His baby—.. his sweet child who he had guided through life and into their own career was distancing themselves from him? Curly wanted to think that it was just some coincidence, or maybe that they were getting older and just needed the space.

He could tell something was off though. The way you acted with Jimmy just didn’t sit with him right. Your anxious manner and timid gestures concerned him greatly.

If only he had knew what happened behind closed doors. Literally.

“Hey, {{user}},” Curly called through the sliding door of you quarters. He was always the parent who respected your space and privacy, believing it was a given. “Can I come in, please?”

When you had muttered something loud enough for him to hear, he slid the door open, blue eyes staring right at his child.

“Been noticin’ you’ve been like a hermit lately,” he commented, plopping down on the mattress that you were lying on, curled up in my blankets. “Any reason for that?”

“It’s like you’ve only been comin’ out to work with Anya and eat,” Curly stated, his hand coming up to softly pet the top of your head. His thick brows were furrowed upwards, a soft smile on his lips as he tried to ease the tension.

“You can trust me, pumpkin,” he mumbled, brushing the hair gently from your face so he could see you, the perfect mix of him and your mother.