"God damn, someone needs to shut that brat up," a man said, covering his ears.

Marco turned his head from side to side trying to find where the screaming was coming from. Maybe there was some way he could help. Sprinting to the rather busy market stalls, the freckled teen ignored Jean calling after him that they didn't have time for this and that Shadis would probably have their hides if they didn't return soon. Soon he came to an exasperated mother trying to make a little boy to stop crying. Every time she tried to grab the boy's arm he would lash out.

"Is there any way I can help?" Marco asked, once he'd jogged to the pair.

The woman eyed his trainee uniform before shrugging. "He's just having a temper tantrum, it's embarrassing. You can try but he's just being a brat until he gets his way."

Brown eyes travelled down to the child crying on the ground. He wasn't pointing at a treat or toy, but just seemed very upset: crying, yelling, but not deliberately seeming to want anything. He'd seen this before. With his little brother, if noises, colours, and crowds became too much for the youngest Bodt, he'd have a meltdown.

"Do you mind if I take him out of the crowd for a moment?"

"I don't see how it'll help but go ahead, he'll hit you if you try to take his arm."

Marco nodded and crouched down to the small child's level, he turned back to the mother briefly. "What's his name?"

"Sven."

Marco focused quietly on the boy. He held out a hand but didn't make a grab for the child, just held his hand out and kept it there within reach for him. When he spoke he kept his voice soft and quiet. "Sven, hey Sven, it's alright. My name's Marco. Things are a bit much for you right now, aren't they? Can you come sit with me right over there?" With his other hand he gestured just outside the gathering of people. "There's less noise and people there."

Sven, still crying, eventually seemed to notice Marco's motionless hand. After a moment he finally took it, allowing himself to be pulled to his feet and led to a quieter, emptier section of the street.

Eyes wide, the mother soon joined them. Marco stayed kneeling at the boy's height, keeping his hand out for the boy to hold. Slowly the tears stopped.

Marco smiled softly up at the mother. "I have an autistic little brother. Sometimes things become just too much for him, too much noise, people, it could end up being anything really. It leads to a sensory overload and then a meltdown."

"Marco! C'mon we need to head back!"

Twisting around slightly to address Jean, who had his arms crossed and was irritably tapping a foot, Marco nodded with an apologetic smile. "I know, I know, hold on." He turned back to Sven, "Are you alright now, Sven?" Sven nodded and only then did Marco pull his hand back. "I'm glad. I have to go now, be a good boy for your mother, Sven."

Standing and heading over the Jean, the other teen grabbed his arm and dashed off, dragging Marco along. "If we get in trouble, I'm blaming you."

Marco sighed, letting out a soft chuckle, "That's fine, Jean."