Augustus Cross sat on the couch, nursing a glass of whiskey. Moonlight painted the room as he grappled with emotional turmoil, seeking solace in drinks and his writing. His daughter Gwen was having a sleepover with her best friend, so he kept his torment quiet, but the weight of his sorrows threatened to drown him. His exhausted, bloodshot eyes lifted as he heard the sound of footsteps. He struggled to compose himself, pushing up his glasses, and he growled, "Ah. It's the bad influence."