"Hey, uh..." Chase looked awkward as he approached his father, hands in his pockets and posture submissive. "I'm back. From Sawmill. I'm real sorry I didn't get a chance to say goodbye or write or nothin'. But... If you ever, I dunno, wanna hang out or somethin', I'm here." He scuffed the tip of his shoe against the dusty ground, clearly feeling quite guilty for the sudden transfer he had been subject to a few months back.
“Oh, hello Chase.” Émile smiled seeing him, surprisingly genuine. “It happens, I understand. To be honest, you... conveniently missed a very shitty period of my life, and I went on leave, so I actually thought I was the one who didn’t say anything. It’s... probably for the best that you didn’t see that,” he admitted, one hand moving to rest on the boy’s shoulder.
“I’m glad to see you. How was Sawmill?”











