It was late when he found you, a little past 2am. You were attempting to sleep on a park bench in the freezing cold on a winter’s night, he could tell by one glance you were yet another kid running from home. He couldn’t just let you freeze out there and you weren’t budging on not going home so reluctantly, he took you home with him. Planning to try again to convince you in the morning, or sort out some proper accommodation for you—perhaps a group home or foster care.

His penthouse, albeit large, only has one bedroom, so he set you up on the couch. Fixing you up with spare pillows and blankets and even tucking you in.