.nglwesley:
With one tiny hand secured into his own, much larger hand, Wesley chanced a quick peek down at Molly who was currently standing at his side, the mother of all pouts practically engraved into her face. Letting out a low chuckle and rolling his eyes, he gave his little girl a quick nudge to garner her attention. When she looked up at him, her eyes narrowed and her bottom lip jutted out in defiance, his grin only deepened.
âYou know if you contort your face like that for too long, itâll stay like that forever!â he told her, following his words with a melodramatic gasp. When misery guts and her sourpuss showed no signs of budging, he laughed again. âAlright, monkey. Puff those cheeks out all you like, maybe if you grow your hair out a little youâll really start growing into that nickname of yours.â
At that, Molly simply stomped her feet and pulled her hand from his, crossing her arms in defiance. With a quick roll of his eyes, Wesley leaned down and scooped her up into his arms, gently placing her over his shoulder and began running his fingers over her belly, tickling her relentlessly. Instantly, she began kicking out, giggles erupting from her as she tried to break free from her dad. After a minute or so, the tickling ceased and he plopped her back down on her feet, finally being greeted with a scrunched up nose and Molly sticking her tongue out at him, her thumb pressed against her nose, with all fingers wiggling. Shaking his head, Wesley leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to his daughterâs forehead, before straightening himself up and eyeing the workload around him.
âGood golly, Miss Molly,â he mused, his eyes flitting back towards his daughter, gauging her reaction at him having used her name in such a manner. With one swift movement, she brought the palm of her hand up to her face, as if to say that was lame, daddy, and Wesley knew they were back in action. âOkay, missy. I have to get all of this done, alright? Can you be a good girl and stay put while daddy gets to work?â
It wasnât out of the ordinary for him to have to bring Molly to work, of course, with Camille consistently disappointing the pair of them. Mollyâs mother didnât have a reliable bone in her body, as was evident in the way she had failed to collect her own daughter from school three days in a row this week alone. Thanks to her being endless stream of disappointment after disappointment, Wesley had yet again been forced to bring his daughter to work today. And, while Molly usually played nicely and decided to sit and patiently wait for her father, today she was feeling a little sour and was insisting he take her to see the ponies. Of course, informing his six year old that he had to work instead was out of the question, and so he only hoped she could sit still for a couple of hours until he moved them along to his next task.
With Molly deciding that a hay barrel was a perfectly adequate place to park her bum, Wesley set his sights on the rather odious task of mucking out the horse stables. Only, about ten minutes in, there was a loud commotion some place outside of the stables, and his head shot up in alarm. Shooting a quick glance at Molly, whose curious eyes were already trained on the door, he pointed a finger at her and shook his head sternly.
âNo, Molly. I know what youâre thinking, alright? Iâll be five minutes, just stay put. Alright?â He kept his tone as light as possible, not wanting to upset or frighten her, but remained firm in his resolve. He didnât like to think of himself as an overly angry, or bossy father, but he had long since accepted that he was to take on the role of both father and mother in all concerns, and so sometimes he didnât always have the luxury of being the good cop. so to speak.
Jogging outside to figure out just what all the ruckus was, his eyes widened as he spotted the source of all the noise. As Park Ranger â as tedious a job as it was at times â it came unto Wesley to undergo a whole plethora of tasks, ranging from putting out fires to providing maps and tour information to enforcing the law around the park. Quite frankly, his job tended to get a little overwhelming at times, but one quick glance before him made it all too clear that this was a matter only he could settle.
Charging forward and landing himself in between two men â one an employee of his, and the other a rather flustered looking gent â he stuck his arms out to stop either of them from walloping each other â or, rather, moreso than they had been before when heâd laid eyes on them.
âWhat on Earth is going on here, Maurice?!â Wesley shouted, turning his head to look at the man in question. He and Maurice had worked together for a few years now, and never had he seen anything quite so ridiculous from him. Maurice, who was now red in the face, sweat dripping from his forehead, and looking as though he was ready to pop a vein, simply shrugged his shoulder aggressively, pulling himself away from Wesleyâs touch. With one swift movement, he turned on his heels and stormed away, leaving a bewildered Wesley in his stead.
âIâm, uh⊠Sleeping with his wife, mate.â
The voice came from behind Wesley, and he turned to stare at the man with whom Maurice had been fighting. At a complete loss for words, Wesley could only stare at him, before waving his arms in defeat and ushering the man away. With Maurice having already retreated, he supposed there really wasnât a lot he could do for the time being, and only hoped the two wouldnât commence their scuffle elsewhere. Heading back towards the barn that he had just exited, he noticed that the door remained ajar, just ever so slightly. Realising his error, he bolted forward and charged inside, his eyes instantly landing on a now vacant hay barrel.
Combing a hand through his hair and spinning frantically on the spot, Wesley searched around the barn for his daughter, but to no avail. Calling out her name time and time again, he concluded the one thing heâd feared the most: she was gone.
Tearing out of the barn once more, he stormed ahead, zigzagging in and out of buildings, checking every place he could find. For Heavenâs sake, she was only six. There really were only so many places she could have gotten to in such a short amount of time. With a jolt, he thought of the ponies, and without stopping to catch his breath, he found himself darting across the grass in the hopes of finding Molly, yearning for one quick ride.
Alas, she was not there, and Wesley choked out a feeble whimper of despair. Utterly at a loss as to just where she could have gotten to, he ran a hand over his face as he racked his brains, before deciding there was no harm in trying, well, every building he could manage. Darting forward, he burst through a door he hadnât tried yet, one that he knew Reuben frequented in particular. He knew that most people mistook their park for nothing but a perfect spot for dog walking, completely oblivious to the various activities that people could partake in, as well as the incredible conversation that they had on sight. This particular building that heâd entered was home to a whole variety of different animals, a safe space for vets, scientists, and other experts alike could take care of whatever endangered, abandoned, or injured species came their way.
On entry, he let out a long, sigh of relief, panting as he burst through the door. His eyes instantly landed on Molly, and guilt surged through his entire body. Not only had he been the worldâs worst father and lost his daughter, but heâd unleashed her on some poor, unsuspecting woman who was trying to do her job.
âOh, you are in big trouble, monkey!â he called out.
Molly swirled on the spot, her eyes widening as she spotted her father, and he watched as she slowly edged herself closer to the the woman and theâ was that a raccoon?!
âMol, I was worried sick! Donât you ever do that to me again.â
The little girl seemed all too intrigued in Chloeâs business with the sleeping raccoon, and the blonde was almost inclined to smile at such an unabashed interest. As it was, terror won out instead and she continued to eye the child warily. She was sure that the little blonde had more interest in the animal than all the sharp objects in the room surrounding them, but Chloe had all sorts of horrible and graphic visions of being cornered by a scalpel wielding child of an unknown age.
âHave you ever⊠seen a raccoon before?â she asked, struggling to think of something to say. It was the same with most adults; Chloe feeling pressured into searching for a single topic of conversation and being rendered an anxious mess when it was left up to her to fill in the gaps between all the small talk.
Before the girl could answer though, Chloe heard the door swing open again and she suppressed an irritated sigh. When sheâd woke up that morning, rolling over in bed and seeing the 6am daylight that she associated with the first signs of springtime, sheâd been rather optimistic about how her day was going to pan out. She was due to work with her animals, keep her head down and look forward to a weekend where she wouldnât be clad in one of her sisterâs (admittedly lavish and beautiful) dresses and be made to commandeer the attention of tycoons and potential financiers for her company. She had planned to go home in the evening to the company of her pup, yet now she was being terrorised.
Spinning on the spot to see who else wanted to disrupt her peaceful afternoon, she found herself staring at a man with a familiar shade of blonde hair, and given that her parents had spared no expense on her private education, Chloe was smart enough to put two and two together â especially when she heard the frantic tone of the man directed at what she could only assume to be his daughter.
Annoyance fizzled out into relief at the thought of no longer being responsible for the little girl, but it seemed like the child in question wasnât eager to face the inevitable reprimand her father was going to give her. Feeling a tugging at the back of her white coat, Chloe lifted her arm to peer behind her, that same round-cheeked face sheâd spent the last five minutes living in fear of hiding behind her.
âOh, umâŠâ she winced, glancing back up at the man by the door. âIâm guessing she belongs to you?â
She attempted to edge away from the little girl but that only prompted the infant to move with her until they were shuffling towards the door in a horrendously awkward two-person conga line.
âShe wandered in and I had no idea how to get her to tell me where her parents were,â Chloe confessed. She gestured towards the raccoon, still dozing on the countertop. âAnd she was very interested in the gentleman over there.â
Remembering how strict her own father could be sometimes, Chloeâs dislike for anyone under the age of eighteen gave way to a small twinge of compassion. She didnât necessarily want the little girl to be scolded, at least not in front of her.
âBut sheâs been no trouble!â she hurriedly assured the man. It was lie, but Chloe thought it was a polite one and that somehow made it acceptable.
