A drabble on what would happen if the Icials' remaining parent ever returned. Emil approaches his brother with bated breath, heart racing at the speed of light. Invisible hands crush every bone in his throat. He speaks with a heart made of iron, violent hope clashing against raging fear. "Jude...it's...it's Dad. Dad's here." Jude's blank, as if Emil had just told him 'I've got two weeks to live' out of nowhere. "You're shitting me, right? Right?" Emil shakes his head, frightened, feeling as if the world's caving in. Falling away, slipping between his fingers. "He's here, Judy," he repeats, his voice hoarse, quivering. And a figure slowly steps out of the shadows, beard and all. His eyes, a faint shadow of Emil's, are laden with pain. Anguish, loss and hurt. Jude stares. He's silent, but then staggers back, as if the Devil has manifested before him, in human form. "You...you let that piece of shit in here?" he snarls at Emil. "Jude-" "You let that fucking piece of shit in here? Into our apartment?!" The younger Icial bolts, leaving behind a frightened brother and a broken father.