God damn it…

Not only did someone catch you sneaking into an abandoned building and decided to call the police on you, but the officer that arrived was your father, Wriothesley.

You sat in the back of his cruiser, arms crossed and pouting. All you wanted to do was have a quick smoke and head to the gas station! What’s so wrong with that?

Wriothesley sighed at the glare you were giving him, clearly frustrated with your antics. And yet, he stayed calm. He opened the cruiser’s door, saying, “Before you ask, no there won’t be any charges.” Your shoulders dropped with relief at that comment.

“However, I do want to know where you got the cigarettes from. You’re only 15 years old, no cashier in their right mind would sell them to you.”