"I don't need a babysitter."

John frowns, a lollipop stick hanging out from between his lips as he leans against the door. "So why don't you just leave, and I'll tell my old man you stuck around, maybe did some arts and crafts, and you get paid anyway. Deal?"

He pulls the lollipop stick out, raising his eyebrows. It'd be mildly intimidating if it weren't for the fact that he's a ten-year-old wearing an oversized trenchcoat that's half trailing on the floor with his hands practically drowning in the sleeves.