Chapter Text
Of course, when Chance decided to search out Parker days after the dice roll, he was nowhere to be found.
He wasn’t too sure why he looked for Parker. He always came down every few days or threw a Connect Four token through Hector's vents (his…odd form of an invitation to the attic), meaning his restlessness was clearly unwarranted. Yet he’d walked upstairs anyway, shouldered past Dorian, only to see him gone.
Chance stared at the half-empty board game box in the attic in confusion, a chessboard and its pieces in place as if Parker had left in the middle of his game. Which…Chance doubted he’d ever do. His love for the game far surpassed his love for pacing around the room ranting to Doug about his detrimental thoughts on the future of board game production, or whatever else made Parker move from his beloved spot.
Chance decided his best bet was to check the musty container holding the games, crouching down to inspect the pile.
“You won’t find him in the cardboard box. He doesn’t fit. He’s tried, but it is quite useless. Fun to watch, however.”
Chance sighed, hearing the familiarity of Hector's voice, turning around to see a grey, rusty machine talking behind him. “Hector? Have… you turned into a box?”
“I didn’t take you for someone of low intellect, Chance. Use those perception stats of yours.” Hector sounded almost giddy, clearly on some kind of happiness high from something that had happened around the house. Probably talking to the homeowner again.
“It was a joke.”
“Ah. Well, it was not humorous in the slightest.”
“Thats—” Chance stopped talking and walked over, intently staring the box down. “Do you know where Parker is?”
Eyes appeared from the grate on the top of the system, peering at him. “You must be desperate, considering you never come up here unless he asks.”
“Do you?” Chance sounded impatient, his hand balling into fists yet again. He leaned over Hector's box, staring directly at him, pointedly ignoring the final part of his sentence.
“Lower your temperature. He sat up in the middle of our game, mumbling something about a “spark of inspiration” before he darted out of the room. Dorian would’ve seen him, did he fail to mention it?”
“I could barely convince Dorian to let me in here…” Chance grumbled, glancing at the intimidating bouncer at the front. He met Dorian's piercing glare, hair pricking up at the icy look. Chance quickly turned back to the friendlier eyes in the box. “...Doesn’t sound like Parker. He’s not one to leave in the middle of a game.”
“He’s a wild card. Good luck with finding him. And visit more often, he gets lonely easily. I’m sick of hearing him talk about trademark scams and whatnot.”
┈┈・୨ ⚁ ୧・┈┈
Chance really, really needed that luck. Despite being a walking beacon of neon colours, finding Parker was like trying to find a copper coin in a bag of holding. So naturally, Chance decided the best course of action was to merely ask the other objects to shorten the search and get more reach.
Scandelabra was first on the list because if someone saw Parker downstairs, it would be the gossiping light.
“He’s gone missing? What a scandal! I must go tell everyone!” He squealed, a Cheshire smile creeping up his cheeks.
Aaaand it was a bust. Chance watched him speed off in the direction of the laundry room, holding his hair like a wig.
“Trying to find someone?” Maggie called from on top of the table. She hopped down, her enlarged eye glancing over Chance quizzingly.
“Yeah…Parker. You seen him?”
“I’ll keep an eye out down here. Was he kidnapped? Trafficked? Assassinat—”
“No, he wasn’t. Thanks for offering to look. Let me know if you see him.” Chance nodded in appreciation. Another magnifying glass was produced from her pocket, and she muttered to herself while staring at meaningless stains on the cupboards, much to Cabrizzo’s displeasure.
Chance then spent a good while under the crawlspace, conversing with a putrid rat-object thing who wouldn’t tell him anything directly till he gave him cheese. Despite giving him the exclusive caminbergie he'd been saving for a campaign snack, he turned out to know absolutely nothing—great! Chance ended up getting muck all over his hands, so his next stop was the upstairs washroom. He placed his glasses on the counter and rubbed his face with water.
Why should I even look for him…? He’s probably fine.
Chance took a handful of the liquid and gulped it down, staring at his reflection in the mirror.
“See that? It’s a sign, dear Chance!”
His eye twitched, his face now contrasted by pink.
"Red's really your colour, Chance!" Amir seemed positive, as evidenced by the thumbs-up he gave Chance. He sat on top of the mirror, making strange hand signs at the dice, like a cameraman. Chance was sure he heard him laugh at the sight of his face.
He hurriedly finished up, moving away from Amir and sliding his glasses back on before noticing a blue-haired man beatboxing on top of the toilet. His face was skewed by concentration, mouth moving faster than a toilet's should. A bowl wrapped around his neck, gleaming in the light as the man spat out words in a language Chance didn't know.
Can’t hurt to ask…
“Have you seen Parker? The board games?”
The man stopped spitting bars and turned to him with a scowl from being interrupted, and then Chance remembered him. And his great personality.
“Why would ze boardgames be in ze bathroom? Don’t be rrridiculous. Stupide! ” Said a frustrated Jean Loo, perched upon his porcelain throne on his tiptoes, rolling his r’s. “Now stop interrupting Lil Crapper’s crap sesh. Shoo, shoo!”
"Sorry, man! For Crit's sake..." Chance huffed, storming out the room.
The bathroom was useless, so Chance headed towards the closet in the bedroom next, seeing the Hanks return from the kitchen downstairs. The colourful frats looked off—off in the sense that they were coated head to toe in water, grinning ear to ear. But they were the first objects Chance saw, so they'd have to do.
“Hey…y’all haven't happened to see Parker at all, have you?” Chance said from behind one of them, the fifth one, causing them to jump and then scurry away from him.
“Haven’t seen anything, homie!” Claimed Hank 1. He wrung out a towel in his hands, watching fixedly as the water leaked through the floor cracks.
“Been busy all day catching waves with River, broski!” A drenched Hank 2 pumped his hand into the air, hollering like being soaked in water was a great accomplishment.
“We are soaked to the bones, dude. Wet all over.” Hank 3 glanced up from the floor, uncomfortably grinning at Chance. He avoided the Hank’s gaze, stepping back.
“It. Was. Gnarly.” the voice of Hank 4 echoed from behind a stack of cardboard. He stretched his arm out, clenching his palms to emphasise his point.
“Totally legit. Hope ya find him, brochaco!” With the sentiment from Hank 5, the Hanks went back to drying their colourful uniforms, ignoring the d20.
Chance trudged down the hall with his hands intertwined with his hair, staring at the entrance to the sports room. The number of places Parker could be in there had Chance wishing he was back in his dicebag, taking a long, hard rest.
To the side stood the gym Dorian. He’d been watching him converse unsuccessfully with the upstairs objects, letting out robotic chuckles to himself, which Chance heard every time.
He didn't have the same presence as the attic door did. More relaxed.
“Need help?” Dorian asked, his face in a smile at Chance, stopping his entry into the gym room. “He’s not in there. The guy you’re looking for.”
Chance did not get him at all, but he guessed Dorian was taking pity on him. He'd take whatever help he could get, because Maggie appeared to have trotted off elsewhere instead of looking for Parker.
“Uh…if you’re offering…” He said with apprehension.
“No need to fear. I’m not gonna hurt you.”
“Yeah, well, that's what people usually say when they are gonna hurt ya.”
“Fair. Follow me.”
┈┈・୨ ⚁ ୧・┈┈
The room right next to the attic. Because where else would he be?
Chance groaned in frustration—It should’ve been the first place he checked.
“Good luck. It’s a real ruckus in there. They’ve been at it for hours.” Dorian stared in what Chance thought was sympathy.
“At…it? You know what. Don’t answer that, I’ll see for myself.”
Dorian moved out of the way, allowing him access.
Inside, he saw the familiar hat of the boardgames, engaged in a heated one-sided argument with the toolbox, which was staring at him like he’d begun to grow horns out of the monopoly cash topping his head.
“When you land on the fifth square, you gotta move back two squares, because it's too hot! What do you not get!?”
Rules. Of course.
Tony tilted his head to the side stupidly. “And, uh, why can’t I just, ya know, thug it out? Use sunscreen.”
“You. Didn’t. Get. Sunscreen. Out. Of. The. Car. You didn’t land on that space, you blunt tool!” Parker was foaming at the mouth, shaking Tony in desperation. It was clear this was not his first attempt at explaining the game. “And you can't just ‘thug it out’ there is no ‘thugging it out’ allowed in the rules! You gotta follow the rules!”
“Oi, I ain't no blunt tool. I'm the sharpest in the shed. The newest. The shiniest. And—”
Chance felt genuine fear of what Tony was about to say. Please don't set Parker off just don’t set him off Crit please—
“—they should change the rules to allow sunscreen at all points. It’s stupid—”
If Chance hadn’t been there to pull Parker back, Tony’s tools might’ve had teeth-shaped dents in them. It took all his effort to tug Parker away, who was furiously fighting against him, like a rabid animal. “That little– Let me– C’MERE— Go— Chance? ”
Parker stopped moving, whipping his head around to look up at Chance. He seemingly forgot his mission of tearing Tony in two, in favour of being incredulous at the dice. “What are ya doing here? I don’t remember sending down a token today…” Despite looking dumbfounded, his face stretched into a large beam, clearly delighted. The anger he'd felt seem to fizzle away as he willingly let himself be pulled around by the dice.
“Dude, enough with the tokens. Just come and invite me up next time.” Chance looked even more miffed, pulling Parker further away and closer to him.
Not because he wanted him close. It was so Tony had a chance at life. “I’m here to stop things like this from happening.”
Tony scoffed, hiding the terrified sweat trickling down his face as he boasted, “You’s being ridiculous. I-I can take him on in a fight.”
“Shut up, Tony. You aren’t helping the situation right now.”
Tony grumbled to himself. Parker had wound himself up enough that, while he was staying still in Chance’s arms, he began to glare at Tony. “That little no-good wrenched —”
“Happy thoughts, man. Think of happy thoughts.” Chance dropped the relationship dice into Parker's lap, which he happily grabbed and began to roll around in his hands with glee. He leaned against Chance's legs, causing him to freeze up, staring down at Parker’s wide grin, facing him.
“Why’d he even come talk to you?” Chance darted his head upwards.
Parker began to stare daggers at Tony, clearly silently urging him to shut up.
“Oh he just wanted to make a gi—er… a giant…chess piece. Then next time he’s gonna make…a…giant…chess piece board, yeah.” Tony blanked, staring at Chance with all the confidence of a fifth grader. Parker snapped his head up at Tony, re-enraged, but not moving to do anything besides baring his teeth and chomping them together threateningly.
Chance knew Parker was not making a giant chess piece. If he were to make a large version of one of his games, his first choice would not be chess. It would most likely be…Sandyland, Chance guessed.
But that was not important. Since it wasn't that...
It meant he was making a gift. And based on Tony’s lacklustre attempt not to disclose the actual item to Chance, it was, logically, for him.
"My dear friend Chance!"
He felt heat sliding its devilish fingers over his ears and neck, his hands twitching by his sides before gripping the charms on his wrist with more force than necessary. His heartbeat became too loud for his ears. He flinched back, making Parker look back at him in confusion.
It's probably not for me. Stupid ego. And why would he talk to Tony about that? He is stupid enough to make a giant chess set.
Parker was still staring at Chance, or perhaps the red tips of his ears, with far more interest than he should have. Chance deployed his usual emotion management strategy—staring at something else and avoiding eye contact. In this case, Tony was a good target.
Get a hold of yourself, Chance.
“Sure, Tony. Whatever you say. Giant chess set…”
“See, you know what I’m talking about!”
Tony gave a thumbs up to Parker, who proceeded to fling a board game piece into his eye.
“OW—fuck you, Parker!”