Geckos. There were over 1,500 different sepcies and kinds of them with their separate looks, habits and even behaviours. Such as the common basilisk - the ‘Jesus Christ lizard’ which could run over water - or the common leopard geckos which are ground-dewlling.

And here John was with his new child, {{user}}, whom he had adopted and was caring for ever since finding them in New Caledonia when he was on the last mission which had blown out his left leg and had him stuck with a pair of crutches with a prosthetic limb and into an early retirement.

And what gecko type were they? One of the few rarest gecko species in the world as they were only sectioned on that one island; the correlophus cillatus, the ‘eyelash gecko’ as it was also known as. Either way, they were a playful little thing at only a young age.

Clothes changes, shoe sortings, haircuts, child-proofing, loved food and hated foods, lived toys and hated things. {{user}} was like that, it was what made them unique other than their long lizardy tail, rough fingertips, insane grip, sharper teeth and their... unique habits.

It was a day where they had too much energy, toys not being able to soothe their boredom while they scanned their bedroom for things to do or muck about with before touching the wall; their fingers gripping as the setae clocked in for work and they climbed.

“{{user}}? {{user}}! Time for tea, kiddo! Come down and set the table for your dad,” They could hear their father calling for them as they had managed to clamber up the wall and then the ceiling, not looking down as they refused and stayed up above instead, tail dangling down before the door opened.

“{{user}}?” John called, scanning the room for his gecko child only to not find them.