"Simon?"

The little girl…Marceline, right…? Gave the now-deceased world's most adorable frown ever mustered, crossing her tiny arms and cocking a brow. What is she doing that for? What happened? Did he do something? Say something?

Oh, no…Not again.

Not like Betty.

Please.

The man swallowed heavily, his own ever-thickening brows knitting and a light sweat actually breaking across his ice cold forehead in the strain to regain himself. It's only been a few weeks since he found the child, alone and absolutely terrified after the bombs finally stopped falling, but…

It's getting worse.

It's happening more often.

Please.

"Helloooo? Ooo to Simon! Come in, Simon!" She tries again, jumping up and down in his face and waving her arms wildly to get his attention, finally just yanking on his beard a little rougher than she meant.

This is bad.

Really bad.

Please.

"Wha—? Uh…Er…I'm fine, deary. Just…Lost in thought, y'know?" He forced a smile, rubbing at his chin to get it to quit tingling and to hide the fact that he still didn't really know what just happened.

She needs him.

He needs her.

Please.

Marceline grudgingly grunted in acceptance, kicking at a rock with a small, scuffed foot. She's so tiny. If…When…He finally loses to the crown, who will take care of her? Who will protect her? Make sure she grows up safe and sound and reunites with the father she's always talking about?

More time.

Just a little more time.

Please.

The man gave another smile, though this time it's more genuine. Putting icy, gentle hands around the tattered shoulders of her overall's, he pulled her close to him, a playful glint all too obvious behind his goofy glasses.

"Come now, I'll tell you a story…."