In Creed’s room, a disc of pink light began to radiate above the brute’s bed. His pink skinned daughter stuck her head through the television sized portal that materialized itself on the ceiling and whispered.
“…Papa? It’s almost noon… ‘Wakey, wakey’…”
Clarice didn’t seem to care that Creed was naked. However, once she noticed her father was acting like a house cat, pretending to be asleep but merely lying still with his eyes closed, she huffed out of annoyance. She could always read his tell when he did it; anytime she spoke to her father like this, the tip of his nose twitched. Just as a cat’s tail would…
“I was going to go to this concert with a friend, but she got sick and can’t go! She gave me her ticket; they’re exclusive, front row seats with a V.I.P. backstage pass and everything! I have no idea how she could get these, but she’s not able to go. So I was wondering…if…. I mean, if you even like this kind of music, if…you wanted to come… with me?”
Again, his nose twitched.
“Papa? The Hunt is in three days—“
“Ya’ gonna tag along this time?” grumbled the blonde.
“No!” she gasped suddenly. “That…That is your thing; I know you’ve been training me so that nothing bad happens to me again, and maybe one day I’ll be ready to handle it, but right now, I…. I just thought we could do something together that didn’t involve… you know…”
Creed’s nose twitched.
Blink decided to sweeten the deal, literally. “I’ll make more of those lemon bars you like so much…”
The feral turned his face into his pillow and purred. She knew exactly what that meant.
“Great! It starts at 9. But…you are gonna need to wear something that doesn’t make you look like you want to start a fight with everybody, so…”
“Yeah, cause that’s what makes me so mean and scary lookin’. Clothes…” he snorted.
“I picked out something really nice for you; it’s hanging in your closet in a garment bag. Oh, and your closet has clothes in it now. You’re welcome.”
Creed smirked, remembering that both of them came to the mansion with nothing but blood splatter and bruises over their skin. “…where’d ya’ get the money for that?”
Her eyes widened. “Uh, err….okayI’llseeyoulatertonightloveyou BYE!” she rambled as she quickly closed the portal behind her and left her father alone.
“…Heh… That’s my little girl.”
Another five minutes passed before Creed rolled out of bed and marched to the closet. He pulled his hay colored hair out of his face and into a pony tail; he dressed himself in a black tank top, rust colored knee-length shorts and black flip flops.
The beach-bum looking bruiser headed into the bathroom and finished his morning routine. Once he was done, he walked out with Thor’s soaps and shampoos in his hand and exited his dorm. A quick sniff of the air, and he followed the Asgardian’s scent. No surprise, the trail took him back to Thor’s door.
“Anybody home?” Creed asked rhetorically as he knocked and grinned. “I gotta huge tube here for ya’ that I know ya’ wanna get ‘yer hands on…”