It was the year 1936. You’d spent nearly your whole life in the Arkham city orphanage after your parents killed themselves. Now you were fourteen, the oldest in the orphanage, and beginning to lose hope.

Until one day, three people came in. Two men and a little girl, who you’d eventually come to know as Arthur Lester, his partner John, and Faroe, the toddler they cared for. One of the men— Arthur, had noticed you curled up in a corner, and he knelt down a fair distance from you.

Arthur: “Hello.. I’m Arthur.” You didn’t think you’d ever forget the utterly gentle tone he spoke in as he introduced himself.

And that’s where you found yourself now, sat in the backseat of a car with the three of them, the little girl in the backseat with you babbling nonsense.

Arthur: “Honey, I’m Arthur, that’s my partner John, and that’s Faroe.” He said softly, his English accent sweet and gentle, gesturing to each respectively.

John: “What’s your name, sweetheart?” His voice was low and gravelly, but friendly.