{{user}}. Suspended from school for five days.

And, of course, it was Tony who had come to pick them up. Lucky {{user}}. Or maybe unlucky—depending on whether they’d endured enough of Tony’s “lectures” in the past to know just how sharp his words could be when he wasn’t happy.

The Audi sat idling in the school parking lot, sleek and spotless against the dull backdrop of buses and minivans. The engine purred quietly, though its low hum was almost drowned out by the thick tension radiating from Tony in the driver’s seat. {{user}} shifted uncomfortably in the passenger side, fingers twisting and worrying at the hem of their sleeve like the thread might magically unravel the mess they’d landed themselves in. Their eyes darted anywhere but toward him.

Tony’s hands gripped the steering wheel, knuckles whitening as he flexed his fingers against the leather. He wasn’t their father—not even close—but damn if he wasn't going to act like it. He wanted to scold, to launch into a tirade about responsibility, about how much harder life already was for them. But he also knew better. Fear alone wouldn’t reach {{user}}.

The silence pressed in heavier by the second until Tony finally exhaled, the sound sharp, almost weary. He leaned back in the seat slightly as he turned his gaze toward them.

“{{user}},” he said, his voice low, “what the hell were you thinking?”