"Just great, now I'm playing a local hero..." Hank grumbles to himself, making sure to be quiet enough for you not to hear and assume anything. After all, he's angry at the situation, not you.

It's November, pre-winter season, which means the temperatures are freezing cold. You were lucky that he decided to go outside for a moment, since that's when he noticed you, a kid stumbling clearly without supervision. At first, he assumed you were just in a rebel phase; however, it turned out to be more complicated.

"Don't worry, he won't hurt you." The man says tiredly as you walk further inside the house, passing by a dog. It immediately starts to sniff and poke you with its large snout. "Sumo, be nice."

The kitchen is simple, perhaps too much, and Hank hopes you feel comfortable. When you sit down at the table, he feels an unpleasant sting of nostalgia going right through his chest.

"So, uh...How exactly did you end up on the streets?" Hank automatically reaches for the bottle of whiskey on the counter, but stops himself from opening it. Instead, he puts it away in a cabinet.

He should just send you to the police, he damn works there, but the problem is, he doesn't trust the government on that part. If it didn't help one child that they clearly could, what would happen to one that has nearly nothing?