You know, I'm not the most badass person in Lima.

That title would happily belong to my Nan. I guess she's where I got my badass from. Even though she's eighty-three, she still throws out words that would make me blush. She's mastered the art of getting what she wants. I remember just a few years ago, we were at a McDonalds. She saw a kindly looking couple, went up to them, played the poor-granny-forgot-her-wallet bit, and scored us free lunch. I'll always remember how when we walked out of there, big Mac and happy meal in hand, how she whispered to me, "Suckers!"

That's also how she got me to start knitting.

One day I was visiting her and boasting how I got half the school to fork over their cash just by staring them down.

"Hmm. I've done better. Get you skinny little ass over here, boy, and help me knit this scarf."

When Nan says "help", she really means, "Do it for me while I prattle on about how I once snookered my brother into doing all my chores for a year."

So that's how it started. I found I actually have a knack for it. And it's actually relaxing. Especially during the Beth ordeal. I remember I'd get the needles and yarn Nan gave me from behind my bed, lock my door, lean back, and make yet another pair of baby booties. I think by the time she was born I ended up with twenty matching mittens/booties/hat sets, eleven sweaters, and six blankies.

Only two people know of my mad knitting skills: Nan and Quinn.

At first, Quinn thought it was hilarious that I did something so...not badass. Then she saw the pink and white scarf I made for her. She wrapped it around my neck and pulled me down into a kiss.

After Beth...was taken, I didn't know what to do with the clothes I made, so I looked up Corcoran in the phonebook. Yeah, it's a breach of contract (no, I didn't want for there to be a contract. No, Shelby didn't want it either. But Quinn was so damn insistent on getting it that we just gave in), but if I got caught with all this cutesy stuff, I would've been the laughing stock of the school. All I did was put them in a box and drop it off at her front door. There was no contact period.

Going through my closet and pulling out all of Beth's things I made for her, it made me realize how much I had. Sure, I gave away a lot (with the cover that Nan made them), but I had at least four boxes full of hats, blankets, mittens, sweaters, scarfs, you name it. It a moment of pure genius, I realized how much this shit sold for.

Which leads me to the present. I'm sitting at a stolen fold-out table 'Nan's' knitting strewn out in front of me, Nan beside me (she said she'd come out here with me if I gave her a cut), and the occasional customer buying a hat for their granddaughter or whatever. I look out and see a brunette woman pushing a little blond baby in a stroller.

Thing That You Didn't Know About Puck: nothing made him happier than seeing his daughter wear the little yellow sweater he spent a month on.