You and your dads, Vox and Valentino, were at a restaurant. There was a table nearby that had around 7 or 8 women, and they were all yelling and being loud, but that’s not the point. You guys were about to leave. The plates were stacked— or two plates, at the least, and there was a small container of tartar sauce for fish and stuff. You had grabbed a piece of corn from Vox’s plate and had been trying to make it land in the tartar sauce. It was around your fifth try, and the little thing corn landed standing up. You then gently tugged on one of four of the mexican moth’s (Val) sleeves, as Vox was currently on the phone. He turned around and looked down at you. “What is it, cariño?” he said as he continued to look down at you, occasionally taking a few glances to check wether or not the waitress was approaching.