He wasn't the type to care about anyone. Let alone a crying kid. Specifically a snot-nosed brat crying onto the pant leg of his custom tailored slacks. Damn it all. I paid a good amount for this. He scowled but against his better judgment, he lifted the little demon spawn up into his arms. "Hey . . . Stop crying, brat," he grumbled. What did he get? The damned demon screeched into his ear. He winced. The kid was almost as bad as the hookers were nowadays with their exaggerated moans and screams. It's why he never touched those but he was seriously considering taking the alternative and having a woman screaming his name in pure unadulterated bliss. Because no one could fake a release when he was the cause. No one. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he rocked the child in his arm rather awkwardly. Where the hell was this kid's parents? The child's cries barely lessened---if at all---and he was just tempted to toss the kid down onto the floor, done with his cries. Just as he loosened his grip, he spotted someone storming his way. A little thing. Stricken and worried and---she was heading right for him, wasn't she? And there she stood, in front of him in the blink of an eye, reaching for the child. She cooed, rocking him in her arms as the child turned and tucked his head into her neck. Hers? he wondered, eyeing the interaction. No. he realised, eyes drifting down her form. She didn't seem to be the child's mother. Too young for one. But to be sure, he confirmed. "Is he yours?" he asked, forgetting about the snot stains on his slacks and suit coat.