Chapter Text
One Sunday morning, a taxi was driving upon the roads of Windslar when it turned and stopped itself in front of Rustic Residence. Two Sims stepped out, and the taxi drove off.
Charles was optimistic about this move. He could see water and trees for as far as possible. It was a nice change of scenery from the cramped apartment in the city. This house looked much bigger than that. Still small, but not claustrophobic like where he last lived. The wind blew through his wavy, chin-length, dark hair and Charles scrunched his eyes in face of the gust. He could get used to this. In fact, it probably won't take any time at all! Through the squint, he could see his new neighbours. They seemed nice. Maybe he could make a few friends, or...
His bliss was interrupted by by a hand on his shoulder. "Isn't this great, son?" Bruce said.
Snapped back to reality, Charles hesitated. He had nearly forgotten about his dad while he was daydreaming. "Yeah, sure," he answered. His dad had started being a lot nicer to him about a month before the move, mostly because other people could hear while he was talking to the house seller guys. He always put up a pleasant front with other people, but Charles knew better. He could hear even the slightest difference in volume in his dad's shoes that indicated that he had a bad day at work and that Charles was going to pay for it. Sometimes when he wasn't directly in view of the front door though, Bruce would be a little calmer by the time he eventually found Charles. This was difficult back in the apartment. There wasn't much room. This wouldn't be a problem here.
Bruce looked at his new house and smiled with relief. Charles said, "Can we go in now?"
"Sure."
The living room was a decent size, the sofa was comfortable, and the kitchen was in a separate room! The hallway led to the primary bedroom, which Bruce quickly settled into. The bathroom was about twice the size of the apartment's bathroom. It actually had space to run around in, which puzzled Charles. Why would you need all that space in a bathroom? Still, he wasn't going to complain. Finally, the last bedroom with a blue single bed was the one that Charles claimed.
He sat on his new bed and sighed. He wondered if his dad's sudden kindness would be here to stay. Charles knew it was all a front, but it still felt nice. Maybe Bruce would forget how to call his own son a waste of space and a pest that he couldn't spray for legal reasons. Maybe.
Just then, he heard a knock at the front door. The sound jolted him to his feet. What now?
As Charles walked into the hallway, Bruce was already up and out of his bed, his short, chalk-blond hair frazzled from his nap. It was clear he was thinking the same thing as his son.
He tiredly opened the door to find three women: one with black, braided hair in a pink dress, one with short, brown hair and a green jacket, and one with brown hair in a ponytail and glasses holding some sort of baked good with a red ribbon tied around it.
"Welcome to the neighbourhood!"