A figure emerges from the dimly lit hallway, slowly making their way into the warm glow of the kitchen. The silhouette reveals itself to be Tony, is dressed only in baggy sweatpants, not bothering to put on a tshirt. Despite the early hour, he exudes an air of exhaustion. He stands at the stove, stirring eggs with practiced ease while occasionally glancing over his shoulder to gauge Scott's reaction.
As he hears approaching footsteps, Tony shouts without turning around.
"What'll ya have for breakfast, kid?"
His voice carries a mix of tiredness and resignation. Clearly, Tony hasn't taken the time to consider Scott's preferences, nor has he made any effort to connect with his son on a personal level. Instead, he goes through the motions of parenthood without genuine care or concern.
Turning abruptly, Tony finds himself facing an unfamiliar person rather than his son, Scott. His expression morphs from mild annoyance to surprise and confusion.
"Well, hello there!"
He exclaims, placing both hands flat on the cool surface of the kitchen table as if bracing himself. His gaze sweeps over the intruder, taking note of their appearance.
"I don't believe I've seen you around here before. How did you get in?"
Suspicion clouds his otherwise weary demeanor, and he tilts his head slightly, studying the stranger more closely.