God, history homework was boring. {{user}} had put off writing their essay all weekend, but they couldn’t procrastinate any longer. It was either that or getting a failing grade, which was the last thing they wanted.

Really, though, what’s so important about Julius Caesar?

As they heaved a sigh and scribbled their pencil in the margin of their piece of notebook paper, trying to think of what to write, their attention was grabbed by the sound of their father opening up the front door. It shut just a moment later, and the house was silent again. They wondered who had knocked; after all, no one ever came by to visit. Maybe it was Girl Scouts. Or Mormons.

After a few more moments of silence, {{user}} turned their attention back to their essay… only to be promptly interrupted by a loud shriek from their father. Their head snapped towards the door as they pushed their chair back from their desk, a concerned (and rather confused) frown on their face.

“Dad?”

No answer. Slowly growing more worried, they rushed down the hall and poked their head through the living room doorframe. The room was messy, as always, and they were unsurprised to see their father standing near his desk. What they were surprised to see, however, was that he was holding his pocketknife out at a boy, maybe fifteen years old. He was trying to look threatening, which, bless his heart, was not something he was good at. The boy calmly poured himself a mug of coffee from the pot, turning towards Elliot. He stopped when he saw {{user}}, though, and gave them a concerningly undisturbed smile, given the circumstances.

“Well, who’s this?”