"So here's the deal," Izou's voice says over the phone. You've got it on speaker and are holding it up for Thatch while he drives back to the apartment. "Doll's mom came into your apartment Friday night, with two people I haven't seen before. They set up cameras, one in each of your bedrooms, and two in the common areas."

Thatch had gotten Marco's texts when he got to the hotel room, but didn't say anything to you about it for a couple reasons. It was on him to keep you safe in the first place, and until Izou and Marco had done all their digging, there wasn't much that could be done anyway. They didn't know yet if the two thugs Mellanny had with her were working off the books or not.

"They... they'll be able to see us?" You question, unable to keep the shiver out of your voice. Even with all the control your parents exerted over you, they hadn't ever set up cameras in your room.

"They can, but their technique and the tech they used is pretty shoddy." Izou says, trying to sound reassuring. "I'm going to show your cleaning people where they are, and they can pretend to find them when they come through on Monday.

"Or you can find them when you get home, but I have a suggestion for you both."

Thatch groans. "Your plans work, but they always mean I have to act."

"You acted well enough when we cleared out her room." Izou points out, already knowing what Thatch is going to say.

"That wasn't acting, I was actually furious." Thatch grumbles.

"Well, then that's what you hold onto for this." Izou says. "My suggestion is that you two pretend to have had a fight in the car on your way back, or you just had a bad date all around. Act cold toward each other. Put on a show for the cameras that there's trouble in paradise.

"You don't have to be specific, just be stiff and awkward around one another until you go to bed." He continues to explain. "Doll, pretend you're talking to your parents, and Thatch can pretend... hm... Pretend that she told you it's weird I wear kimonos."

Thatch flinches, his brows furrowing. "Ugh."

"I would never," you pout, and Izou laughs.

"No, but he's not going to be thinking about you, Miss. he can picture the person who did actually say that." Izou clarifies. "I doubt Thatch could bring himself to think a bad thought about you."

You look up at Thatch, who gives you a smile before turning back to the road.

"Look, the cameras are the issue, the sound bugs are poorly placed, so you're not trying to give snaildance award level performances. Just, let the discomfort of the situation itself make you uncomfortable." Izou offers. "I'm sorry to suggest it, especially on the heels of your first date, but I think it's the best chance we have. Just removing the bugs wouldn't have the same impact."

"We - we can do it." You say with as much confidence as you can muster. The idea of being mean to Thatch already had your heart aching, but if it meant a better way to keep him safe you'd do it. "Right?"

Thatch grimaces, and then sighs. "We can. I already don't like it, but we can do it."

"Hang in there Thatchie-boy." Izou teases. "Both of you. It'll be interesting to see how your parents react to something they shouldn't know."

"Oh, while we're on the subject." Izou clears his throat. "Thatch, they left pictures in your safe, and put something under your pillow Miss Kakusho. We couldn't make out what it was, but I didn't want it to be a big surprise to either of you."

Izou considered telling you about the theft for a split second, but if he brought it up now, Thatch might actually wreck the car. There wasn't anything you could do about it, and the only thing it was going to do was make you even more uncomfortable.

"It's easy enough for me to just not open my safe for the night," Thatch admits, glancing over at you.

"I... I can avoid my pillow." You admit, shrinking in on yourself.

"You don't have to." Thatch says, hands tightening on the wheel.

"No, um, it will actually help... sell the act." You murmur, trying not to look at Thatch or the phone, as though Izou could see you too. "I used to sleep on the floor when I messed something up."

Your quiet for a moment, and you can feel the weight of questions that aren't being asked. When you first met Thatch and his family, you assumed they would see you as an extension of your parents. It hadn't been that long, but you already knew better.

This heavy feeling was concern for you, and likely anger toward your parents.

Two weeks and it was already feeling like life with your parents was years ago, but that didn't make it easier to talk about. It was fear that compels you to say this much. Not fear that Thatch or Izou will be angry with you, but fear that if you don't do your best, you'll lose this precious feeling.

"No matter what else, my parents will think things are bad if I'm doing that." You say quietly.

"Well, if you can manage it, Thatch will just have to pamper you tomorrow." Izou offers up.

"Of course." Thatch asserts, giving you a quick smile. "I'm going to call and arrange things with the bakery before we get back to the apartment, make sure they know I won't be in. Thanks for reaching out to the cleaning crew for me, let them know I'll get them a dozen donuts if they can pretend I make 'em nervous."

"You think you can handle that?" Izou says, his tone teasing. "You made that kid cry when you sneezed at the festival last year and it took you two days to stop cr-."

"I'm sure!" Thatch blurts out hastily. "I'm sure, jeez."

Izou is laughing when he hangs up the phone, and you feel better despite the weight of the earlier conversation.

The rest of the ride home, you and Thatch talk about your plan for when you get home. You agree to just not say much of anything and retreat to your separate rooms. The hard part is going to be when you have dinner together, because you'll have to eat in silence.

Or so you thought.

The hardest part was retreating to your bedroom after Thatch muttered that he just needed some space. It was hard to say how well your parents could hear what was being said, but his words sounded terse because he didn't even want to say them. It helped the farce, but you felt bad for him.

Thatch didn't have practice in duplicity like you did. Izou's suggestions had been helpful, but it was still difficult to view Thatch the way you did your father. Still, you gave him a small nod, and then retreated to your room.

Your parents-only phone was buzzing so incessantly you wondered if Thatch could hear it.

There were a flood of texts from your parents. Were you home? Were you okay? How did the date go?

You couldn't help the way your eyes widened when they asked why he was mad. You look around the room, catching a brief glimpse of the camera in your room and being careful not to look directly at it.

You: I'm home. The date was fine.

A pause for effect. You wait to send the next question until you see the signs of them starting to text again. You can't be too quick, the timing has to be when they're distracted, so they don't over think it.

You: How do you know he's mad at me?

If there was one thing you were fairly skilled at, it was feigning ignorance. You could pretend your parents loved you when there were other people around, and you could pretend you were stupid when they asked things like this. You might not be as smart as they wanted you to be, but your head wasn't full of cobwebs. Despite what your mother thought.

Ignorance was just an effective means to avoid severe punishment.

Parents: We put up some cameras while you were out, we're so worried about you.

You nearly laugh, turning the shudder into a sob and wiping away tears that weren't there. Your stomach knots at the fact that, a mere two weeks ago, you would've held onto that lie desperately. Wanting nothing more than for your parents to show you a shred of concern.

You: I'm okay. He didn't hit me. He's just disappointed.

Disappointed in your parents, but the half-truth was useful.

Sitting down next to your bed, you lean back against the nightstand. You don't want to get too close to your pillow, and you're trying to appear as dejected as possible.

Parents: Alright. Let us know whenever you want to come back home.

Not for all the money in the Grandline.

Parents: The law doesn't matter, we'll come get you.

It almost sounds like they actually care, but at this point you're pretty sure they want leverage against the Edward family. If you and Thatch aren't married within a certain time span, or if a Rematch isn't submitted, there can be problems for everyone. The first rematch got the NWO involved, and if a second one was requested it would be a very detailed and exhaustive investigation.

Thatch and his family had more to lose. Your parents already had effectively nothing, but the Edward family was prominent and wealthy. The news would eat them alive if your parents could prove you were being taken advantage of.

Parents: Don't tell him about the keycard.

You: I won't, I promise.

Of course you promise, you already told him what happened. It's not like you were going to tell him something he already knew a second time.

You send a couple more texts, dodging the questions of your parents. They wanted to know the details of your date, and you just kept saying it was fine. The Opera was sad, but nice. The hotel room had two beds and Thatch had been proper. Managing to wiggle out of anything else, you tuck the phone away into a drawer and then pull your knees up to your chin and stay still next to the bed.

You'd spent hours like this before, so it wasn't difficult. It was a little weird to do with an audience, knowing that your parents could see you, whether or not they were actively watching.

Dozing off a bit out of boredom, you aren't sure how much time passes before there's a knock at the door and Thatch is letting you know that dinner's ready. Standing up, you sort out your outfit, smoothing the wrinkles and making sure everything is setting the way its supposed to. A doll must be presentable, and you always put in extra effort when you had screwed up.

Your parents might not know all of the ways Thatch expressed his emotions, but they knew yours well enough you didn't want to take any chances.

Dinner was delicious, and you wished you could tell Thatch exactly what you thought, but you kept your praise to a few murmured words and quiet apologies. Thatch's frustrations were easy to misinterpret as anger if you didn't know him, because he was just so big and loud by default. You'd be able to say what you wanted once the cameras were gone, so you just did your best to help lead him through this event.

Thatch did so much for you, this was something you were good at, so the least you could do was help him.

It was difficult though. You wanted to help Thatch with the dishes, or at least do them yourself. You wanted to stand beside him and listen to him talk about his family after he tells you that you're too injured to be worried about dishes.

You want to hear him humming to the music he plays while he dries things off and puts them away. After how well the date went, you want to ask him to dance. He moves so well when he's not even focused on dancing as the primary task, you imagine he's really good at it.

Even if he isn't, you want to dance with Thatch.

You offer to do the dishes and he turns you down. He wants to say you're injured, you can hear it on the edges of his words, but instead he just grumbles something under his breath. It's awkward, and oddly perfect for what you need, but you leave it be, and excuse yourself, going back to your room.

Your parents don't text you again, and there's no music coming down the hall, just the occasional soft clink of plates while Thatch does the dishes. You stay curled against your nightstand until the food from dinner settles a little better, and then you venture out to grab a shower and get cleaned up before bed.

Putting on your pajamas, you lay the towel down on the floor by your bed, and put your housecoat over you as a blanket. Normally, you'd pull your pillow down at least, but it's the one thing you don't want to touch or move right now. You can tuck your arm and use it as a pillow, it won't be ideal, but it won't be awful.

At least the room is warm and the rug under your bed is so thick you probably don't need the towel. After a few moments you realize you don't need the towel beneath you, and fold it into a little makeshift pillow.

You didn't sleep great, but you slept enough to be awake the next morning. Not as early as you were usually up, but you remembered getting up and stretching a few times last night to relieve some of the ache of sleeping on the floor. So it wasn't like you slept straight through the night anyway.

You can hear sounds out in the hall, and glancing at the clock you realize that the cleaning people must be here. Thatch says they usually come every Monday, but he had put them on hold when he got his matchbook because he didn't know what was going to happen, and wanted you to be able to adjust. Arriving early so that they could chat with him for a moment before he left for work. Though, today, he was already planning on not going in, even though he was likely dressed and ready for work.

You can hear voices being raised, and get to your feet as you hear Thatch trying to stomp down the hall toward your door. You brace, knowing he's going to throw the door open, and while you need to act scared, you don't really want to. He's got the hardest job at the moment.

"Doll!" He yells before throwing the door open. It bangs against the wall and you jump involuntarily, looking over at Thatch. He has one of the camera bugs in his hand. "What the hell is this?" He demands, trying to sound angry. He's barely even loud, if his father's booming baritone was any indication as to how loud he could get.

Thatch takes in the scene in a second, noticing the towel and housecoat on the floor, and your untouched bed. He knew you said you could sleep on the floor, but for some reason he thought that would include a sleeping bag at the least.

"What in the..." Looking around he sees the camera on the wall quickly, snatching it from the mount. He's angrier now than he was a moment ago, but it's not even remotely directed at you. "What the hell is this?!" You don't know if he does it on purpose, but the camera is pointing at you before he crushes the small device in his hands.

When he bellows down the hall it is very reminiscent of his father's volume, you're sure anyone listening on the other floors of the apartment tower can hear him.

"I WANT THIS PLACE SWEPT IMMEDIATELY!"