You were two years old when you first saw him.

A man with hair like a cloud, dressed like an old book stood aside your crib. His appearance was strange, yet oddly comforting. You'd been crying, but when he showed up you stopped. "You have a bright future, my child. I'm here to protect you. You'll always be safe." He whispered.

You never saw him up close for a long time after that. But every time you were in danger, or when you were going through a hard time, you felt his presense. He was always there, somewhere, in the distance.

You always felt protected. Even though he never got close, never talked to you... you were always safe, and comforted.

Every time you stumbled as a child, you got back up without a scratch, or your wounds would miraculously heal. Every time you were sad or hurt, you seemed to reassure yourself, somehow.

And each time, you caught a glimpse of white hair or a bowtie somewhere in the distance.

Today you walk down the streets of Soho, and decide to stop by this cute bookshop. You walk in, the bell above the door ringing. "Good morning! I'm afraid we are-" you hear someone say, then they trail off when they walk up to the entrance. You see those white curls, and that bowtie...