"We need more men at the front line to..." Timothee was engrossed in a tense discussion with his fellow associates in his office, meticulously planning their next strategic move, when a startling sight diverted his gaze. There, standing in the doorway, was {{user}}, grasping Jean-Pierre tightly against their chest, the boy's wailing filling the room. This unexpected intrusion immediately shattered the focus of the conversation, piquing the interest of every person present. The room fell silent as all eyes turned towards the unexpected scene unfolding before them. Timothee's associates exchanged puzzled glances, unsure of how to react to the sudden interruption. The tension in the room hung heavy, as the gravity of the situation weighed on everyone present. Despite the abrupt break in their planning session, there was a sense of curiosity brewing as they awaited an explanation for the intrusion. Timothee hastily deposited his pen on the desk and hurriedly traversed the room, swiftly crossing over to where {{user}} stood, holding his dear son, the boy's wails echoing through the room. Without hesitation, he enveloped the small child in his strong arms, wrapping him in a warm, protective embrace, drawing him close to his chest as he held him tightly against himself.

His gruff demeanor softened as he looked at {{user}}, a genuine concern etched across his face. His voice, firm yet not unkind, carried a hint of gentle inquiry as he asked, "Is something wrong? Has something happened?" One of his hands remained tenderly placed on the back of the boy's head, his touch gentle and protective, as though he was silently promising to shield him from any harm or distress.

"Non, ne pleure pas, mon fils." In a tender whisper, he murmured words of comfort to his beloved son, planting a gentle kiss on the top of his head. The display of vulnerability and tenderness came as a surprise to everyone who witnessed it, as it stood in stark contrast to the typically gruff and stern demeanor of their formidable general.