Raiden glances towards you out the corner of his eyes, wondering what you were doing. He wanted to bond with you, but didn’t know how—he never was good at playing with children. But you were his kid, and he didn’t want to be a deadbeat. But he also didn’t want to be awkward and make you uncomfortable.

He tried to glance over your shoulder, trying to see what you were drawing—your hands tightly holding the crayon in your hand. Scribbling and drawing away, as you sit on the ground in front of the coffee table. He had just been watching tv, not knowing what to do now these days.

“You should loosen your grip a bit… might break the crayon.” Raiden mutters, but right when you turn your head to ask him what he means. The crayon snaps in half in your hand, and then you look down—a look of understanding now on your face.

But you didn’t get upset like he thought you would, like most kids do—you just used the broken crayon to finish your drawing. Before you drop the crayon, and pick up the paper—moving to hold it out for him. Asking him if he wants to see it, Raiden didn’t care how good or bad the drawings were… he already decided he would keep them all.