>After sitting amidst the land of cubicles for longer than you can recall, clacking away at the keyboard as you burn through spreadsheets and data reports, you decide it's time for a smoke break. >Reaching into the bottom drawer of your desk, you pull out a pack of smokes and a lighter, along with your sunglasses. >As you make to leave your little square of repetitive hell, you feel a tug on your rolled up sleeve. "Ahem, aren't you forgetting something?" comes a young, feminine voice. >Barely a whisper, it continues to address you as you turn towards the source. "You almost left me here, Papa." >Sitting crossed legged against the cubicle wall is a girl, looking to be no more than eleven years old, her crimson eyes staring up at you as you face her, an innocent smile painted across her face. "Oh, sorry Seras," you whisper with a smile, kneeling down to ruffle her spiky jet black hair. >It's so short that it barely brushes past your fingers, but the length feels almost like a brush to your palm. >She smiles at the gentle petting, a disappointed whine escaping her as you pull away. "C'mon, let's step outside for a bit." >With a nod, she stands from her corner of the cubicle, setting her coloring book and crayons to the side for the moment. As she moves to her feet, she brushes off her black skirt and straightens her red sweater, taking care to make sure the Ruger logo on the left breast is easily visible. "Okay, I'm ready, Papa!" she announces, her voice still a whisper. >You reach behind her and gently grasp the back of her neck, causing the little geist to morph back into her pistol form. You slide the palm sized pocket rocket into her holster before nestling her in the right pocket of your khakis. >You walk out of your cubicle and pass multiple empty ones as you head towards the elevator, vacating your lonely corner of the office for the chance to indulge in some nicotine. When you finally reach the populated side of the floor, you poke your head into your supervisor's office. "Goin up for a smoke, Glenda." "Why do you always go up to the roof, Anon? Street corner too good for you?" the middle aged supervisor teases. "Take your time, see ya back in a bit." >With a quick wave, you make your way to the elevator. A few minutes and a short ride later, you're stepping out on the roof of your office building. >The sun has almost set, despite your only being a third of the way into your shift. Almost a bonus of working the late shift, you found out long ago that this was the best time and spot to watch as the sun set across the city. "Alright, sweetie, you can come out," you say, pulling the mico .380 from your pocket. >The moment you set the pistol on the ground, the loli girl appears standing next to you. "Yay, play time!" she giggles, spreading her arms wide as she begins to skip around the barren rooftop. "Just stay away from the edge," you call, lighting a cigarette. >You can't help but smile as you watch her skip towards the spot you keep her playthings hidden, just like a child despite her being a pistol. You take a long drag, a cloud of blue smoke pouring from your mouth and nostrils as you exhale. >She returns a few moments later, a small plaster bucket in her hands. Setting it down next to the old office chair you're sitting in, she pulls a piece of chalk and a pebble from a tattered cardboard box. "Gonna play some hopscotch?" you ask, watching her like the pseudo father you are, always keen to be aware of her actions. "Mmhmmm," she sings, drawing the squares out on the roof. >Dusting the pink chalk dust from her hands once finished, she then tosses the pebble down the court. "Here I go, Papa!" she announces. >Tongue stuck between her lips in concentration, the pocket loli begins hopping her way down the court. She makes it to where the the pebble landed and stops to scoop it up. >Instead of turning on one foot like one would expect you to do in hopscotch, she instead plants both feet on the ground before turning around on her tiptoes, doing her best to stay inside her square. >Tongue back out, she makes her way back down to the start point. She's sure to make her landing audible, nearing stomping her foot as she finishes. She throws her arms in the air in triumph, turning to you with a massive grin on her face. "Amazing, that's my girl!" you cheer, sticking the nicotine blanket between your lips before gently clapping for her performance. >She gives a small bow before turning back to her game, once again tossing the pebble down court and hopping away. >You take this time to pull out your phone, checking your personal email and Facebook. An "lol" here, a "like" there... Facebook check complete. >Time for Tinder! >You're only five swipes in when your attention is wrenched away from your phone when you hear a thud and Seras crying out in surprise. "Wah!" she yelps, falling towards the ground. >She tripped, a loose shoelace the culprit, sending her plummeting onto the roof with an audible thud. She lies there a moment in shock, silent. That doesn't last. >Not even two seconds later, tears quickly well up in her eyes and her lip quivers as the pain reaches her. Tears stream down her face as she begins to cry. "P-Papa!" she wails. >You're out of your seat before she's even hit the ground, your cigarette and phone flung to the side as you rocket towards her. "Shh, shh, it's okay honey," you coo, scooping her into your arms. >You give her a look over, finding no real damage other than her clothes being a little dirty. Her white stockings, in particular. "You're alright, Seras," you comfort, sitting back in the chair with her in your lap. >You gently kiss her forehead as you begin rocking back and forth, her crying slowly dying out as she finds comfort and security in your arms. >As the two of you rock back and forth, you hear your phone buzz from the ground next to you. You scoop it up without disturbing Seras and quickly read the text. >"Gone on dinner break, be back in an hour -Glenda." >With another hour secured, you decide there's no rushing back to your desk. Instead, you resign yourself to continue rocking your pocket loli there on the roof. >The sun's all but gone, now, with barely any natural light left, but you know there will only be a brief moment of darkness before the security lights along the edge of the roof turn on. >As you sit and rock, Seras now calm, you begin to find yourself slowly dozing off. >Damn, didn't even get halfway through that cigarette. >As you go to reach for another, Seras gently taps your cheek. "Papa?" she asks, wiping at her drying eyes. "Yes, little one?" you answer, looking down at her. "I'm hungry, is it snack time?" >As your eyes meet hers, you notice that they're glowing slightly. Yeah, definitely snack time. "I suppose it is, isn't it," you chuckle. "Yay, thank you, Papa!" she smiles, licking her lips in anticipation. >Your left hand leaves the pack of nicotine sticks in your pocket, instead curling into a fist with your pinky finger out as it moves towards her mouth. >She eagerly opens her maw, two sharp, albeit small, fangs at the ready. Your offered finger is barely past her lips before she chomps down, greedily sucking on your blood. >You wince slightly from the pain, but you've become used to it. Even though she's a little blood sucker, you love her like a daughter and would gladly do anything to keep her happy. >The two of you sit there for the next fifteen minutes in perfect comfort. >She curled up in your lap, gently suckling on your pinkie finger, while you lazily rock back and forth in the surplus office chair. >As you rock away the time, you slowly realize that your pseudo daughter is no longer feeding on you. >A quick look down confirms that she's fallen asleep in your lap, your pinkie dangling from her mouth with her petite hands gently grasped around your wrist in an attempt to keep your finger and hand in position. "You were hungry, weren't you," you whisper with a chuckle. >Ever so gently, you free your hand from her sleeping grasp as you stand and adjust her in your arms. >With her head nestled into the crook of your neck, you enjoy the sound of her quiet breathing during the elevator ride back to your floor. >Normally, you'd have to transform her to pistol form to keep her hidden from Glenda, but with her out of the office there was no issue. >You return to your cubicle and move your chair out of the way with your foot to make room as you kneel down to look under your desk. >There, you find the overstuffed black pillow and red blanket that serve as Seras' nap area. >Ever so gently with practiced movements, you slide the pocket vampire loli under your desk and tuck her in for her nightly nap. >Standing, you realize that you're slightly light headed from her feeding. Good thing you've got orange juice and a sugar cookie in your desk drawer. >Sitting back at your computer, you lean back in your chair for a moment as you look over the drawings tacked to the walls of your cubicle. >A few coloring book pages here and there, but they're mostly drawings of you and Seras playing, or her and the other geists. As far as the employees from the other shifts know, your daughter drew them. >Well, they're right, for the most part. >Reaching into a desk drawer, you return your pack of smokes and unused sunglasses. "Why do I always bring those?" you mutter, pulling a small bottle of OJ from the back of the drawer. >As you open the package to retrieve a store bought sugar cookie, you hear Seras tossing and turning in her sleep, a few whimpers escaping her. >You peer under your desk, concern furrowing your brow. Upon further inspection, you see the issue. "Ah, no Alucard," you realize. >Spinning in your chair, you reach into your backpack and pull a small red phoenix stuffed animal from inside. >Colored just like the Ruger logo, Seras had pulled the name for the plushie from the same source as you had her name. >Funny how Seras was incomplete with Alucard nearby, especially when sleeping. >Grinning like an idiot, you quickly and quietly sneak the stuffed animal into the sleeping loli's arms. She instantly calms down once she has the felt companion held close to her chest. "My sweet little Seras," you coo, brushing your hand through her hair. "Sleep tight, you little fire cracker." >Sitting back up and rolling up to your computer, you return to your work while enjoying the snack of juice and cookie. >The clatter of your keyboard slowly melds into nothing but background noise as you subconsciously zone in on the steady breathing of the sleeping Seras at your feet. >Life may not be perfect or fair, but that doesn't matter. You've got more than you could ever ask for sleeping at your feet right now.