Heavy eyes sagged open as Jazz released a long sigh followed by a loud slurp of her 'Get Screamin' coffee thermos, made so generously strong, its fumes reeked pungeant of burnt coffee grounds. Every fiber of her being had exhausted itself again.

Absolutely strained to the brink the last six.. seven... wait.. no.. eight days? Oh God, she couldn't even track anymore. Just... what day was it? Hazy green eyes finally forced themselves to focus, and she blinked in rapid succession. Then they flicked skyward, searching for a tell. A clue. Some manner of reminder that would inform her. Then her fronds shot up, as if the caffeine in her system had just now decided to assert itself and shotgun her heart into overdrive.

"Right!", she yelled to no one in particular, then covered her mouth with one hand. Eyes scanning the bewildered faces of the strangers around her, she flushed a deep red that threatened to match her messenger bag. Jazz slunk her head down, like a puppy getting scolded. Dangit, had her brain filter broken? No, it was just a few moments spent zoning out. Completely understandable.

It wasn't her fault that everything was an absolute mess these last... uh.. 'whatever-days.' Sure, it was perfectly reasonable, but completely unavoidable. At least from her perspective, she hadn't done anything wrong. It was just a mixture of poor timing and Randall's inability to answer his home phone or his door! No matter how many times she went. This was getting ludicrous. Ten times already this week! Unbelievable. Today, though, she was being proactive and stopping by the apartment one last time before Rex's...

"Oh shoot!" She scrambled around her bag for a moment, only to produce a ragged piece of folded yellow paper.

"There!" she sighed, a bit relieved. Even with the caffeine burning through her veins, she still had a hard time keeping up appearances everywhere all at once. If it wasn't one thing, it was another. School, work, parenting, and playing catch-up for the one hobby she tried but never could quite have the time for. And besides, this was her last semester. She would do it and make it out alive. And then maybe, possibly, the chance would come. That glimmering light of serenity. A reward so bright and so glorious that she could make up the missed sleep and exhaustion tenfold. And then she could finally afford to take Rex on that vacation and properly pay back Randall for all those times she'd intruded into his life and asked him for so many little favors. She might've paid the expenses a few times over by now if not for the small, insignificant details: Money, financial aid, living expenses, food, medication, school debts, electricity, bills, etc. Oh, the bills... Never-ending.

"Move!"

Jazz snapped up with a start, blinking twice before stepping forward automatically, falling into step with the rest of the crowd as they began to cross the street, sign flashing green at the crosswalk. Lacking the capacity for full sentences still, her mind nearly shuttled out a "Sorry!" but instead decided for a more passive-aggressive "whatever." as she moved onward. Too much on her mind, too little time to think.

Now then, what was the schedule again?

Locking down some prime details in her head, Jazz took another sip of her thermos and pushed onward through the street. Crossing her fingers that she wouldn't catch another dose of the 'stares', and if so, that it wouldn't make her look like a complete idiot a second time. There had been enough embarrassment for her already, and she really didn't feel up for more.

"Randall, Rex, food, home." she repeated to herself several times. "Got it."

The crowds of the inner city eventually thinned down to a reasonable mass of people as she was left with a broadside walk of the quaint little neighborhood just outside the area Randall called home. The brick architecture was lined elegantly with flowers and littered with well trimmed, neatly arranged, tiny trees and bushes. The airy springtime weather put a comforting lift in Jazz's heart, and her green eyes caught sight of a little boutique nearby. It was a homey little place. Neatly furnished with decor and windowpanes that matched a kind of Victorian flare, right up her alley. A good distraction. But for another time.

Sooner or later, the walk finally led Jazz into familiar territory. Randall's home turf, at least for the past few years. An apartment building just a little bit taller than most others and very recently featured a coat of red paint. It was a moderately comfortable place, nothing fantastic, but nothing to sneeze at either. Though it was a varitable mansion in comparison to the shoe-box homes from their childhood and where she lived, or the 'hellhole' as her older brother used to call them. Quite frankly, it was a location more suited for young families than a girlfriend-less, childless workaholic like Randall. But who was she to pry.

Jazz passed a large sign for the apartment complex, reading 'Howlington Heights' followed by another that gave directions to other areas of the complex. But she'd seen this all before, dozens of times. These days, practically able to move about this area blind-folded. First she went through the front doors, absentmindedly waving to the receptionist in the lobby and an equally tired looking security guard that held the door for her. Not so much smiling, but nodding back to her, doing their best to acknowledge, but their eyes sagged. Looked like she wasn't the only one dead to the world.

Next, Jazz paused right before the stairs, using the spare mailkey Randall accidentally provided instead of his apartment key to check his mail. It was empty, aside from a weekly flyer and some bill or another. She knew he probably didn't mind, but her lips contorted in a frown. This was getting out of hand. No response in a week. And everyday he wasn't home. Granted, she knew he lived quite a schedule these days, but people needed breaks.. Things needed their attention. He couldn't stay married to that job... but..

Jazz bit her tongue, before catching a reflection of herself in the lengthy floor to ceiling mirror in the lobby. Boy, was she a hot mess. Somewhere along the way between leaving her shoe-box apartment earlier this morning, up until now, she'd managed to look half as crazed as that human child featured on the evening news last week. Gods and her poor blue scales, did she make a sight.

With a shake of her head, she roused her tired muscles to carry her up the stairs, a task that felt insurmountable with the way all six of her feet dragged. Giving a quick look over to the elevator and its yellow caution tape. Something had happened with them, Randall had said, maintenance had informed him that the safety codes and regulations wouldn't be in place to get the elevator fully functional and running again until at least Monday.. or something along those lines.

"Eh... We can walk a few stairs." Her mouth croaked. And though she protested, she eventually found the strength to get her first foot up the first step and then the next foot up the next. They could do it. They were a team. An army. The underdogs that never stopped fighting.

"Yeah, we can do this!" Jazz cheered, raising a single fist. And slowly, one stair at a time, they made their way through the rest of the flight and up to the fourth floor.

Finding the number '829' plastered in gray text on the silver surface of a door, Jazz proceeded to knock. To no response. Much like the last several times, her knocks were simply met with an angry silence, "Randall?", She tried again, knocking louder. "It's Jazz. Open up!"

Silence.

Wiping a stray, loose frond with her free hand, Jazz released a great sigh. Closing her eyes to make a minor concession. But this was by far the last time. The very last. The-final-absolute-no-question, final time. She raised her fist, counting out four successful raps. Followed by several more unanswered knocks.

Yep, definitely not the last time.

Leaning against the door, Jazz shook her head in defeat before slipping the mail underneath his door.

"Okay, he's not here. Again." Jazz sighed, resigning herself to another day without Randall around. Likely he was back at the factory. Overworked. Exhausted. Passed out at his desk, paperwork sprawled out in front of his mouth, drooling onto some blueprint for a new invention that she couldn't possibly understand. Before she could even contemplate venturing off to Monster's Inc, however, there was her darling son Rex that needed her full attention as well. And what was important was getting to that play of his on time!

With a final slurp and chug, Jazz stuffed the now empty thermos into her messenger bag and made her exit. Giving the door a pat. And with another wave to the receptionist, and a small smile. She left into the air outside, the sun climbing high into the mid-day sky.

Today, and by extension, the whole week had been... tough, even by Jazz's standards.

Rex's play tonight, however, was definitely cause for celebration. A bright light amongst the hellacious hours Jazz had put in to balance the scales. Sometimes one side tipped precariously high, then the next wobbled downward. Her own needs and health often went ignored for one reason or another. Still it was worth it. And making up time was hard, but completely necessary. She just had to push forward, and hope for the best. And she did.

Hoped the play would go well. Hoped and prayed it was a raging success and that her beloved little baby boy could finally tick one of those 'things to do' checkboxes off his new bucket list. Inspired by his uncle Randy's 'getting things done' spiel about 'motivation' and 'goals'. And his goals at such a young age were limited to such simplistic matters of having a good night's sleep, getting to have ice cream AND a cookie in one day, getting the big role in his play because the costume was cool or simply getting to see Randall. And unfortunately, that last one seemed to be a tricky objective to reach.

But he'd be there tonight at the very least. He'd promised and he always made good on them. He'd just been so busy the last week and somehow managed to fill his work-schedule with an extra ten hours every day. And hadn't contacted her or Rex once. But that was.. okay? He was an adult afterall. Free to do as he pleased, and leave them hanging...

Eventually, after a lengthy walk along the outskirts of suburbia and two connecting buses back into the city, her pace slowed as Jazz carefully maneuvered up the steps of the elementary school. Rex's school. It was easy to lose her way after a long day of doing, her schedule having a tendency to run circles in her mind. Thankfully, the school sat closer to her home, not Randall's, so they would have more time to pick up take out, get back and eat, sleep, do homework and so on. Or more realistically, she'd get the boy to go to sleep and try to organize everything in between nap-time and dawn before catching a few hours of shut eye before work. And repeat. No rest for the weary.

He was likely inside already. With the teacher, in his "human" costume and practicing their lines for some revised child friendly version of 'The Beastly Prince'. Her little one playing the beast himself. She knew of the story well enough. A young prince cursed with the form of a human after bullying all his friends and family away. Too toxic to be touched. He would never know another friend. Until one day a monster, whose soul was bright as gold met him and they became friends. In the original, the monster and the prince killed themselves in the end. Depressed about their misfortunes. But of course that was changed in the child friendly version. Now it would presumably be overcome through the power of friendship, and be endearing and all-that-good stuff.

After a handful of handshakes, form filling and half-hearted conversations with other parents, she took her leave down the hall and aproached the auditorium where the cast were supposed to meet and perform, she took a deep breath and crossed her fingers. Slipping inside the doorframe, peaking inside. Then, her eyes widened and grinned in mild surprise. There was indeed her little one in his costume. And what a costume it was.. hideous and terrifying for all the wrong reasons. But Rex had thought it was cool and did his damndest to be the one to perform and wear it.

As if she'd suddenly activated a proximity-sensor, a flurry of teachers and parents alike flooded the space between until the room was practically bulging with monsters. All chattering away happily. She joined the fray, slipping past the gaudy store bought decorations and pausing to appreciate all the actual props and hard work done by the studnets put into the displays to make the auditorium scream 'medieval times'. How the school managed to build this set-up and then pack and put it all away in under two hours was absolutely legendary. A magical feat if she'd ever seen one.

"Mom!" a voice squealed nearby. "Look!"

There he was. Rex. All in his terrible glory, proud as could be. His costume bunched up in odd places, too large for a kid his size. But despite it's slightly mangy appearance, Jazz saw her son positively glowing, ecstatic to show her his costume, yet not quite out of place surrounded by more elaborate costumes. She grinned.

"So... good?", she questioned, amused, but at the same time, being courteous. Approving, she'd say, to save face. "I'll say good!" Jazz complimented, going straight in for the hug and giving her son a small kiss on the cheek. "You do look good..."

"Good? Good?! Awesome, it's awesome!" Rex fidgeted, breaking the hug and waving his hands in her face excitedly. Showing off his paws and fangs with pride, as if he'd spent a lifetime saving to buy them. (Which for a 5 year old might seem true at times.) He also spun once, letting the costume's tail whip to and fro in a flurry of movement. As far as she was aware humans didn't have tails, but perhaps this was just artistic interpretation.

Rex stopped spinning a moment later, suddenly pausing to gaze up at his mother, craning his neck and tilting his head, "Where's Uncle Randy?"

Jazz deflated, slightly. Biting the inside of her cheek, she responded optimistically. "Oh he'll be here soon. I'm sure of it!" Because for both of their sakes, she knew and hoped this was the truth. And it was for the moment that her son was not doubting her. "Let's just make sure you've got everything ready and get ready to greet him when he walks through those doors, okay?"

Rex nodded quickly in agreement, his expression clouded with worry for a brief moment, but becoming much happier than he was before. "Okay! Oh!" he shouted in realization, jumping up to tap his forehead. "I need to show you something else." Grabbing Jazz's forearm, her son beckoned her along with the pretense of urgency and seriousness. "Kinda important!".

Drawn in by her son's antics, Jazz's curiosity grew and her smiled softened from "forced" to "pleasant" as she permitted the child to lead her towards a bench all decorated to look like a royal throne. Whereupon the throne, covered in bits of fake fur and more fabric lay a fake crown and an extremely large staff with feathers, colored beads and a glittery paste that Jazz guessed had the purpose of imitating jewels or gems. A plaque with her name 'Jazmine Marsh' embroidered above her sons name 'Rex Marsh'.

"Am I royalty now?", Jazz questioned, bending to pick up the accessories and dawning them with a grin.

Her son grinned, shaking his head, then ran in a small circle, before stopping. "No mom," he exclaimed, placing the palm of his hand atop his head. "I'm the royal. You're the royal guardian!"

"Oh," she drew out, sitting at the 'throne'. Tapping her staff to the floor twice before becoming completely stone-faced and serious. "Well, My Prince," She said, nodding curtly and holding her head higher, "how may I be of service to you this fine day? Your first order?"

"Um..." he hummed in consideration, before making the motion of ordering her to stay where she was. "Stay there!"

"As you wish my Prince. It is my duty." She raised her nose upward proudly, laughing. Making herself comfortable on the slightly uncomfortable seat.

"Oh and this is where Uncle Randy is going to sit! He's the Court.. uh.. Inventor!" Rex shouted, gesturing widely as if to show off some exquisite masterpiece.

But he didn't know the consequences of these words, and the poor choice of timing came about when Rex didn't realize how hard her tail struck the 'chair' because of her fear that Randall wouldn't show. And that something was indeed very wrong.

"Sorry." She blurted. Immediately setting aside the staff and looking over at Randall's seat. A good reflection of his personality, atleast from the standpoint of a child. Techy patterns drawn onto cardboard, mismatched wires and a smattering of parts that her mind recognized, but couldn't identify the meaning or application of.

"This goes to the, um-"

"Students!" A voice called over his own, Rex's home-room teacher. "Parents, please, go find your seats! Places everyone, we'll be starting any moment now!" And indeed, they were. Jazz could hear the sounds of patrons getting situated and sitting in their rows.

She hugged her son, pressing her chin against the top of the beast's head, then releasing him with another quick kiss. "Break a leg."

"Thanks." He replied, eyes trailing on the door at the back of the room for a second longer than necessary, but eventually sprinted for his position on the stage.

Shoving her hands into the depths of her messenger bag, Jazz pulled free a large handheld camcorder in one hand, and an empty tape in the other. Her trusty camera. With a switch, she popped in the tape and pressed the red button, the machine's lenses' flashed to life, the lenses iris' adjusting to the slightly dimmed lights. Recording and transferring this moment in time, forever capturing it.

The play was short, running barely forty-five minutes in total. There was Rex's character, the monster turned human, and a few other characters that were loosely part of the same kingdom. Some evil, most good, each finding their happily ever after by the end. Rex was awesome. Or well, Jazz wanted to think he was awesome, afterall, if she was praising every little thing her son did, it wouldn't be fair. It was an alright play. Diverging heavily from the original story. Which made her chuckle. The child playing the monster from the story had taken center stage, outperforming everyone. Practically paving her way straight to stardom with sheer talent alone. Even when Rex uttered a small slip-up in one of his lines and her son had to say it over, he still remained so proud, even cracking a smile when he thought he hadn't messed up as badly. Which he hadn't. And even if he did, it would be a funny moment to look over when he was older as she finished the recording and stowed the recorder back in her bag.

But there was still one glaring unresolved issue, Randall wasn't there. His chair sat as vacant as it did when she arrived. Something clearly wrong, not like him. He promised. He had to know how important this was to Rex. Didn't he? A tinge of worry settling in the back of Jazz's mind. Rex took notice as well. Having peered towards the empty seat a few times towards the end of the show. Face falling lower each glance. Maybe Jazz had been too optimistic about Randall coming, thinking it was just a minor struggle to get to the show and so nothing seemed like it was terribly wrong. And that had blown up in her face.

She grit her teeth. Thinking and thinking, but with no solution in mind. It was one thing to break a promise to her. They weren't kids anymore and it was okay to do that kind of thing every once in a while. It happened, and Jazz had forgiven him plenty of times before. But this was Rex. Stuff meant to him, Randall just understood him in a way that she didn't at times. And when that stuff was special to them both, like this play? That made it a whole different ball game.

Randall was supposed to be the cool uncle. Not the bad guy in this scenario. Rex looked up to him, respected his opinions, ideas and listened more, even took his words to heart. Was the only semblance of "father figure" that the boy had. Randall had essentially thrown himself into the position after her husband left them. And had done a pretty bang up job at being there. Because if anyone understood the lack of a proper father figure, it was Randall and Jazz both.

After another short speech and a bow of all acting students, she headed backstage to find her son, all the props he'd made in tow. As expected, he was there, all alone, looking like somebody had knocked the wind right out of his sails.

The little monster wiped away a tear in frustration. "He didn't make it, did he?"

Jazz's tail drooped in dismay. Regret. And she shook her head once, biting her lip. "No, he didn't."

"Where is he?"

Jazz's eyes flashed away with a grimace and said, "I don't know."