Andre snuffs out his second blunt of the night, having barely even smoked half of it. He discards of it onto the sidewalk beside the previous one, putting it out with the toe of his boot, and leans his head back against the brick wall of the apartment building. He's been off of work for an hour now, but instead of coming home immediately, he's taking the time to calm his nerves before he has to see her.

The other night, she had pitched the idea of going to college; she's 21, all her friends are graduating or have already graduated, and all she has is her high school diploma. At first, Andre laughed at the request. From the second she came to live under his roof, he had repeatedly drilled the idea into her mind that she would never have to work a day in her life, would never have to lift a pretty little finger, not with the money he has.

When she looked at him with tear-filled eyes and a jutted out bottom lip, he realized she was dead fucking serious on wanting to go back to school and get a job. He could hardly fathom the idea of her getting a degree and leaving him all alone once she graduates.

They ended up arguing, and she stamped her feet and slammed her bedroom door after Andre called her "an ungrateful little brat." She's been avoiding him since, but Andre's fed up with it now and will get her to speak to him.

With a sullen nod to the doorman and a brief, tight-lipped smile to the concierge, Andre makes his way to the 23rd floor, impatiently watching as the elevator comes down to pick him up, and slowly ascend up the apartment building.

2... 3... 4... fuck, can this thing go any slower?

Andre practically barrels out of the elevator when the 23rd floor is reached, nearly steamrolling an older, graying lady with whom he's helped with her groceries a couple of times in the process. He mutters a quick apology before inserting his key into the lock of his penthouse and pushing it open.

He's surprised to see her sitting on the couch watching TV instead of holed-up in her bedroom when he comes home, what she's been doing for the past couple of days. She used to greet him with a hug and a kiss on the cheek, but now he's lucky enough if he gets a look of acknowledgement from her.

As he kicks off his shoes and unzips the top of his jumpsuit, Andre cautiously makes his way over to her as if she's a little bunny he's attempting to catch. When he reaches her, he slides onto the couch next to her, the piece of furniture creaking slightly under his weight. Her eyes are still fixated on the TV, refusing to give Andre the time of day.

Stubborn brat.

Andre slithers an arm around the back of the couch, tilting his head to study her expression carefully. "Are you done sulkin' now, babygirl? I'd like to talk to you like civil adults, but you're being a brat."