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"Sir..." the word didn't sound very respectful coming from the huge reaper lounging in the chair at the poker table. "She did? She did. That too? Jackdammit--no, I'm not cursing at you... okay, fine, I'll take care of it."

He glanced at Chank, then sighed and dialed a number off the top of his head. "Boil--what's that? You're crackin--okay, fine, hang up on me, y'little s**t," he muttered, hanging up his phone again before turning to his old pal.

"Can I borrow one of your boils for a bit?" he asked Chank. "I've got a little problem to deal with."

Vegas sighed, knowing he wasn't going to live this down anytime soon, ESPECIALLY after Chank found out. He tapped on the phone, waiting impatiently for one of the twins to pick up, and took a long drag off of his cigar, blowing a smoke ring. "Jackin' brat--they coulda told me it was under my name--" he muttered.

"Hey, boil," Vegas said. "My good for nothing grandkid hung up on me--probably off getting himself in trouble again, so I'm going to borrow you from your granddad," he said bluntly. "I need you to find someone for me--she's going to school there, name of Terra Bethel... Scythe," he finished, looking resigned to the fact.

"Bring her over, would you? She and I need to have a little talk. She's, far as I can tell, blonde and blue eyed, but from Los Muertos, so she'd talk funny. And is wearing a.." he picked up a piece of paper from his table, "one hundred seed red poncho with black roses on it, and a pair of two hundred seed boots, black."

Not even in town for a week and she already cost him three hundred seeds, he thought with a twitch.

"I'll expect you to do as good a job as you did getting my kid back," Vegas said before hanging up. He could literally FEEL Monica staring at him, expecting an explanation, but instead he sat there, smoking his cigar for a moment, trying to think of how to handle what was apparently a fourteen year old kleptomaniac claiming to be his daughter.

"Well, then," he said finally. "How about that weather?"

Vegas shot him a dirty look.

Terra was wandering the school grounds at that moment, looking for someone that could tell her their phone number so she could put it in her new skelephone and call them later just because she HAD a skelephone. It was red. She was so happy!

The little blonde had no clue that she was in deep trouble with her padre--if asked, she would have said her padre was in deep trouble with HER, because that was the real reason she'd come to school in the first place and--

She got distracted as she saw a piece of paper on the ground. It fluttered in the wind, blowing away a few feet--and she had no reason NOT to chase it. So she did. "Un momento, por favor!" she called to the paper.

Terra blinked, looking up at the robed person curiously before giving him a smile. "Si! I am Terra! Is there something I can help you with, senor?" she added, shoving the piece of paper she'd just caught behind her back, because she'd totally just been caught acting silly. Then she gave him a broad grin, because she was absolutely not doing anything.

Was this about the shop lifting? Oh senora Sally, she hoped not.

"Gracias!" she said, starting to offer her hand, only to realize it was holding the piece of paper. She frowned slightly, cocking her head. "Fright Music club," she read. Then she stopped, dropping the paper entirely as her mind replayed something he had just said. "Some?"

There was more than just Sr. Vegas? What-- "I am... not sure... I--there is more than one?" she asked.

She blinked. Then she burst out a whole rush of Spanish, one that would have had a ton of cursing--had she been the type to curse. But there were plenty of insults and comments that included "burro" in them. When she was done, her shoulders were heaving and her fists were at her side, those silvery blue eyes glaring like Roch on one of his worst days.

"He. Has. A. GRANDSON??" she burst out. "That--that mujeriego!!" And she looked as if she was going to go off yet again.