Welcome to Gaia! ::

A man sat at the bar, a bottle of clear liquid dangling from one hand. Beside him was a vividly colorful eyesore of a child that seemed to be missing half the hair from one side of her head. She did not seem to be the most civilised child; she was berating the man, apparently her father, for his drinking habit.

"DADDY you're stupid! An' you totally deserve the horrid hangover you're gonna have, jerkface, an' I'm not gonna even try to get Mama Li or Mama Aurelius to make you some coffee this time. I'un care what you think is wrong with you, you're the daddy and I'm not the mommy!"

He sighed audibly and patted the child on the shoulder. "That's why you have so many mothers," he slurred. Strangely enough, he seemed to have a coherent line of thought, despite all the alcohol apparently running through his system. He didn't look like the type to drink- his hair was a stiff military crew cut, and he was wearing some sort of uniform. But it wasn't arguable that he was indeed drinking- with a child to care for, too.

The child snorted and detached herself from the bar stool with a grumble. Looking around, she seemed to spot Ranis and Keirro- an easy feat, since the restaurant really was otherwise deserted- and made a beeline for them. She pulled herself up beside Ranis's high chair, black and bitten fingernails curling over the edge as she craned her neck and stretched herself in order to be able to stare at the weird boy. "Resist the system, man," she said firmly to Ranis, definitely quoting one of the old hippies from the nearby park. "The Man's trying to hold you down." She gripped the top of the nearby table, scrabbling for purchase on the mosaic top before managing to pull herself into a chair. "'M Asimov. Can I sit with you?"

She made a derisive sound. "Daddy's too drunk to care, and my mamas don't go out with us. He embarrasses them." Taking that as acceptance, she settled her chin in her hands and looked at Ranis. For a moment, she screwed up her eyes, as if thinking about what she wanted her response to his growl to be. Then she growled back, making her green eyes narrow; the change in light turned the whites black. "So there!" Asimov leaned back in her chair, pleased with herself.

Asimov sighed. "Six," she said, sticking her tongue out at Ranis. The likelyhood of Keirro ever distracting her or giving her significant enough hints was slim to none. The technicolor child wasn't looking for a psychologist, and anything sort of Hey look, I'm a psychologist! would get her to acknowledge that.

And anyway, she didn't know what a psychologist was.

"How old are you?" The question was addressed right back at Keirro, though she was looking at Ranis.

"So he's only a littlie?" She pouted and fiddled with her scarf, unaware of exactly how cute that made her look. "Daddy's thirty-four. He acts like a littlie, though." Instead of leaving Ranis be, Asimov moved closer to him and stared, eyes narrow again. Something about her demeanor dared him to try and do something about how close she was, especially as she made another face at him.

Instead of crying out as another child might've done, she pinched Ranis's arm hard, around the elbow, where there were more nerves and less skin. "I fight back!" Asimov's voice was maybe a couple decibels above the recommended indoor vocal range, but it wasn't too extremely loud. With a grumble of discontent, she pulled her hair out of his fist and made a face again, scrunching up the heterochromic eyes.

For a moment, Asimov gave Keirro the most '********' look she could summon up, which was pretty '********'. It was rather obvious that no one had ever, ever told her to apologize to anyone before. She looked at Ranis for a moment and made a face. "Sorry, littlie," she said, as she had not ever heard his name. "But you started it, so I'm prolly not as sorry as your mama wants me to be."