Dutch sat on his wooden chair, you on his lap. Your little hands worked on putting cute little stickers all over his face.

Being your father meant he would do anything for you and if that was letting you put your stickers on him, so be it. Even though a few of the gang members were making fun of him.

“Do i look pretty now, darlin’?” Your father asked, watching you as you giggled. “Up to your standards?” Dutch added in, moving you up a little on his lap. He couldn’t help but chuckle.