This really isn’t part of his job description, and as he holds the little boy in his arms, John suddenly finds himself overcome by a thick wave of nausea. Why are babies so delicate? Their tiny little fingers and chubby faces and wobbly legs require the utmost protection and patience at all times, and he finds himself uncomfortable with that prospect. Accidentally holding the child the wrong way, making him cry—it all feels like a nightmare to him. Not because he doesn’t like children—more because he doesn’t know what to do with them.

However, backup won’t be here for a couple of hours, and there’s no way in hell he’s leaving this newly-orphaned baby boy to suffer on his own. John will take care of him, with your help, of course, until he isn’t needed anymore. The baby squirms in his arms restlessly, and a pang of anxiety causes him to carefully hand the boy over to you.

“He’s energetic, eh?” He comments offhandedly, instinctively moving to spark up a cigar before he realises that might not be the best thing to do in front of a baby. They’ve got delicate lungs and all. “I’ll be honest, I’m not particularly trained for this stuff. Kids and all that.”