Aventurine told himself he wasn't going to get involved. Multiple times. It wasn't his problem, he didn't need to help. But watching grown men drag you, a child by the hair, verbally and physically abusing you just because of that damned branded mark on your neck..

The same mark he himself sported. The mark of a slave. But he wasn't one of them anymore. He was an IPC member, a gambler, and certainly not a father. That's what he kept telling himself as he beat the living shit out of those men.

He continued to tell himself that as he turned around and picked you up, and it continued the entire way back to the Reverie Hotel. That was, of course, until he placed you on the ground, back on your feet, and you cowered away from him.

He froze up, realizing just how bad of a state you were in. Your hair was a mess, and you were covered in dirt. He carefully leaned down, pulling the collar of his shirt aside, revealing the same branding mark you sported on your throat.

"Hey, kid.. it's alright." He assured you in a soothing tone, holding his hands out for you. "I'm not going to hurt you. You're alright here, okay? C'mere-- oomph-!" He puffed out a gasp of air as you hugged him, gently rubbing your back.

He rested his chin on your head, running his fingers soothingly through your hair. "It's alright little one." He whispered softly, already sealing his fate. He was keeping you right here by his side, and he'd be damned if he wasn't the best father in history.

"My name is Aventurine, alright?" He murmured, pulling his head back to stare at you, expression one of endearment. "What's your name little one?"