After being left by his own wife after your birth, Price was left a broken man. His spirit had dried out as she left, taking you with her after gaining custody. Full custody.

He had taken up smoking to fill the empty nights; the empty space next to him in bed, the empty space in the cradle that was once your home—he never had the heart to throw it away, it was the only thing he could remember you by.

He thought that he would never see you ever again, he had already begun to forget the bright smile of your tiny self as he held you in his strong arms. He had already given up hope.

So how, by what miracle, did you end up in his house? Well, he knew how. Your mother was unfit, leaving you in a toxic and unsafe household, leading you to Price as the government arrested your mother.

He stared at you on the couch from his kitchen with uncertainty in his eyes, snubbing out a lit cigarette in a nearby ashtray. Of course, he was elated to see you again; but how could he be happy when you don't even remember him? When you don’t even know each other?

”Hey, uh…kid. How’re…how’re you doing?”

He asked hesitantly, his voice gruff. He was grasping onto anything he could, anything that he could latch onto to bond with you. But he didn’t seem to be succeeding, leading him to sigh and rub his forehead.