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She hated her father when he was sober.

Actually, she pretty much just hated him, whatever his condition in relation to alcohol. Drunk, sober, medicated- it was always the same. Xavier didn't really like her, and Asimov didn't particularly like Xavier either. She just didn't like him more when he was drunk.

But right now he was sober, unmedicated, and being a pain in her neck. The six-year-old sat in the sandbox pretending to play with a doll, back to her father, and waited for him to fall asleep or something. The faster, the better, because she had her eye on a high swing, and she didn't want to lose it to someone whose hair was less colorful than her own. Asimov focused all the creepiness of her heterochromic eyes on approaching children, warding them off with a skill not even the Antichrist could hope to match.

The blessed sound of soft snoring finally reached Asimov's ears. She responded appropriately, throwing the expensive china doll over one shoulder and making a beeline for the swings. Unfortunately, she had become so focused on her goal of the swing that she didn't notice the swing- or Zia near it. With her multicolored hair in one eye and the other firmly fixated on the metallic contraption, she ran right into the woman.

"Watch yourself!" It was a familiar phrase from her father, one he used all the time. "Or, um. Yeah." She made a face, a little moue of frustration, as she used the steps to the slide to pull herself to her sneakered feet.

In return for his gift of a Menacing Stare at 5% interest, she returned his investment with a Menacing Stare at 100% power, enough to melt ice cream. To annoy the boy-girl thing, she climbed up the slide and made to push him down with one hand, clinging to the side of the slide with the other. "Slides don't talk, stupid!" Asimov's voice was maybe a little louder than necessary, but she didn't particularly care.

Asimov scowled. Somewhere on Earth, a blonde computer nerd laughed. And the eyesore on the face of humanity jumped onto the slide alongside River and tried to push him a little further down. "No they can't. 'Cause they're not alive! Mama Aurelius explained this to me!" She made another face and pinched him. "Who'd wear you as a hat anyway? You're all blue. Blue is an icky color."

Either Asimov had no cares for the glares of evil teddy bears, or she was just stupid. Whichever one, she smiled a predatory smile. "Burning your eyes out of your face is a good thing, when you're faced with annoying JERKFACES." It was her favorite bad name, learned from Xavier in one of his more sober moments. "Like YOU," she added, in case he had missed her point.

Asimov took a minute to absorb this. "Okay, that was really, really lame, so... uh..." She made a face. "Didn't you already say I was eyeburny? That kind of reminds me of bunny rabbits. I hate bunny rabbits." If River knew her mothers, he wouldn't be talking like that, because she knew there weren't any camels at home to spit on them. Besides. Any camel that spit on Mama Aurelius would end up denied. In the face.

"Well, you look like a girl," she said, a tad irritably. "S'I wouldn't be talking about my mamas."

"Bah. 's a girl, right?" Instead of taking the hint and backing off, she scooted closer to River. "Makes her your mama, I think. 's what Daddy says. Girls who take care of kids are mamas. Even if they're loud as ********," she quoted, complete with little air gestures to identify it as a quote. "they're still mamas. Or som'thin."

"Bah," she said again. "'m a kid. All kids're smarter. It's when we grow up that we get all... stupid and stuff." After dispensing this invaluable wisdom, Asimov settled on top of the slide with her legs through one of the side handles and her back against the opposing handle. She obviously did not plan to move. "Sides. If you really, really need a mama, I have like six. 's crazy."