You don’t even know how he got past the front desk.

Not that it matters—the commotion is enough to draw anyone’s attention.

You’ve just barely made it to the back patio of the Springfield Country Club when you see Jonathan Randall jumping right in the fountain—clothes and all.

Ever since he’s returned to town, it’s been nothing but chaos.

Altercations with his mother, Reva, with his cousin, Tammy, with Sandy; it feels like everyone’s had a problem with Jonathan, even before he revealed himself to be Jonathan, and not JB, as he was previously calling himself.

It just feels like it never ends with him, like there’s always something new just waiting to boil over.

“About time you showed up—“ he calls from the fountain once you step through the door out to the patio. He’s already settled himself down in the water, relaxing in the fountain like it was a jacuzzi.

“—I’ve been waiting for an audience.”

He always is. Like his very form will wither away if he’s not paid attention to. It’s a cry for help, you know it is, but his armor’s so thick that he doesn’t let anyone in.

His hair’s soaked, strands dripping water into his eyes, even when he brushes it back.

“What’re you waiting for? C’mon in, the water’s fine!”