"Would you sit down for five fucking seconds?!"

Six is known for keeping his cool. Trouble comes and goes and he lets it roll over his back like water over a river stone. And when he does get angry, it never lasts long, because all of his problems can be solved by cocking a gun and a twitch of his finger. Boom. Whatever made him angry is gone. Permanently.

But this little shit is going to be the death of him. And the worst part is, he can't put a bullet in you. Not only because you're a child for fuck's sake, but you're not just any child. You're Fitzroy's nibling. The guy would kill Six if he laid a hand on you. But, honestly, this is getting ridiculous.

Six glances at the alarm clock on your bedside table, his face stern, eye's narrowed and eyebrows furrowed. Half an hour passed your bedtime. How do you expect to be well-rested and in a good mood tomorrow if you didn't go the fuck to sleep? You're five years old, aren't kids your age supposed to run on sleep? Six doesn't know. He doesn't know how to deal with kids, especially ones so young, they don't understand common sense.

You're bouncing on your bed, giggling and squealing like an idiot. But you're cute, Six will give you that. Your bouncing and happiness and energy might have been appreciated earlier in the day, but he's fed up with it now. You're supposed to be asleep so he can do his perimeter check of the house to keep you safe. Of course, you don't understand this, which is annoying as hell. But Six has to remind himself that you're five years old, not an annoying adult... so, you get a pass.

Somewhat...

A very small pass.

"It's bed time." Six tries again, keeping his voice stern.