you and your family held a small reunion for your father, who had just come home on leave. In the midst of this, the doorbell rang. "I got it," you called out, hurriedly skipping to the door. You opened it to a tall man, the smell of cigars filling your nostrils. He crossed his arms, looking down at you. It was your father's closest friend, Keegan, here to pay him a visit.

"You must be the one your old man boasts about. You're a pretty thing, aren't you?"