That first week, Shilo kept her promise. She bathed, took care of her stitches, and even managed to eat some food found the the back of a kitchen cupboard. The Wallace house was not well stocked with anything anyone normal would ever eat and the water filter was broken, meaning it was difficult to cook healthy. It was risk to drink unfiltered water in the city, because of all the contamination of death and chemicals, and a new filter was well beyond what was affordable. Graverobber, convinced he was not about to spend all of his hard earned dealer money on a stupid little bit of metal with some sponge inside, found himself shoving a small package onto the dining room table for Shilo to notice and take care of. After all, if he lived there he would be drinking the water, too.

Graverobber hadn't been able to bring her outside, her adamant refusal meaning her own eventual starvation: there was only so much food he could steal off the streets and from the back alley stores that happened to come across a stolen crate or two of produce. Walking into a regular store would mean his certain arrest; it was hard enough on him to duck in and out of where he already went to feed himself. Bringing back enough food for two wouldn't work for an extended period of time. Just at the end of the first week of staying at the Wallace house, he had been followed three times, narrowly shaking off the Gen-Cops.

It wasn't normal for Graverobber to be so cautious. Living on the edge was all he knew, all he wanted. Now, having to watch his back not just for his own wellbeing but that of Shilo's, Graverobber was having a difficult time with it. He wasn't a mother, damn it! He could take care of a kid, especially a messed up little girl coming off medication and the loss of the little family she had, not to mention an attacker on the loose. There was plenty of news to be heard out on the streets, but all Graverobber's questions had gone unanswered. The only way to truly find something out was to ask directly, but what if he led himself into a trap? What if he gave his relationship with Shilo away? He had been asked once or twice about the Repo Man's daughter, denying having seen her more than in passing right before the opera incident, but Graverobber knew he couldn't keep poking his nose in the same place: he would get her caught, like she had warned him just a few weeks ago.

Maybe he felt responsible because he also felt guilty. Graverobber's plans seemed to unravel every time he saw the girl, just knowing she wouldn't be up to the task he was going to eventually lay before her. He should just give up and find a different way, another path. Why did he want to mess around with the broken remains of an already unhappy household?

Shilo wouldn't talk with him very much while he was at the house unless he prompted her to speak. She wasn't shy, not as much to make her so silent, but it was as though she didn't know what to say. The first day or two of Graverobber's stay at the house had been tense. She startled when he would appear in a room, ask him ridiculous questions he didn't know how to answer, and always seemed to be picking at the scabs at her wrists. He had to stop himself from becoming a replacement Nathan, wanting to lock the door to Shilo's room to keep her safe while he was away. There was always a worry that he wouldn't be back in time, that she would go missing, and he would really be left without a plan. Even with his doubts about the girl, he still couldn't help but feel reliant on her life.

..0.0.0

“Where are you going?”

Shilo sat on her bed, open book on her lap, focused entirely on Graverobber's movements. He had been sitting in her room at the same seat he had been in when Shilo had woken up from her attack, napping, aware of her looking at him every time he cracked his eyes. She had asked him why he did that, waking up every once in awhile to take a look around him. He had fought a sarcastic answer and just mumbled something about living on the streets. But now, as he stood up and checked his pockets to account for all his equipment, Shilo started to panic.

“Out to work,” he answered offhandedly, “I always go out to work in the evenings, Shilo.”

She was well aware of the mocking tone, but continued.

“Why do you have to sell that horrid stuff?”

“If I remember right, that horrid stuff got you through your first few days after nearly having your hands cut off.”

Shilo fell quiet again, not before giving him an unhappy glare. He couldn't help but feel a little bad when she went silent, but was still as annoyed as she ruffled her eyebrows at him as he was with her while she asked her stupid questions.

“Kid, they're addicted. If I don't go to them, they're going to go to someone else. They go to someone else, I don't get paid. I don't get money, I can't eat. Or you, for that matter. If you have a problem with the way I put groceries in the kitchen, then go buy them yourself.”

“I don't go outside,” she snarked, face turned from his. “It's dangerous.”

“Yeah, well, you're right. And you need to really shut up and think before judging me, got it? You don't know anything about the streets.”

“I was out there with you.”

“Once! And that was nearly a disaster!”

“It was Amber's fault.”

The tension in the room doubled, settling over everything like an invisible toxic fog. Shilo never knew how Graverobber had gotten involved, how he had receieved Miss. Sweet's business, or what his relationship with the Largos truly was. Then why was he tense, ready to run? She didn't know. If she knew, he wouldn't doubt she would kill him.

Without a word, Graverobber left the room, heavy boots pounding on the floor and continuing down the hallway, door slamming behind him. He called that he would be back in a few hours, but wasn't sure she could hear him.

He didn't think she knew that he could hear her cry every time he left.

“Maybe it should stay that way,” he muttered as he sneaked out of the Wallace household and resumed his regular lifestyle, fighting down the gnats of guilt fluttering around his stomach as his first customer of the evening turned the corner.

..0.0.0

“So you're looking to apply for a position?”

“Yes, sir.”

He felt uncomfortable in his suit, stealing it off the body of a dead man just earlier in the week, worried about the smell. It wouldn't help to smell like death at his Gene-Co interview, especially not in front of Rotti Largo himself, but didn't Repo Men smell like their victims? Maybe he should mention he wouldn't have to get used to the less than pleasant aspects of the life of a repossession agent because he was already used to it? But that would bring up questions about what he was hoping to leave behind, and so the man who would later be known as the Graverobber sat silent in his chair.

..0.0.0

Every evening, she asked him if he wouldn't like to sleep in a bed.

Every evening, he said no.

Shilo had been convinced her Zydrate dealing friend (or was he fiend?) was staying in her father's bedroom, assuming he would have little care in the way of sleeping in the room of a dead legend and former head of household. The thought of him touching her father's things had made Shilo dizzy and upset, so she hadn't entertained the notion since Graverobber's second night in the house. But every once in awhile she noticed a warm spot under her bare feet on the carpet in the small sitting room, the musty corner next to the foyer, on her way to the kitchen. He didn't even sleep on the couch, just on the floor, and she had been slightly shocked.

“Look, kid,” he had answered, “I sleep in trash bins, alleys littered with needles and poisons, and I don't even get to sleep half the night away. Hell, it would probably be best if I did sleep on the floor. My bones don't feel right after sleeping in a bed.”

She had remembered him curled up around her feet that first night in her bedroom, just resting beside her, and had blushed a most furious shade of red. Graverobber had also remembered and was far from blushing. In fact, he had refused to talk the rest of the morning and avoided her until noticing she hadn't eaten that afternoon.

“Eat something.”

“Sleep on the couch.”

“No.”

“Fine.”

Only after he had her recall she was breaking her part of the contract of him staying in the house did she quickly eat something. Graverobber was her only protection and, although she wanted answers, Shilo wasn't about to permanently drive him away. She only felt safe when he was there. He had told her not to trust him, and Shilo didn't want to do a thing to make Graverobber consider leaving her, but she couldn't keep quiet forever. Far from wanting to do anything but argue, she now couldn't help but to ask questions whenever she thought of one.

He was always particularly vicious when she mentioned one of the Largos.

“Don't you have any respect for your father?” he had snapped. “The Largos don't care about you anymore! They never cared for you in the first place! Rotti had his own goal and didn't mind what happened as long as his goal was reached. The bastard died, but only after taking your family with him.”

Shilo had sobbed, tears choking and blinding her as she ran upstairs and sat on the floor by her bed while trying to catch a gasp of air. She had probably sounded like a wild animal, panicking and howling the way she had. But, after she had calmed herself and pushed all thoughts of the Largos, her father, or what had just happened the past hour out of her head, Shilo had not been able to help mentioning the Largos in her questions. Graverobber had tried to assure her that no one was after her, that Gene-Co was in the hands of who wanted it, and there was no need to drag the richest family in the world into Shilo's life ever again.

But she hadn't believed him.

She would go outside soon, go get food, find out how to pay bills. Graverobber would leave her, she was sure of it, either because she finally asked the wrong question, he was killed, or just simply because he wanted to move on. He had already let her know she wasn't important in his life, just someone interesting with a house to sleep in during the day and a place to come back to after the night was over. Shilo found herself hoping she would learn to not trust him, to backpedal and save herself from becoming so completely engrossed in having him protect her. But, late at night when the windows rattled and the curtains shifted and all the world seemed to press in around her with only malice to be had, Shilo knew she had to have someone.

And Graverobber was the only someone she had.