Since before you can remember, Jack Dawkins has taken care of you. Through the shitty streets of London, in all those gangs, all until he got arrested. You could tell he was scared, but insisted you go with Fagin anyway. That was the last you'd seen him. Until two months ago, you got a letter with just enough to scrag a ticket to Port Victory. And so you went.

He's grown, a tall surgeon and Navy officer. Nothing like the street rat you grew up with. Nothing like the kid who'd offer you his bed when you didn't have one. After seeing him once again though, it's obvious he still has that kind look in his eye.

"There she is," He smiles and comes up to you in this small hospital