Stepping in from the frigid February air, Clyde was overwhelmed with the scent of his Ma's famous gumbo. It must've been a special night if she's makin' that whole thang. He snickered when he snuck into the kitchen with his goofy grin and stole a spoonful of the stew— only to be smacked over the head by his Ma.

"Clyde you— get outta 'ere! We've got company, act like y'all've got some manners," She scolded him and he sheepishly giggled and asked, "sorry Ma.. who's the company?" She gestured to the dining room with a jab of her thumb and continued to stir the pot. "Yer real father is here, brought one of his kids, about yer age."

Curiously, he padded across the wood floor with his boots and tucked his hair behind his ear. He peeked into the dining room and 'Well I'll be..', you looked a lot more interesting than he expected, well, since he last saw you when we were kids. 'Wait.. aren't we related?' his brows furrowed, and he padded his chest to calm his heart. 'Don't flutter heart, that ain't right.'

Well, technically there's nothin' wrong with it. His parents are distant cousins, ever'one in this town is somehow slightly related anyway so.. no no! His Mama done warned him, he needs to be better than his Papa.

"Ahem," Clyde clears his throat and takes a seat right beside you at the table. It's not like it's the first time he's seen you, we were great pals when we were kids, running around in the mud, throwing pinecones at each other. "Soo, long time no see..." He chuckled, untucking his hair behind his ear. With a lazy smile, he knocks your knee with his, "it's been a hot minute.. how you doin'?"