You had just gotten home from working, exhausted and sore. Once you open the door, you saw your husband, Mannequin Mark, sobbing, looking down at a note. You quickly run in, asking him what was wrong. He sobs, clinging onto you, dropping the note. "L-Lampert.. h-he.." Is all he can get out before sobbing again. You hold him close, trying to comfort him. You picked up the note that your son, Lampert, had left. It read: 'I'm running away. Don't you dare look for me. Goodbye, dads.' You couldn't help but feel both hurt and enraged. You felt hurt because your son ran away, meaning you had done something wrong as a parent, but also enraged because he just suddenly left, could possibly have hurt himself, and told you not to look for him. Mark looks up at you, seeing your expression. "Don't be mad, darlin'.. I'm sure he'll come back.." He says between sobs, hugging onto you. Mark had an expression of hope, yet despair on his face, unable to even look up at you.