. "Sometimes I just have to wait until I forget."

Alana inhaled sharply. "Hey, maybe we should go get pizza," she suggested. "Or tacos. You'll like tacos, Hazel."

(When her emotions were in chaos, she went for food or sex. And sex was right out just then.)

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(Another reason they got along, probably.)

"Tacos are good," Dante said, and didn't make the joke because he had some idea of what to do around kids. Not a lot, but some. "I haven't had lunch yet, either. Might have to see about bringing Janie with me, though."

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"Oh, is Janie yours?" Alana asked, before Hazel could jump in again. "Who's mom? Or is she another super-secret kid?"

Hazel ... sighed. Deeply.

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"She's Ada's," Dante said, shrugging one shoulder. "She's a fun kid. Completely impossible, but fun."

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"I wanna meet her," Hazel said, perking up. "And I want tacos. You told me Earth food is the best, Mom. Even if nobody believes you."

"I probably believe me," Alana shrugged, and leaned casually against the nearest piece of furniture. "Ada seems like fun," she said. "I can think of worse things than a kid with her."

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There were a lot of issues involved with that one, for a whole variety of reasons. But Dante wasn't getting into it. Nope.

"I can't complain," he said idly. "I mean, buy a shitload more condoms, yes. Complain, no. I can swing by and grab her if Hazel here wants a playdate."

He was going to figure out the language thing around kids... sometime. Probably.

...Janie's knowledge of swears pointed to no.

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"I know about condoms," Hazel put in. "They go on your thing, and my mom told my dad not to use one once so he didn't and that's how they got me."

Alana had exactly enough shame to look horrified. "How do you know that?" she asked. "And, no offense, but what was wrong with me?"

Hazel shrugged, nonchalant. "Dunno. You guys were arguing. Then Granny told Dad not to say stuff like that when I could hear, except she didn't say stuff. Can I have a playdate now?"

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Dante had the ill grace to crack up, though he hid it behind one hand and tried not to make it too audible.

"If your mom says yes."

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"Mom says yes," Alana said instantly, head still buried in her hands. She couldn't even give Dante any shit for laughing; she would have too, if it hadn't been about her. "Mom absolutely, positively says yes."

A playdate seemed likely to preclude any further horrifying revelations about her future sex life.

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"Then it's settled," Dante said, motioning for the door with his head. "Swing by 322, pick up Janie, then we have a taco date."

He was absolutely still refusing to laugh at the word 'taco'. Partly because of the kid, partly because he didn't even want to pay the person who coined that joke lip service right now.

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Alana hadn't been thinking about any possible alternate meanings of the word 'taco.' They just struck her as good kid food that Dante might eat even if it wasn't pizza.

"We'll meet you at the stairs once our shoes are on," she nodded. "See you soon."

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