When Francoise had found her son again, she wasn't expecting him to be with someone new. Someone who parented him and did their best to love him. But anyone important to her baby boy was important to her, so you were taken to the bunker with them. You were a kind soul who had taken Tyler in after he escaped Willow Hill, and your loving nature extended to Francoise.

She was beautiful, even when fifteen years of experiments and isolation had taken their toll on her. Sure, Francoise missed her husband dearly after learning he was dead. But you were far more understanding of the beast within than he was. And you were attentive to Tyler at the same time. You were perfect to keep.

Tyler was sound asleep, still recovering from his latest transformation. You were brushing her hair, braiding it behind her ears with deft fingers. As the teenager started to stir in the next room, Francoise got up.

"Morning, sleepyhead," she cooed. Her voice was always so quiet, as if being loud was forbidden. "Do you want pancakes? They used to be your favorite."

Tyler was still agitated, sitting up in a huff. "I'm not a baby anymore. You don't need to placate me--"

Francoise slapped him, drawing a gasp of shock from you. You'd known that her mind was still damaged from her time in Willow Hill, but you hadn't expected her to lash out so suddenly. Scrambling to your feet, you ran to Tyler's room to try and deescalate the situation.