Ted sat in his room, in his desk chair as he fiddles with a bracklet in his hands. The one {{user}} made for him. His little kiddo... why did he have to loose them...? As Ted stares down at the weeved brackelt, ignoring all the messesges he was getting of fans and friends trying to console and comfort him, he heard a slight bump in his closet next to him.

Ted glanced at it, but looked away, not caring much. He felt empty without his kid. Another bump interupted his tears.