Chapter Text
Steffi Frohlich sits up in her bed, it had been a very long day with the whole saving her father business, though she couldn’t find it in her to sleep for more than a few minutes. The past 24 hours had given her plenty to think about, even if she didn’t want to humor those thoughts. They wormed their way into the front of her head until she had no other choice than to give it thought. The number of times she narrowly avoided death would’ve been enjoyable on a normal day, the thrill of the fight, the daring heroic acts as she beat the bad guy, all the fanfare and blood pumping adrenaline included. Though today was not a normal day, there had been a lot more at stake.
She got up properly, reattaching the discarded leg and swapping earbuds for headphones, with her mind being fully awake that means there’s no point in trying to sleep, she figures. Steffi looks off into the living room while making her way to the kitchen, Chandra had made herself at home on the couch as the old guest room had been turned into a storage room for her father’s projects long ago. Clearly she had some things to mull over in her dreams, her face was contorted into a grimace while tears slowly trickled down her face. Was she thinking of her parents, or was she thinking of Jones and everything she had done for her. Jones had made her into a criminal in some ways, likely the ‘friend’ Chandra wanted safe and out of the hand of the police. The pink haired vigilante wonders who ratted her out, figuring it's better to think about that than everyone she would have led to their deaths.
Could that also have been Jones? Pinning everything onto one person seems like the easiest choice, don’t have to wonder, don’t have to change the expectations of anyone else. Then again she was kind of an asshole, having the term traitor already attached to her. This act of cruelty would be amiss. Steffi decided to blame everything on Jones in the end, figuring that there wasn't any reason not to.
Her thoughts were now thoroughly off what she was thinking about originally, now dead set on rummaging through her own fridge. Pushing aside leftovers and ready meals her hands grasp onto a carton of milk. She’s heard horror stories of synthetic foods, how they’re practically poison, and how anyone who would willingly consume it was actively harming themselves. Personally she didn’t have any issues with SynthMilk, it didn’t spoil as easily which was a plus. Draining the contents of the carton, not noticing the off flavor until she had already taken a gulp. She scrambled over to the sink, dropping the carton in the process, chunks falling out of the spout. As her stomach rejects her late night, a new thought presents itself, "doesn't spoil so easily, right" Steffi grumbles out between gasps before she hurls again.
Pink hair obscures her face as Steffi rests her head and arms on the countertop, defeated. Her gut was still cramped as if it wanted to continue, but there was simply nothing left to give. She looked over at the fridge, still ajar with the offending object thrown haphazardly in front of it. Cleaning the milk up would be the sensible option, not letting it fester and curdle further until the next unlucky victim happens upon it. However, the person in question is currently in pain, bone tired, emotionally exhausted, and probably has a new memory to shove into some dark corner. She deliberated over her options and chose the one that seemed perfect, putting the milk back into the fridge and shutting it. No spout cover, no cleaning of the already spilt milk, none of that. Metallic clangs sound as the miscreant returns the way she came.
It's a wonder this household still functions properly, an outsider might reckon. However to Heinrich's credit there are cleaning robots. She thought about why Francis dusts everything if she doesn't have to clean, then the memory of her crush hammers the reason in. "Oooh, right. She wants to impress him," Steffi snickers to herself. "Maybe it'll work, though papi is a bit dense so she'll have to spell it out." Lowly laughing to herself, her hand reaches out to her door.
A wave of exhaustion hit her as she grasped the door handle, opening it without caution and causing her to stumble onto her knees, bracing herself from falling completely with her arms. The impact shook her and jostled her broken nose, bringing a sudden jolt of pain. A few of her native curses escaped her lips as she tended to her sore nose. After a minute of doing nothing but making the situation worse she hobbles over to her bed, putting her leg back on to charge and laying back down, not bothering to swap out back to earbuds. Her head drifts to her bedroom door, still wide open, as she drifts to sleep.
Close to an hour later the front door opens and metallic footsteps echo through the halls. 42 walks past Steffi's room, not stopping for even a glance, her signature smile visible even in the low light of night. She simply walks to the guest room, scanning around and digging under discarded projects, bits of scrap, before finally dragging up the thing she was searching for. A shot tablet is graced by the light again before promptly being discarded after 42 retrieves its internal storage. The name "Ishinomori" was written on the card, 42's smile widened a tiny bit at the sight of the handwritten word. She stacked it in a pocket before exiting the spare room, going off to back outside, seemingly not done with the work she was doing earlier. The front door shuts, the electronic lock engaging a few seconds later.
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Night breaks, shattered by the sun's encroaching light, light that filters through the blinds covering Steffi's window and irritating her closed eyes. She groggily sits up, weakly looking around the room, head spinning due to residual tiredness. Shifting to the edge of her bed, she stares down at her leg. Leaning down her hands misjudged the distance between her and the leg causing her to tumble down to the floor, staring up at the roof. The impact of the fall woke her up enough to realize her situation. "Gott, was zur Hölle," Steffi grumbles, reaching over to finally grab her leg and reattach it. She props herself up on her bed before beginning her daily morning routine.
Steffi finishes getting dressed by putting her headphones over her hat in an attempt to hide the new hair trough made while she was asleep, grabbing her phone, and heading out of the room. Her stomach growls, not forgetting her late night escapade quite like she had. She silently hopes that she had thrown it all up before it had a chance to get her sick, the thought of someone taking care of her while she's infirmed made her grimace. Looking off to the left as she enters the living room, Steffi notices Chandra was missing from where she had slept the night before. A distant clinking in the kitchen clued her into where the raccoon could be.
Barging into the kitchen Steffi shouts, "THE MILK IS BAD, DON'T DRINK IT!" Chandra's spoon stopped right before she ate it, looking back down at her bowl and finally spotting the chunks. "So that's what the smell was.." she dropped the spoon back down into the bowl and rubbed at her eyes. ".. is there anything else to eat then?" Chandra looked up at Steffi as the latter rummaged through the pantry. "Well, you could have dry cereal, but anything I know how to make requires milk, so." She trailed off while grabbing a loaf of bread "I'm having toast, if you want an idea." The Thief watched as Steffi shuffled off to the toaster, popping 4 slices into its waiting maw, not noticing the dial being set to 9. "I think I'll have dry cereal, yeah." Chandra eyed the toaster, noticing the dial's current setting before Steffi, figuring it might be funny if she just lets things happen.
"Oh yeah, are you gonna let your parents know you're safe?" Chandra dumps her old bowl, grabbing another and pouring more cereal in, "Was goin' to today, just woke up though, don't wanna deal with that first thing in the morning." She grabs a handful of cereal, crunching on it while watching Steffi's toast burn behind her back. "They're probably tearing down the walls looking for me." Steffi finally smells the problem and turns around to see the now charred remains of her once edible bread pop out of the toaster. "MEIN VERDAMMTES BROT!" she exclaims, plucking the blackened pucklike pieces out, faux grieving over the hardened slices as Chandra cackles in the background. "Who sets it to max? What dummkopf does that?"
End Movement 1