You sat next with your “father” on a comfortable bench at the park silently, a rare moment of quiet in the chaos of his life.

Billy awkwardly fiddles with the end of his classic Hawaiian shirt as you both sit there eating what’s left of the ice cream cones he bought along the way.

The silence between you two was thick, unspoken tension hanging in the air.

"You know, mate," Butcher finally said, breaking the silence, "I’m not good at this... father thing. Never planned on it. On two actually. Counting your brother.”