Giving an Out
3rd of November 2006 A.D.
The you that steps out of Black Rider and onto Wilson's porch is not the girl who used to sneak out with Rosie and be caught by her parents. Your looks are much closer to those of Margaret Carver, and were you to enter a boardroom and start a salespitch, no one would find it strange. Everything, from the heels of your shoes to the subtle yet undeniable wealth of your synthetic diamond jewelry is designed to make you look respectable, in a non-threatening way. You are still you, and Rosie's parents will recognize you as such, but you are still someone they will have to take seriously.
Lost 3 Essence -> Now at 12/15 (Empathy, Subterfuge and Etiquette Excelencies)
That attempt almost takes a blow the moment you step out onto the driveway as Rosie's little brother, all suited up for winter in a green jacket and hat sends a snowball spinning your way, presumably, hopefully in the hopes of hitting his equally suited up friend.
"Shit, sorry mrs!" the boy squeaks, only looking more horrified when he realizes he can now add swearing to his list of sins. "Didn't mean to swear either. Don't tell dad..."
Even as you put on your best reassuring smile you mark that he seems to be a lot more worried about his father than his stepmother.
"Are... are you Rosie's friend?" the boy asks with all the befuddlement of someone asking if you are e leprechaun, even though he has seen you around especially of late as you have been helping Rosie with her magic. "You look... grown up and stuff."
"People tend to do that," you point out mildly as you head to the door.
There you are greeted by Mrs Wilson looking pinched and worried, Rosie looking pregnant and worried and Jared... who sounds and acts a lot more cordial than you have ever seen him. Maybe it's like osmosis, the way some plants turn to face the sun Jared instinctively smiles at suits.
'You OK over there,' you send Rosie a look that has nothing to do with magic and everything to do with knowing each other for more than half of your respective lives.
'As good as I'll ever be,' her answering shrug says.
Alas not all the signals you are getting are that nice to see, the way Jared keeps fidgeting with his hands, his wedding band is a way of reminding himself it's there to counteract the fact that he's attracted to you, which is just... eww. You
really do not want to think about that to any depth.
"There are so such varied and just torments you could condemn him for his presumption Majesty," Usum offers, because that is what you need now, mental images of people having their eyes flash frozen and exploding in their skulls.
Mrs Wilson by contrast looks tired, not in the physical sense, you know what that looks like all too well, the lines on her face the root of it more insidious, there is nothing real behind that smile beside nebulous concern for what you are about to say, another variable to plug into a a day lived in auto-pilot and she does not even know she's doing it or does not want to admit it at least. After all she's made it hasn't she, the nice house, the steady income even Rosie's pregnancy is something that's been 'handled'. That is the word she uses as small-talk turns to the reason for you visit, it might as well be her motto. Maybe you're being too harsh, but hers seems to be a life handled with oven mitts.
Rosie mentions the 'job offer' at Chicago Synthetics first, eager to get out of this house, but you quickly pick up the thread, talking excitedly about the opportunities of working for an up and coming start up, implying that you have an in with the company, maybe a familial one and are using it to get Rosie a foot in the door. Jared of course is absolutely brimming with advice and complaints about state taxes, which are apparently all 'stiffing the work of honest American Business', you can hear the capitalization in that one so you assure him that Chicago Synthetics is a one hundred percent US capitalized, a new industry for a new millennium. When Mrs Wilson manages to work up her nerve to get a word in edgewise about the very real concerns of a new mother working in an entry level position in a start up you bring up the health insurance plan, which is generous but not absurdly so which leads to your admission, 'reluctant', but firm:
"I'll cover any of the other medical bills that come up."
On the balance it is a ludicrous thing for someone who is seventeen and still living with their parents to promise, but you had been preparing the ground, speaking, gesturing emoting like someone ten years older, showing insight and an ability to talk about tax law without gouging out your own eyes, which you assume is the trial by fire of being an adult.
"It's my money and it's enough. I want to do this, I want to help and in the long run I think we can help each other. We can get an apartment..."
Rosie had balked at you buying her an apartment of her own , ability to make money out of thin air or no.
"It's hard work taking care of a baby, not easy to do when you're studying, especially not when studying
and working." Mrs Wilson sounds like she is speaking from experience.
As he tends to do when his wife gets more than a dozen words in Jared opens his mouth to speak, probably to argue on your side. You beat him to it.
"I know, mom said as much to me, we're going to have to hire someone to help probably, but the numbers work out when I when you go over them..."
"We couldn't possibly let you..." Rosie's mother starts.
"
I think it's a capital idea," Jared buts in. Who the heck says 'capital' anymore? At least the fae and ghosts have the excuse of being older than dirt. "Margret here is a very responsible young lady with a bright future ahead of her."
What do you do?
[] This is about as good as it is going to get, take Rosie out for a coffee so she does not have to deal with this at least for the rest of today
[] Try to reassure Mrs Wilson further
-[] Write in how
[] Write in
OOC: Your rolls were pretty bad.. for an Exalt, by which I mean you succeeded on a human scale not a divine one. 
