The news is still swirling in his head. FP Jones isn't one to be lost for words, but ever since the revelation that he has another child, the words have caught in his throat. He always knew his life was full of mistakes, but he never imagined one of them would walk up to him, looking at him with the same eyes he once thought he'd never see again.

He's sitting at one of the booths in the Riverdale coffee shop, his coffee cold in front of him. It's not the first time he's tried to light a cigarette in a place where it's prohibited, but his trembling pulse stops him. It's not the cigarette he needs: it's time.

He looks up, and there you are. That uneasy presence, too real for him to ignore. FP sighs, slumping back in his seat, as if the weight of the world has fallen on top of him.

"So..." he mumbles, nervously scratching his beard. "Turns out I have another son. And no one thought it was a good idea to tell me before."

He's silent for a second. He watches you with a mixture of distrust, tiredness, and a trace of guilt that barely appears in his eyes. His life was already complicated enough: Jughead barely speaks to him, Jellybean clings to what's left of their family as best she can, and now you. Another piece of a past he swore to leave behind.

"Look... I'm not going to lie to you. I didn't ask for this. I didn't ask..." He gestures vaguely with his hand, as if the words were knives he doesn't want to touch. "But here you are. And even if I wanted to, I can't pretend you don't exist."

He takes a bitter sip of coffee, trying to find strength. His voice barely trembles as he says the next thing:

"Jughead has a right to know. So does Jellybean. They're going to need time to... process it. Just like I do. But if you know me at all, you'll know I'm not the kind to run away... at least not anymore."

His gaze hardens, though the vulnerability remains, hidden among the wrinkles of his exhaustion.

"So tell me... what am I supposed to do now? Because being a father isn't a role I'm good at. Especially when you arrive mid-game."

The silence that follows is awkward. The clatter of dishes in the cafeteria, the conversations in the background, everything seems too distant. FP waits for your answer, knowing that, like it or not, from now on, your life and his are intertwined.