Dave Strider held the small purple umbrella over his younger sister and tried to ignore the freezing rain that battered his right side. It was better that she stayed dry so she didn't get sick. Dave looked down at Rose and fought a smile. Even though they had different fathers, they looked almost identical. Both of them had silver-blonde hair and clear, pale skin. Their matching eyebrows were thin and symmetrical, and they both had that semi-lopsided smile that could win over any argument. He could already tell Rose would be the sarcastic type, not unlike himself, and breathtakingly beautiful when she got older. Dave knew he'd wind up being over protective, but for now that was a good thing. The loud slam of a car trunk closing brought Dave back to reality.

"So this is your new place, kid. Least for now. Damn, you got off lucky. Rich folk." Mr. Spades smiled and ruffled Dave's hair before picking up a red suitcase and two small pink bags. "I got your stuff for ya. No problem. Really kid, you're gonna love it here, I promise."

"Yeah, well, we'll see." Dave replied nonchalantly. Though his tone carried an I-Don't-Really-Care attitude, his heart was beating like he had run a marathon, and it was becoming difficult to breathe. This happened every time they switched houses. Foster care was tough, spontaneous, and Dave found it difficult to cope with it. Being pulled out of a home without warning, then shoved into a new one whether it was good or bad. Some had perverted grandpas that liked little girls; some had drunk assholes that screamed at their wives. Not all were bad, of course, but he could never be too careful or too prepared. He had a sister to protect, and she was going to be protected. Dave used his free hand to hold Rose's tiny one, being as gentle as he could. No need to scare her, he thought.

As he followed Mr. Slick up to the front steps, he looked up at the giant house. Well, if you could call it a house. This place is like a house-mansion crossover. Godzilla uses this place as a dollhouse. It's like the writers of Scooby Doo came in and hired a shit ton of architects to built their creepy haunted houses, modern-style. Très magnifique. All joking aside, he had to admit it was impressive. It was at least three stories, and was a brilliant white with a royal purple trim around the windows, door, and edge of the roof. The lawn was bright green with flowers along the sides of the house, and there were two large oak trees on either side of the walkway. A medium sized wooden porch welcomed people to the large front door, and was easily visible from the circle driveway. It all looked clean, even though the overcast sky and heavy rain brought a layer of filth to everything under it. Once they reached the front door, Mr. Slick lightly tapped the doorbell. Instead of a normal chime, an odd honk sound could be heard from inside. Rose giggled.

The door opened to reveal a tall man with shoulder-length, messy black hair and a giant smile. The corner of his eyes had laugh lines, and he was well toned but not overly buff. He was wearing a black suit with a purple tie and purple cuffs, as well as shining black shoes with purple laces. There was a thick gold watch on his wrist, and a small scar on his cheek. His skin wasn't too dark, but he was definitely Hispanic to some degree. At closer inspection, Dave thought his dark brown eyes seemed to have small traces of purple in them (though whether this was a reflection from his clothing or his actual eye colour was uncertain).

"You must be Dave and Rose! Welcome!" The large guy said, holding out his hand. Dave released Rose's hand to shake with the big guy, a small "sup" escaping his lips. His hand was almost crushed by the older man's strength.

"Hello Mr. Slick! I'll take the bags from here, it's ok. Why don't you kids go on inside? BOYS, COME ON DOWN!"

Dave took Rose's hand again and carefully led her inside while the big guy and Mr. Slick talked. The interior of the house wasn't too surprising, considering the fantastic exterior. A large foyer with wooden flooring greeted the kids. Directly across from the front door stood a slightly curved staircase with carpeted steps. The carpet was bright white, and the railing was the same dark purple that seemed to appear everywhere. To the left of the staircase, a narrow hallway went down to what Dave assumed was the kitchen, considering the banging and clanging coming from that direction, usually followed by a shout of some sort. To the right was a living room type area. It had a large flat screen T.V., a purple sofa, and two fluffy white chairs. In between the chairs and T.V. sat a wooden coffee table with a glass top. It seemed more like it would be used for office parties than family time. They don't seem like the super bowl Sunday type, but whatever floats their yacht I guess. Two sets of feet coming down the stair caught Dave's attention. One- THUMP THUMP THUMP! Two- Tap Tap Tap. As he looked up, he saw two boys trotting down the steps.

The first one, apparently the louder one, seemed about 15 years old. His dark hair looked almost black, and it almost covered his eyes in it's tangled mess. He was wearing a black shirt with some rock group on it, and faded black jeans that were a size too big. His skin matched that of the man who answered the door. As he came down the steps, he stared at his feet like they were a new animal species, and a pair of over-the-ear headphones bounces against his neck.

The second one had much more grace. He seemed to be in his late teens- 17 or 18- and held his head high as he came down the steps. He wore a fitting long sleeved black V-neck, and a pair of dark purple skinny jeans. He had a gold eyebrow ring that flashed as he moved, reflecting light like a mirror. His hair, although messy, framed his face. It was obvious that he was from an upper class family.

But what caught Dave's attention most was the makeup they both wore. Their faces were painted white, with gray outlining certain parts. For the younger, the gray surrounded his eyes and mouth, with thin triangles over his cheeks. For the older, the gray covered his cheeks in larger triangles, complimenting his strong cheekbones, and was in a mask-style around his eyes.

"Heeeeeeeeeey! You're the motherfucking new kids! I'm Gamzee," the younger scratched out. After a warning glance from Dave and a quick throat-clearing from the older kid, Gamzee smiled and muttered an almost non-understandable apology about cussing in front of Rose. He was quickly shoved out of the way by the older- and taller- boy.

"Kurloz. Kurloz Makara," he said with a whispery voice, holding out his hand. "This is my younger brother Gamzee Makara. We welcome you to our home."

Dave shook his hand and said, "Thanks. I'm Dave, Dave Strider, and this is my little sis Rose LaLonde. Been awhile since we had one of those, huh Rosie?"

"One 'a what?" Gamzee cut in. He had a large goofy smile on his face, and he was staring off at the door.

"Home!" Rose chirped. Everyone turned to look at her, and she beamed up a large smile right back at them.

"Yeah. A home. Don't think we ever really had one, anyway." Dave said, trying to keep up his I-don't-really-give-a-shit charade. Gamzee maneuvered his way around his brother to put an arm over Dave's shoulder. Behind his shades, Dave's eyes widened.

"Don't worry, bro," Gamzee said with a larger smile. "We got you covered there. As of today, this place is the motherfucking Makara-Strider-LaLonde house!"