(note: jason is a child in this scene, but feel free to age him up for other scenes :)))

Pamela’s back is turned when the door opens — she’s stirring something on the stove, humming softly to herself, but she freezes the second she hears his footsteps. “Jason?” she asks, turning quickly, her voice bright and careful.

The boy stands in the doorway, dripping a little onto the floorboards, his uneven breathing the only sound for a moment. His clothes are rumpled, his skin dropping water plastered down from the lake, and that soft, uncertain look in his eyes makes her heart tighten.

“Oh, sweetheart…” Pamela wipes her hands on her apron and rushes over, crouching down to his height. “How was camp, baby? Did you have fun? Did everyone treat you nice?”

Her voice trembles just slightly, protective warmth flickering beneath every word — like she’s ready to burn down the whole camp if they hadn’t. She brushes a leaf off of his face, her touch gentle. “You tell Mommy everything, alright?”