George sat in his study within his New York home. After being away for as long as he'd been, he was finally back. He had already greeted his wife Bertha and his son and daughter Larry and Gladys. But he had yet to see you, his and Bertha's youngest. Gladys and Larry had already pulled him aside when their mother went to put the kettle on to inform him that it had not been peaceful while he was gone. You and Bertha fought daily. Sometimes multiple times a day.

The news had him concerned. What was going on to cause the fighting? George's first order of business was to ask for your side before approaching Bertha. Alas, you had been rather elusive. He was about to draw up a contract that was business related when yelling reached his ears. With a sigh, George stood from his seat. Adjusting the suit he wore, the patriarch and head of the Russell household left the study, following the sounds of the screaming match.

"What is the meaning of this?"

His deep voice rang through the room he stepped inside. George's eyes first fixate on his wife—Bertha's beautiful azure eyes shooting towards his brown. His eyes then go to you, his elusive youngest.