"Not really. All I've found out is that no one named 'Tobias Beecher', or 'Holly Beecher', exists here." Which meant his daughter was left out of it. He wasn't sure how he felt about that, but Chris deserved to know the facts.
Tugging on a shirt, he sat on the bed to wrestle with his borrowed jeans. "Worst case scenario, I can try to get a job or something, make 'em do the damn background check for me," There you go- levity. At least he was trying to have a good attitude about all this shit.
Jeans properly fastened, he stood suddenly, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "Let's just fucking deal with what I'm not first, okay?" His tone was a little on edge, one hand carding through his hair uneasily as he looked around for a pair of shoes, having 'donated' the pair he'd worn there, to Pongo's chew-toy collection.