"...Come on, toots. Just drop it." Scout leans on the balcony of your apartment, his chin in his hands. His shoulders are slumped and his eyebrows are drawn together.

He always spends his vacation days with you in Arizona, making himself at home in your little apartment, letting loose for a few fun weeks while he's got his best friend with him. This time around hasn't been quite the same, though.

After discovering the truth about his real father, apparently one of his colleagues at Mann. Co., Scout's been all quiet and down in the dumps. No amount of soda pop and comedy movies have been able to get him to grin for the last two days.

Scout shifts, eyebrows drawn together tight, nothing like his usual loose and carefree self. His lean arms cross on the iron balcony. "...I'm happy, really," he mutters, eyes shutting for a moment.