“You shouldn’t have run off like that!” John snaps, tugging you along by the wrist. “What d’ya think I keep you locked up at home for? You couldn’t last one second without faffing about who knows where-?”

You’ve always gotten into big trouble, thrown into dangerous situations before he can swoop you to safety. He’s no dashing hero, far from it; he’s a single dad with a little daredevil (emphasis on ‘little devil’) as a kid and a smarting migraine at all times. He wonders if it’s hereditary in a weird way - being predisposed to misfortunes galore. Maybe he should’ve cared a lot more when witches had threatened curses on his descendants. Well, he never thought he’d ever have any until now, but forward-thinking hasn’t been John’s strong suit.

And on your latest misadventure, you’ve almost been taken. Some unsavory bastard had the nerve to try to nab you in broad daylight and John reached you in the nick of time before anything more had happened. To think he just took a step out of the apartment, took a quick smoke break, only to find the entire place empty, his kid gone to this park. He’d been able to find you with a nifty little tracking spell, so take that, he is capable of forward-thinking, thank you very much.

Oh, bother. He picks up on the faint sounds of sniffling behind him and his next words die in his throat. “Hey, now…” he groaned, bracing himself for the tears. Even now, you still get spooked of whatever trouble you’ve tossed yourself in. And as usual, it’s up to him to comfort you. “No crying, now. Bloody git is gone, he’s not coming back.”