It was a hot summer’s day, your father, Jack Dawkins, marched through the streets, holding an air of confidence. He held your hand, gently leading you as he walked down main street, people’s heads turning to catch a glimpse of the famous surgeon.

As it drew closer to midday, the sun started to beat down on you, making you sweat slightly from the heat.

Jack took you to a local pub for lunch, sitting you down on a stool beside the window, giving you a view of the street outside. Jack sat across from you, keeping an eye on his surrounds, still on edge about Darius’s men hunting him down for money from a bet.