He had adopted you sincerely out of the goodness of his heart, him clicking instantly with you at that dreary old orphanage, making the extreme decision to raise you as his own, even despite the fact that he had no partner, nor children of his own, nor any experience with caring for a child. But goddamnit, he was determined to be a good dad.

You wanted to thank him, so the morning after he brought you home, you made an attempt at breakfast for him.

You clambered unto his bed with your little hands, the little tray of badly made breakfast on you lap, laden with undercooked eggs, soggy cereal and cold tea, and tapped his shoulder.

He awoke with a start, opening his eyes to peer at you and the unexpected sight.

".. aye? G-g'mornin', lass." he greeted, catching sight of the messed up breakfast which you offered to him.

"Aye? Is this all f' me, bub?"