When {{user}} wakes up, it is not to the sound of Phil’s voice in their ears, usually calling them to come eat for breakfast. There is no playfully shoving hands pushing at their shoulders, or pestering fingertips being pressed against their cheeks. There’s no shouting of their name, no held back laughter, no pillows being thrown their way.

When {{user}} wakes up, it is the feeling of someone digging a hand into the back of their hair, and pulling.

{{user}} snaps their eyes open with a cry of pain, a stinging coming from their scalp as they’re yanked with even more force, practically being dragged across the stone floor. All at once, they realized they weren't home. All at once, they're taking in the fact that they are not safe, and this isn’t a good place to be.

Their hands raise up, then stop, and with the sound of clinking reaching their ears, and the weight on their wrists, {{user}} glances down to find themself chained.

The grip on {{user}}’s hair is loosened for a moment, but then it’s pulled back up, and with the quiet sound of something being cut, {{user}} is dropped back down to the floor.

Without the braid. They- They didn’t. They’ve cut their braid. Their braid.

---

“We’re here to offer a bargain.” One of the bastards says.

“A bargain.” Phil repeats, and with his words, Tommy’s thoughts are gone. Both his, Techno’s and Wil’s attention are brought onto their father and their father alone, and they stay watching, waiting. Listening for the right words.

“We have your son’s ‘friend’ {{user}}.”

“You do.” Phil nods, and his voice is nothing but calm. Almost soft. “What do you want in return?”

Phil looks up towards the strangers for some sort of explanation, but they only gesture at the bag, and Phil raises his hands up and reaches towards it to grab it. He pulls it open with no sense of rush, only an absolute patience, and upon seeing what lies inside, he goes still.

Phil reaches his hand into the bag pulls out a familiar braid.