Marshall Lee Abadeer woke up at 9:03 am on the Saturday in question in the usual fashion. Sunlight streamed through a crack in his blinds, dirty clothes littered the floor, and most importantly, two blue eyes were inches away from his face. 

He opened one eye as his five year old daughter poked him in the face again. "What is it, Jazz?" 
"I'm hungry." She said, satisfied that he was awake. 
"Too bad." He muttered, closing his open eye and turning on his side. "Make yourself some cereal." 

She poked him again, this time on the back of the neck. "We're out of Lucky Charms."
"Eat my cereal." 
"Your cereal tastes bad. There isn't even any chocolate." Deciding that her father was not responding, she hopped off of his double bed and scuttled over to face him. 
"Eat an apple, there's some in the fridge." He mumbled as she poked him in the nose. "Blues, I'm tired." 

"Want cereal." 
He cracked open one eye. "First of all, use your words, Blues. Second, apples are good for you. Third, Daddy is very tired right now. Please don't do this to me." 
Jazz decided to use the magic words. "Olivia wanted to see you." 
"Shit!" Marshall jumped out of bed, suddenly electrified. He turned back to his daughter, hopping around trying to slide his jeans on over his boxers. "Don't say that word." 

"What does it mean?" Jazz inquired. 
"It's a bad word. It's a swear word." Marshall tried to explain while pulling a red flannel shirt on over his head. 
"Oh. Like bitch?" 
"I thought I told you not to... yes, like that word." Marshall sighed. 

Jazz nodded, and Marshall turned to look at her. Her hair, much like his, was a raggedy black mess of bedhead, and she was still in her pajamas, depicting a (not scantily clad) cartoon heroine raising a sword to the sky. 
"Did you brush your teeth?" He demanded. 
Jazz's eyes suddenly got shifty. "Yes..." 

"Go." Marshall ordered, pointing to the bathroom that they shared.

Running a hand through his hair, he made his way to the door of their apartment, opening it to find his landlady on the other side. 
"Good timing." She commented. 
He frowned. "It's not the 28th, Olivia." 

"Oh, I'm not here for rent. If I was, you'd likely have Jazz here trying to let me give you an extension." 
"What can I say? I'm not a millionaire." Marshall pointed out. 
"You always fork over the money when I demand it." Olivia replied coolly, crossing her arms. 
"And I hope you know that Jazz's college education suffers because of it." 

"Cool story. Anyway, there's a new person moving into the building." 
"Ooh, Hedgeford died?" Marshall asked, interested. 
Olivia snorted. "Ha, I wish. No, I need a more stable source of rent money than the broke-musician single dad combination or the racist capitalist moneybag. She's a nice woman." 

"Good with kids?" Marshall asked, looking back into the apartment as he heard the water stop running. 
Olivia nodded once. "Should be. She's got one, after all." 
"What kind?" 

"Christ, Abadeer. There aren't 31 flavors of children." Olivia snorted. 
"No, I meant, is it a good kid, a boy, a girl, a teen, what is it?" 
"Again, not... aw, I'll stop giving you hell. It's a little girl about Jazz's age. Seems nice enough. The woman's a little younger than you, police officer... yeah, I think that's all you need to know. Don't bother her, and don't scare her off!"

Olivia began to walk down the hall, her aged hands looking almost skeletal as they swung beside her. 
"Is she hot?" Marshall called after her. 
Olivia shook her head. "You're not going to mess this up, Marshall! I refuse to let you do so!" 
"What did Olivia want?" Jazz asked, having changed into overalls and a green t-shirt. 

"Seems we're going to have a new neighbor." Marshall explained. 

~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~

"What if I don't have any friends?" Desdemona Mertons asked, kicking her feet up and occasionally hitting the empty passenger seat next to her mother. 
Fionna turned to look at her daughter, who was pouting. "Of course you'll have friends! You're one of the nicest people I know." 
Dessie crossed her arms. "We should have stayed in Vulture Gulch. What if they're too mean here?" 
"They won't be mean." Fionna tried. "Miss Olivia seemed nice. And she said there was  little girl your age in the apartment block, remember?"

The five-year-old looked out the window. "...yeah." 
"You're going to become friends with her, yeah?" 
Dessie smiled a little uncertainly. "I guess... but what if she's mean?" 

"She won't be." Fionna reassured Dessie. 
"Why did we have to leave Aunt Cake, though?" 
"Aunt Cake's life is in Vulture Gulch. My job is here now." 

Dessie pouted, but did not reply. Fionna breathed a sigh of relief, pleased that her daughter had finally stopped arguing about the move.
"But what if--" 
"Dessie, you're going to be fine." Fionna insisted. "I promise." 
"Okay." Dessie said, leaning back. 

"That's it?"
"Yeah. You promised, so I know it's going to be alright." The five year old looked out the window. "There's a park here. I want to go."
Fionna smiled slightly. "What do we say?"
"Please?" 

"I'll try to take you sometime."
"Promise?"
"Yeah, I promise. What's with you and promises today?" 

Dessie shrugged. "If you promise, that means you can't be lying, right? That's what Lyra said before we left."
Fionna smiled. "I guess that's true... and if anything bad happens, you know I'll protect you, right?"
"Yeah. 'Cause you protect good people." Dessie said, satisfied. 

"Right." Fionna replied.
"So that makes you a good person?" 
 "Yeah, I try to be."
"So who protects you?" Dessie asked. 

"Um... no one, I guess..." Fionna replied, laughing a little awkwardly.
Dessie reached towards her mother's shoulder, yet the seat belt held her firmly in place. "I'll protect you, Mommy. I'll help you find your handsome prince just like in all the stories."
Fionna wasn't sure whether to stifle laughter or a grimace. "Thanks, sweetie."  

*Author's Note* 

I have absolutely no idea what's up with the cover. But dang it, Marshall's face was one of the highlights.