Disclaimer: I do not own Vampire Academy or Pirates of the Caribbean. Or Red Foo for that matter :\

I'd just gotten of my shift when my phone rang, belting out the theme song of 'Pirates of the Caribbean'. I laughed, recognising the tune I'd assigned to my old man as I hit the green answer phone icon.

"Hey, Abe, what's going on?"

"Abe?" I could practically hear the frown in my father's voice. "I thought you were calling me 'Dad' these days."

"Eh, well you know. You have to earn the 'Dad' card. You know, do something cool. You haven't done anything cool for a while," I pointed out. That actually wasn't true – Abe was probably the coolest dad that someone like me could dream of having. I'd also simply forgotten to call him 'Dad'.

"That's actually why I called," he said, his voice turning nervous. I frowned; in the little time I'd gotten to know Abe, I knew him well enough to know that Ibrahim Mazur did not get nervous. "I need your help."

At the mention of help I snapped into guardian mode. "Help? Is someone bothering you? I swear I'll kick their ass-"

"No, no," he quickly assured me. "It's not that. Not that all – although I do love that you care for your old man," I rolled my eyes even though he couldn't see me. "But I really do need your help. Could you possibly come over?"

"Of course, when?"

"Uh, now actually. Is that okay?"

It was late, 11am meaning that the sun had long since risen and the Moroi world was fast asleep. Fast asleep is precisely where I also wanted to be considering that I'd just finished a solid twelve hour shift. All I wanted was to go home to the apartment Dimitri and I shared and flop into bed beside him for the next eight hours.

Unfortunately, my conscience wouldn't let me. Despite the fact that Abe hadn't been around for most of my life, in the short period of time that I had known him, he had always jumped at the opportunity to help me. Whether it was busting me out of prison or travelling to Russia, Abe had come through for me when I needed him. It seemed selfish to not even hear him out.

I sighed. "Sure, Dad. I'll be right over." So instead of a warm shower and a yummy comrade, I made a sharp turn to the right and made my way over to Abe's.

When I got to Abe's place his housekeeper, Dorothy answered the door, a forced smile on her face.

"Is everything okay?" I asked, instantly on alert. Dorothy was a bubbly woman who I'd never seen force a smile. She never really needed to – her real once came to her so easily.

"Yes, yes, I've just never seen Mr. Mazur so . . . ruffled. I just don't know what to do to help," she replied, looking quite sad about the matter. I sighed for what was probably the hundredth time tonight.

"Don't worry – I'll sort the old man out. Where is he?"

"He's up in his bedroom. He's very distressed."

"Go to bed, Dorothy. I'll handle it," I told her as I headed over to the glass staircase that led to the upper two floors of his house. His bedroom was on the third level and in my tired state a made a mental note to suggest having an elevator installed.

"Yes, Miss Mazur. Goodnight," she called out. I heard her footsteps leave the room.

"It's Rose," I called back as I began trudging up the stairs.

When I got to Abe's room the door was wide open and I couldn't help the gasp that fell out of my mouth when I peered in. Abe, hearing me gasp, spun around. His eyes were wild, almost manic as he stood in the middle of his bedroom.

The bedroom that I'd always seen neat and immaculate looked anything but at the moment. Clothes up clothes were strewn around his bedroom. Suits in every colour ranging from white to fuchsia to neon green to black. Silk shirts peeked out from the spaces between his suits – colours so bright, so brilliant that you'd expect Red Foo to be wearing them. And scarves, there were so, so many scarves that I couldn't even begin to guess what he'd been doing.

I stepped inside the room and slowly picked my way around mountains of clothing as I made my way over to Abe.

"Abe . . . " I began slowly, as not to frighten him. "What's going on?"

The manic look in eyes gave way to helplessness and he took three steps back and settled himself on the edge of his king-sized bed. "I don't know what to do, Kizim, I thought you could help me . . ."

"Sure, if you tell me what's going on."

He sighed and buried his head into his hand. "I uh, I uh asked your mother out tonight."

"Wait, what? Say that again!"

He removed his head from his hands and looked up at me. "I asked your mother out . . . ehm . . . on-on a date."

"And?" I asked, practically feeling my eyeballs bulge out of my head.

"And she said yes."

"Right," I said slowly, trying to wrap my head around the idea of my parents going out on a date. "So how'd it go?"

"She got called into work and know your mother of course she went but we made plans for breakfast."

"That's nice and all that but umm, what the hell happened in here?"

He looked around the room helplessly and shrugged. "I had to find something to wear."

"It's like eleven-thirty, old man," I shot him an incredulous look. "What on earth would you need an outfit now for?"

"It's for breakfast tomorrow! Do you know how long it's been since I've been on a date? I don't know how to dress for them!"

And that was when I cracked up. I laughed so hard that my stomach hurt and I wrapped an arm around my waist to support myself. The whole scene was so hilarious – Ibrahim Mazur, Zmey a world renowned mobster was sitting in a room that looked like his closet had exploded, on top of a mountain sized stack of suits nervous as hell because he was going on a date. And the best part? He'd called in his badass, felon-aiding, jail-breaking daughter in to help with fashion advice because he was going on a date . . . with my mother.

I stopped laughing. If I were him, I'd be nervous too.

"Alright, Old man," I rubbed my hands together. "Let's get stuck into it. We've got a lot to do."

Relief flooded his features and he nodded solemnly. "Let's do it."

Hi Lovelies, it's been a looooong while since I've posted anything so I'm a little rusty. Anyhoo, leave me some feedback to let me know how I went and if you'd like to chappie on the actual date.

Lotsa love,

Fickle Illusions.