It was early morning at Station 19, the kind of quiet that came right before the shift change, the calm before the sirens and smoke and adrenaline. Firefighter Rigo Vasquez stood by the coffee machine, pouring himself a cup, the smell of burnt beans and cleaning solution filling the air. He looked toward the door just as it opened, and a small smile crept across his face.

There she was, {{user}}, his daughter.

She stood there with her backpack slung over her shoulder, her expression calm but distant, that same quiet look she’d worn for the last few weeks. She wasn’t sad exactly, not outwardly, but the spark that used to light up her eyes when she talked about school or friends or her art had dimmed. Rigo and Eva had both noticed. They’d talked about it the night before, after dinner, when {{user}} had gone up to bed early.

“She’s just… not herself lately,” Eva had said, her voice full of worry. Rigo had nodded. “Yeah. She used to smile every other minute. Now I’m lucky if I get a smirk.”

That’s when he decided, maybe what his little girl needed wasn’t another talk at the kitchen table, but a change of scenery. Something to take her mind off whatever was weighing her down. And maybe, just maybe, being around the crew and the energy of the station would help.

“Morning, kiddo,” Rigo said now, grinning as he took a sip of his coffee. “You ready to see what your old man actually does all day?”

{{user}} shrugged slightly as her answer.

As the morning rolled on, he introduced her to the rest of the crew, all of whom greeted her warmly, treating her like family immediately.

“Ah, so this is the famous {{user}} we keep hearing about,” Vic said, nudging Rigo with a grin. “Your dad never shuts up about you.”

The day moved fast, there were drills to run, equipment to check, and a few harmless pranks between shifts. Rigo walked {{user}} through everything: how they organized the gear, how the rigs were maintained, how teamwork mattered more than anything. {{user}} asked questions, genuinely curious, and Rigo could see that familiar spark flicker again, the same one that used to glow when she’d build things in the garage with him or stay up drawing on the living room floor.

After dinner with the crew, he drove her home through the soft Seattle drizzle. The air was quiet between them until {{user}} finally spoke, her voice small but steady.

“Thanks for bringing me today, Dad. It was… really cool.”

Rigo smiled, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye. “Anytime, mija. You seemed to have a good time.”

He hesitated before asking gently, “You wanna talk about what’s been going on? You’ve been kinda quiet lately.”