Chapter Text
Ryland Grace needs money. Badly. Despite his passion for teaching, being a middle school science teacher doesn't pay a whole lot, unfortunately. He's thought about getting a part-time job, but most of them either conflicts with his work schedule or forces him to deal with people in a way that would probably lead to him calling somebody a 'staggering waste of carbon' again. He's already cut down on as many living expenses as he possibly could and it's still not enough. He doesn't even want to consider this as an option, but it's starting to look like he might have to sell his house and move into a smaller apartment, which will be a total nightmare for Rocky. He could already imagine the robot complaining about a lack of space to run around and follow Ryland everywhere.
He lets out a long, over-dramatic sigh as he buries his face in his hands, draping his whole upper body over his desk as he stares down at the various overdue bills scattered over the desk's surface. What in the world am I gonna do? He could hear the quiet pattering as Rocky approaches his desk.
"What wrong, Grace?" the monotone voice of his friend fills the small, silent office room.
Ryland groans loudly. "Grace doesn't have any money," he laments into his hands, his voice coming out muffled. He could feel one of Rocky's hands reach up and gently touch his forearm.
"Will Grace die, question?"
Ryland sputters out a laugh. "No, Rocky I'm not gonna die, bud." He lifts his head up and looks down at Rocky, his body tilted up in a simulation of eye contact. "It just means Grace is bad at math and planning, statement." He places his hand over where Rocky's was resting on his sleeve and pats it gently. "I'll be okay, I promise."
"Rocky already knew Grace bad at math and planning," Rocky lets out his version of a laugh as Ryland stands from his chair and stretches his arms above his head.
"Haha, very funny," he says as he walks out of his office and into the hallway. "But seriously, I definitely need to figure out a way to get a lot more money and quickly."
After dinner and twenty (eighty) different Google searches about part time jobs that involve little or no people within biking distance (and steering clear from the ones that sounded even remotely science-adjacent), Ryland was incredibly close to giving up and accepting the fact he may actually have to sell his house— only one of three homes he's ever known. The house he grew up in as a child that his parents sold when he moved out for college, the small apartment he had with his only girlfriend for a brief period of time after college which he lived in for less than nine months, and the house he currently lives in that he inherited from his parents' will. He doesn't count the on-campus college dorm rooms he stayed in during his college years.
Ryland really didn't want to have to go through the whole process of selling a house, but he was starting to see no other option. Not to mention, what in the world was he gonna do with Rocky? The robot wouldn't do very well in a cramped apartment given how he has a tendency to clamber around in unfamiliar places and he was used to roaming around outside in the large backyard connected to a dense forest, which he loved exploring and asking Ryland what something is every dang second. Ryland also realizes how strange it would be to see a man taking his accidentally sentient robot out for walks like a dog to other people. It took him a long time to adjust to that fact as well.
Ryland decides it's not worth stressing himself into an early grave over when he has to be up for work at five in the morning, so he gets ready for bed with Rocky following him around like a shadow the entire time. As he is walking down the hallway to his (and Rocky's now too) bedroom, the soft treading of Rocky walking suddenly ceased. Ryland turns around to see what has abruptly gotten Rocky's attention.
"What's wrong, pal?"
"Why does Grace never go into this room, question?"
"Well, that room is meant for guests to sleep in if they ever stay the night," Ryland explains as he walks over to open the door so Rocky could peer inside the room. He sticks his hand inside the doorframe and gropes around the wall until he finds the light switch. It was exactly the same as when he first moved in. He could never figure out a use for the bedroom, so he just left it as is. It was a pretty simplistic room with white paint and dark wood wainscoting on all of the walls, a queen-sized bed with patterned red bedding, a brown dresser and matching nightstands on either side of the bed, a bookshelf filled with various decoration that his parents probably couldn't find a better spot for in other parts of the house, a plain red chair in between the window and bookshelf, and finally—a thick layer of dust coating the entire room that is definitely worse than he remembers.
"Why Grace never have guests stay the night? Wouldn't Grace want to keep guests safe in own bedroom, question?"
"Well… that's because humans like sleeping separately. In most cases at least," he answers, purposefully avoiding the first question.
Rocky looks up at Ryland. "Grace is avoiding first question, statement," Rocky says nonchalantly.
"I-it's because I'm just very busy all the time. That's it," he coughs and looks away from Rocky. He swears he could feel Rocky glaring holes into his head, which is incredibly impressive for a being that doesn't have eyes in the traditional sense.
"Why doesn't Grace have someone move into room, question?"
"Well that's… wait a second…" Ryland thinks for a moment and then comes to a conclusion that would solve most of his problems. "Rocky! You're a genius!" The robot startles at Ryland's sudden shouting. Ryland abruptly changes direction and heads towards his office where his laptop resides.
"How does that make Rocky genius, question?" Rocky shouts (or as close as he can get to it with his monotonous voice) as he trails behind the human. Ryland beelines for his desk and practically tears his laptop open, his fingers mashing his password in at record speed.
"I can rent out that room to somebody and it'll help solve our money issues," he explains in a rushed tone.
"Rocky no understand word," he deadpans.
"It means to live in a room or house while paying someone for it. They're called roommates," he frantically searches all basics on renting out a room to someone including standard rent prices for his area (dear Lord, they were incredibly high), what the best website to make a listing was, all the boring legal jargon that definitely didn't go over his head, and everything else that was needed.
"So Grace get new mate, question?"
Ryland must have spontaneously contracted a respiratory infection with the way he suddenly doubles over in a coughing fit as his face heats up to temperatures that could rival the Sun. "What? Rocky, no, that's not what this is about," he sputters out in-between coughs.
"Then why called roommate, question?" Rocky asks inquisitively as Ryland's sudden respiratory issues slowly subside.
"Because mate usually has a connotation of being friendly. It's only really used to describe animals reproducing," he explains after taking a second to catch his breath.
"Is that not what Grace doing, question?"
"Not even close, bud," he sighs as he returns to his research. He decides that he will make a listing for his guest bedroom tomorrow after his shift at school. After he gets rid of the several layers of dust, that is.