Watching through the head mirror of his Ford, midnight black like all the others, the man smiled affectionately at the excited seven year old in the back of the car. It was the summer holidays. Usually he didn't go to work during the holidays, using the weeks they had to spend frolicking around wherever it was appropriate.

Last summer, they had appeared at the beach dressed ready for a day out, child's hand willingly in his left and bag of nessecary items for the beach captured by his right. That day had been full of laughs and mischief. A downer was put on that day near the end... But let's not ruin a good memory with insensitive bastards.

A small tap at his arm, a gentle little pressure for a short second, brought the man to pay as much attention as was safe to relinquish from the road to the child.

"Hm? What is it?"

He asked, ears listening for the happy child to voice what they had demanded he pay attention for. Shuffling whispered into his ear, proceeded by a small, nervous question.

"Will Joey be there?"

Ah. Joey. His boss and good friend. That was what had the small male in a twist of anxiety. Joey was a rough-edged, intense and driven young man, not sparing young children from his perfectionist - almost to the point he should have been born a house wife - ideals. Often, he took part in a hissing, swearing fit (his favorite go to word being fucking), usually over another colleague of the driver's drinking in the studio again.

However, the father knew this personality reason was not the concern here, silently going through all he could pull from his mind's library on the person christened Joey Drew, best friend and business partner.

There wasn't anything the kid co-ooh.

It wasn't Joey being in attendance that day of work, it was if he was absent. This revelation crested above a wave of sense and crashing down with a reassuring smile and an affectionate pat of the small limb on his much larger one.

"Of course Joey will be there. When is he ever not?"

By the time the car pulled up into its designated parking spot, the smaller of its two passengers became a bundle of energy, nearly leaping from the car into their father's arms as soon as the door was moved out of their way.

The man chuckled, ruffling short, sandy brown hair as he locked the three cornered square with the afterthought of rotating circles up for the day. Although not something particularly wonderful to gaze upon, the unshapely machine was a wonderful addition to the small family. So much so that she had been given a name, Liquorice.

Creaking open to let through a taller, skinnier man than him, the front door deferred to sharp green eyes and black hair which brushed the top of each ear. A white shirt, easily white enough to become a cloud without failure, ironed to a shimmering perfection and tucked neatly and evenly within an equally impeccable set of black striped trousers, showcased the owner of Joey Drew Studios in all of his working glory.

"Morning Henry, Sidney,"

Gruff and with the edge of a blade, the voice bestowed upon them could belong to no interloper nor doppelganger for only Joey held such a way and tone of speaking that, if voices were an inanimate thing to be held, it would have no other competition in the field of mincing flesh, quite possibly even bone.

Sidney, Henry's only living family member besides a black and white cat, smiled widely and leant forward in the nest Henry had created to hold the outstretched hand offered by the other adult. You'd never catch him hugging someone in a public place.

Blue eyes met with green during that formal, physical greeting as Sidney replied to the verbal one too with all of the grace Joey had been the teacher of.

"Mornin' Joey,"

"Morning."

"Morning, Mr Drew,"

Settled where the kid was, he wasn't eye level with Joey but right now Henry had darkened emerald staring through all barricades and into his soul.

"I swear to fucking God, Henry. You will not let your much more dignified son speak like a fucking workless, rabid fool."

Here we go, he thought in the back of his mind. Off he goes on a round of cursing everything 'impure' or 'useless'...

Already, Henry had deployed a shell upon the studio, sighing and patiently waiting for the torrent of advice ("Always make sure to practice the proper way to speak with Sidney, Henry."), strings of cursing ("For fuck's sake, why in the fucking hell would you let a fucking bastard prick to go anywhere within three fucking miles of your son?"), and, the best bit in his opinion, the cool down.

"Right. Do you get what I'm saying, Henry, or do I have to spell it out for you?"

Not wanting another tornado of verbal battering, Henry nodded, supplying an answer when just the nod wouldn't be enough. So, must have caught Wally before this then. But, already? It wasn't even ten in the morning yet.

"I understand exactly what you're - you are - saying, Joey."

Sparkling gems shrunk as the jacketless man narrowed his eyes at Henry.

"It is you. Is it not?"

"Maybe."

"Urg. Clean up your act, find somewhere for Sidney and get to work."

With that, he spun around on unblemished and polished loafers before striding away.