A restful night's sleep was forgone on Paloma. She flailed in the sheets all through the night as though she was fighting a losing battle against a wicked dragon. By the time morning came, Paloma found herself appeasing the vicious bags under her eyes using nothing more than concealer and foundation—both of which got the job done in record time.

She figured, at the very least, she'd make an attempt at looking her best considering the years between twenty-five and twenty-eight hadn't been as kind to her as she'd hoped. And, if Quinn was anything like she remembered her, she'd pick up on it a mile away.

"Ms. Sullivan?"

The voice was just familiar enough to break Paloma from her fleeting trance. Affable smile on full broadcast, Paloma initiated a firm handshake—a gesture the social worker accepted with immediacy.

"Paloma." She nodded towards him. "Jonathan, right?"

"Yes, I'm the one you spoke with on the phone last night. Sorry about the late call by the way."

Paloma shook her head, promptly dismissing the apology. "It's never too late to call when it's about Quinn."

"Speaking of which..." With the wave of his hand, he summoned Paloma to a black sedan, occasionally peaking over his shoulder as he spoke. "I picked your sister up from the foster home nearby and brought her on over."

It took no more than the gentle tap of his knuckles for a girl that vaguely resembled Paloma to emerge. Her hair had gotten longer, Paloma instantly decided. It adorned her shoulders like the vines of an aging tree and each strand was redder than the last.

A round face stood amongst it all. Her cheeks weren't quite as plump as Paloma remembered them thanks to puberty being underway but she'd expected them to sustain their chubby state until the transformation was all said and done. Quinn's glasses were black and stark against her fair skin. The frames were as thick as the lenses were wide. Somehow, they just suited her.

An eternity seemed to pass before Paloma felt an urgent pull to break the silence. "Hey."

Quinn exchanged a similar greeting, her smile far tenser than the brunette's. It went without saying that they were all appreciative of the quiet tune the wind whistled as it offered more of a response than either of them could summon. Thankfully, Johnathan took the reins from there.

"So, Paloma, I know last night you mentioned wanting to take a look around your uncle's house. Is that something you're still interested in?"

The woman's eyes snapped to Jonathan's once she finally managed to cease her long-term gaze at her sister. "Yeah, I just wanted to peep in and see the conditions of the home."

"Okay, that's fine. But..." he dragged, peering at the girl. "Since you're underage and we're not really supposed to be here, I'm afraid you're going to have to wait outside. It's pretty dangerous in there, as I'm sure you're aware."

"That's fine. Perfect, actually. I'll just wait in here." A considerate smile ensued and before they knew it, Quinn returned to her post, keeping the Sedan company.

"I've worked with a lot of children like her." Johnathan approached the home, Paloma close behind. "She seems like a nice kid, just a little shy." Chuckling, he welcomed the brunette to take a brave step inside.

Paloma could hardly step through the door before a foul smell embedded itself into her nostrils. Her hand couldn't shield her sniffer fast enough. Luckily, she met success when suppressing the fierce gag that threatened to arise in spite of the odors that seemed to be trash, urine, and what she could only describe as death.

"Sorry." The man winced, shielding his mouth with the sleeve of his suit. "I should've warned you about the smell; it's pretty terrible."

"Yeah." Paloma tossed a glance his way, all the while snickering. "A warning would've been nice. He was a hoarder? God, how could anyone live like this? Aside from the smell, it's like a damn maze in here. You can't get through."

They each maneuvered through the trash that practically pulled at their feet, probing Paloma and Johnathan to join them. They couldn't draw their gazes from the dirt-stained walls, nor the urine-soaked floors.

"Hence the reason this place was deemed 'unlivable'."

Paloma's smile was bitter. "I can't believe she was living like this. I can't believe Perry let her live in his own shit storm. He had no regard for her at all. He didn't want me to have her but he pulls this shit?"

"I was going to ask about that; about why you didn't have custody of Quinn originally. I read up on her case and after your parents, Perry was given custody of her even though you were of age. Why is that? If you don't mind me asking."

Paloma exhaled, not fighting the overabundance of memories that flooded her thoughts. Eventually, she broke through the quiet, granting the man some insight on the things that she pondered whenever her life became too quiet.

"Towards the end, I didn't get on with my parents much at all. They didn't really accept me or my lifestyle. To put it simply, they were right-wing, God-fearing people, that's for sure. But, most importantly, they deemed their oldest daughter showing an interest in women 'the end of the world'. To them, nothing else seemed to matter."

Johnathan's eyebrows spiked and Paloma chuckled.

"Anyway, after my parents' accident, I found out that their final wishes consisted of taking my only sibling away from me and putting her in the hands of an even less tolerant asshole who also, as I'm just now discovering, doubles as a hoarder."

The brunette gritted her teeth after the words fell from her lips in rapid secession. Her eyes met Jonathan's but only for a moment once his pity-filled gaze grew to be too much.

Jonathan's nod was out of understanding, but it somehow managed to get under Paloma's skin. Her sigh was out of nothing more than relief once he pointed towards the front door that was now much further away. "We should head back. I'm sure your sister's waiting."

Paloma didn't have to be told twice. With repugnance on their faces, they meandered their way through the hoard in complete silence.

A friendly smile settled on Paloma's lips as she took a glimpse in Quinn's direction. She turned her key in the ignition, allowing the roar of the engine to chase away the stillness that lingered in the air.

After returning the strained expression, Quinn busied herself by prying a worn-out book from her bag's clutches. However, Paloma must've taken that as an invitation to converse because it was then that her gaze flickered back over to the girl.

"Quinn." The name felt foreign yet smooth on Paloma's tongue; like a mother language she'd abandoned until now. "How are you?"

Tensing her jaw, the redhead glossed her fingers over the paperback's delicate pages. As far back as she could remember, Paloma could strike her nerves like no other; now was no exception. Only she could make something sound so benign and docile, even when the question was as loaded as that one.

"No one calls me that anymore." A moment later, she relaxed her tight muscles and shrugged her shoulders. "And I've been okay, I guess."

Paloma ignored the snarkiness in her sister's response, opting to push the conversation forward, instead. "What do you mean? Absolutely no one calls you 'Quinn' anymore?" she teased.

"Nope. Uncle Perry always said it was a childish name and that my first name is more...'professional'."

Paloma narrowed her eyes, a scoff slipping past her lips in the process. "You're just a kid. You don't need to be 'professional'. Besides, who gives a shit what Perry thinks? Mom and dad always called you that...and so did I."

"Well, mom and dad weren't exactly in my life anymore. And neither were you."

At this, Paloma looked away from the road, momentarily settling her gaze on the girl.

"Uncle Perry was the one that took care of me," muttered Quinn. "It's not like I had much of a choice."

"Well, I wouldn't really call what he did 'taking care' of you. I mean, did you see the house I did? Wasn't exactly an ideal place to raise a kid."

"Did I see it? Of course, I did. I-I lived it. And you're right, it wasn't necessarily ideal but—" Quinn's chuckle was humorless and bitter. Still, the last thing she wanted was to fight with a woman she hardly even knew. But, Paloma had other plans.

"Are you seriously protecting him?"

"I'm not 'protecting' him. I'm merely pointing out that you hardly knew him. Besides, you went into the house for all of, what, three seconds?"

Paloma's expression soured. "That's because I didn't need any longer. I saw more than enough."

"My point is, you act like you know everything when the reality is you don't know shit."

That was humbling but Paloma couldn't stifle the laugh that barreled out of her belly even if she wanted to.

"Okay." Paloma dealt a single nod. "Apparently you're almost as good at cursing as I am. Short and sweet but packs a punch. Never thought I'd see the day. Maybe I just hoped I wouldn't but, not gonna lie, I applaud you for that."

Despite her best efforts, Quinn grinned, hiding it shortly after using the palm of her hand.

"Look, I get it." Shrugging nonchalantly, Paloma relented. "I don't know shit. These days, I couldn't agree more. But maybe hold off on the insults until I've had caffeine? I'd like to have a fighting chance."

Quinn furrow her brow at the lighthearted demeanor that was about Paloma. It was almost unsettling. The teenager slouched down in her seat, relinquishing her gaze to the cars they surpassed on the road.

"And I know you didn't have much of a choice when you were living with him but you're going to be living with me now. It isn't gonna be the way it was there. With me, you'll always have a choice. But, one thing still stands." Paloma surrendered Quinn her attention. "I don't give a shit what Perry said. You'll always be 'Quinn' to me."

Triumphantly, Paloma smirked upon seeing the girl whose eyes had finally softened.

"Welcome to our humble abode." Quinn took the bait, following Paloma inside of the apartment once the woman propped the door open. "Let me show you around; though I have to be honest, there's not much to show."

"This is the bathroom; it's all yours when I'm not in here and just FYI, if I'm in there for hours, I'm not dead, I'm just getting ready." Paloma let out yet another small chuckle, Quinn meeting the laugh with a simple courtesy smile. "But, I'm going to work on that now that you're here. You saw the living room when we first got in and this right here..."

The redhead peeped inside of the bedroom. A seashell purple stained the smooth walls; in contrast, a large window hovered above a white vanity set, letting in the morning sunshine. A kingsized bed sat in the midst of it all, serving as the centerpiece. Quinn smiled, impressed at the newfound neatness that seemed to be about the woman.

"...is my room," Paloma finished. "So, yeah, that's about it. It's not much but, I don't know, I like it and—"

Not a moment later, Paloma's words crawled up and died in her throat, prompting Quinn to raise an eyebrow. The brunette ran her fingers through her dark hair, a pink tint creeping its way onto her cheeks.

Her laugh was abrupt and void of any actual humor. "Oh, my God, I'm an actual idiot." Embarrassment washed over her like rainfall in the Tropics as she led them back into the kitchen. "I didn't even think everything through. I don't have a guest room, which means I don't even have a bedroom for you."

Quinn shrugged. "No problem. Couch is as good a place as any."

Paloma shook her head defiantly. "Not happening. You were living in bad enough conditions at Perry's; it's not going to be the same here. I won't let it."

Grimacing, Quinn said, "You don't have anything to prove."

"Yes, I do." Paloma scoffed as if it was so obvious. "You can have the bedroom; I'll take the couch."

"Come on, Plum, it's your apartment. There's no way I'm gonna put you out of your own bedroom."

That prompted an ever-growing simper out of Paloma. She'd thought the nickname was long lost in the wind of time, but it seemed that 'Plum' never escaped Quinn's vocabulary. It was what the girl always called her when she was just old enough to speak and couldn't for the life of her say Paloma's name correctly. It took no time at all for the nickname to stick.

Paloma shook her head as if to stow her nostalgia, then smiled warmly. "Okay, let's compromise. Why don't we just share the bedroom?"

Quinn knitted her eyebrows together in quandary. "There's only one bed."

"True." In an instant, Paloma's eyes lit up like a match. "But, we could share it. It'd almost be like before—when we were both kids."

The redhead met this with silence, opting to scratch away at a nonexistent itch on the back of her neck, instead. Returning to a time that even remotely resembled when they were kids seemed about as possible as getting to the moon on foot; not that Quinn even wanted to fathom such a thing.

Paloma held her hands up in surrender and snorted a laugh. "Jesus, Quinn, you don't have to be so nervous. It's me. Besides, it'll just be until I find a bigger apartment for the two of us. I swear."

Quinn always found that Paloma was good at backing her into a corner. She'd hoped with age and experience on both ends that that'd no longer be the case but she was sadly mistaken. A compliant nod embellished by yet another painfully courteous smile was all she could muster, which seemed to be more than enough for Paloma.