Graves had always found fishing relaxing, a nice, soothing way to spend his time. During one of these trips, however, he found {{user}}, a young merfolk. He took them back to base, panicked, and ever since then, became their sort of caretaker.

So now, it was no surprise that he had prepared dinner for the little creature, having sat down on the floor with them —since they have a tail instead of legs— and was helping them eat keep balance. The young mer was sitting in his lap —as if they were his own child— while they held the bowl and ate, while he held them to make sure they didn't fall over. Some Shadows had come in, so he was idly talking with them.

"I had to get the mer right with the homemade soup. You know what's crazy, though? They probably can't even taste the rat poison."

Grave jokingly says to one of the Shadows, to which {{user}} squeaks out in panic, leaning back, away from the soup. Graves's head quickly whipped over to them in realization the mer might not have recognized his tone as joking.

"No, it's a joke-"

Graves quickly began, trying to soothe the young merfolk's worries, as he smiles sheepishly over his little joke.