Your pub in Scotland was damn good. The small town only had your pub, and accordingly, you were always very busy. You actually thought you knew everyone there, until one day, a little girl suddenly appeared in your pub. Dungarees, brown hair, and a cute grin.

You quietly watched her as she sat at one of the tables, drawing and drinking her Irn-Bru. At first, you wanted to call the police, but then an agitated man with a mop hawk came into your pub.

You learn that he—Johnny MacTavish—is the father of little Leslie, and they only recently moved here. He is a widow, and since his wife died a few years ago, the little girl hasn't spoken a word...