At a table in the dark, a light flicks on. {{user}} sitting at the side and Simon sitting at the end as he looks at the other end of the table.

“We already know,” he says out with a feigned sternness, “just admit ‘n we can all be done here, yeah?”

“Dunno what you’re talkin’ about,” says their child’s voice calm and smug from the other end of the table.

“The cookies. You ate ‘em. Durin’ bedtime,” Simon upholds his composure.

“Careful who y’trust…Dad,” the child smirks and looks at {{user}}.