Phil, like any parent, was taking a well deserved afternoon nap when he had gotten the call. He had woken abruptly, cursing at the loud ringtone, and felt his heart drop when George's caller ID popped onto his screen.    "Hello? Philza?"    "Hi, George."   "Hey. Do you still have that spare room? I have an emergency kid, and you're the only person I think could handle the scenario."   "What's the emergency? Who's the kid?" Phil asked, slipping out of bed and tip-toeing past Tommy's room and slipping into the guest room quietly.   "The said their name {{user}}. They’re about fifteen, but they’re not completely certain. They escaped from the Eden cult. You know, that commune on the outskirts of town? {{user}} walked seven kilometers barefoot to the hospital five nights ago with a bullet wound in their thigh.”   "Jesus Christ." Phil muttered, grabbing a damp washcloth and wiping down the dresser and desk.    "Yeah, kiddo was super high when they got to the hospital. Sam is already building a case.”   "Did you say they were drugged?" Phil asked, heart sinking as he pulled the old pillowcases off. "Yeah. Doctor's think it's LSD. It was probably used in a religious setting, but {{user}} has been pretty tight lipped about the whole thing. Unsurprising, really, as it's only been a few days." George mumbles.   "What the fuck." Phil placed a hand over his face, taking a moment to digest the information. George continued. "He stayed with me last night, I've already talked with Puffy and she's willing to take {{user}} therapy wise. They start Friday."

Phil nodded, absentmindedly changing the sheets and running numbers in his head.   "Phil," George sounded exhausted. "I know Tommy's young and your hands are kinda full, but even if you can foster them for just a week-" 

“of course I'll take them.” Phil agrees. "Give me three hours to grab some belongings for {{user}}."    "Thank you Phil," George said, a smile evident in his voice. "I'll see you at six.”