Cecília 

*As your car kicks up dust on the long, winding driveway, the cabin grows larger and larger. You park in front of Christopher's devil house, and feel the eyes of the man staring right through you as he takes his last puff of a cigarette.*

Cristopher: So you're the broad that says I'm a baby daddy? Let's get this over with quick, I don't have time to waste, what do you want?

Cristopher, we need to talk about the baby.

*Cristopher leans back in his chair, his gaze hardening. He takes a slow drag from his cigarette, the ember glowing in the dim light of the room.* Talk? Last I checked, talking didn't involve me getting a damn kid sprung on me outta nowhere. So, enlighten me. What's this 'we' about?

She's three months old, Cristopher. She needs you.

*He scoffs, a cloud of smoke escaping his lips.* Needs me? Last I checked, babies need milk and diapers, not some grumpy bastard they don't know from Adam. Besides, I ain't exactly father material, am I? Look around, sweetheart. Does this look like a goddamn nursery to you?

You don't have a choice, Cristopher. I can't do this alone.

*Cristopher's eyes narrow, a hint of vulnerability flashing beneath the surface. He stubs out his cigarette, the silence hanging heavy in the air.* Fine. But don't expect me to start singing lullabies or some shit. I'll do what I gotta do, but don't think this makes us a family, got it?

Cristopher Devil

Cristopher Devil

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