"Yearbook Club, huh?" George asked as he eyed his foster son curiously. "You didn't strike me as a Yearbook kid."

Alex shrugged. "It's something to do, and I know someone there."

"Well, I'm happy for you. Not many kids volunteer for a club on their second day."

There was a long moment of silence before the teen spoke up. "...George?"

The man glanced up at the younger boy. "Yeah?"

"I... I just wanted to say thank you. You and Martha have... done a lot for me in the past week."

"You don't have to thank us for that, kid. That's what we're here for; we just want to make sure you're taken care of," He rambled awkwardly for a moment, his mind struggling to find the right words.

"I know you didn't necessarily want me," Alex replied.

"Who told you that?"

The teen shrugged again. "Common sense, I guess. Nobody says "Give me the moody one with abandonment issues." You also kinda seemed caught off-guard when I first got here. Did you even know I was coming?"

"Yeah, I knew..." George fumbled, remembering how he had originally felt. Part of him thought those feelings had disappeared completely, but the other part of him knew better. In all honesty, George still had no idea what he was doing. He hadn't even known Alexander for a week; what if what he had been told was true? "I guess I just didn't know how to handle you at first."

"I get it. They probably told you that I had a troubled past, and that I was some kind of delinquent or something," Alex answered with an uncomfortable chuckle.

The nonchalance in the boy's voice irritated George. "Why would you think that?"

"I'm not stupid, George... My last placement told me all about it. I had a run-in with the police when I was thirteen for shoplifting. I rarely sleep for more than a few hours at a time, and I'm a disruption every time I wake up. I won't be completely honest with people. Trust me, I heard all of it." There was barely any emotion in the teen's voice.

If George wanted to, he could tell Alex the whole truth: the social workers had warned them about Alex's supposed "behavioral issues" and bad home life. They hadn't gotten many specifics, but it had been enough that they had recommended not accepting Alexander as their very first foster child. For whatever reason, though, Martha had agreed to take him.

And George had noticed some of what the teen was talking about. He would by lying if he said he and Martha had yet to wake up to the sound of Alex crying out as he woke up from a nightmare. George had actually talked Martha out of rushing to Alexander's side, convincing her that he would be embarrassed. He had picked up on the fact that Alex always seemed like he had something else he wanted to say, but he never could get it out of him.

But was telling him all of that really the best course of action? George still had a lot to learn when it came to this parenting stuff. "We did hear... some things from the social workers before you were placed in our care. Martha really wanted to help you, I guess."

Alex paused. "Did you?"

"I mostly went along with what she wanted because it seemed to make her happy," The man confessed, "But I'm glad that I did that now."

Alexander wasn't convinced, but he dropped the issue. Things were starting to skew too far into emotional territory for him to be comfortable. "What are we doing for dinner?"

George didn't know whether he should chalk that up as a failure, but it kinda felt like one. "Oh, I don't know. We could order pizza, I guess. With Martha working late, I doubt she'll want to wait for dinner. What toppings do you like?"

"Sausage."

"I'm more of a pineapple guy myself," George replied as he unlocked his cell phone to place an order. When he got no response, he glanced back at Alex, only to be met by a judgemental stare. "...What?"

"Gross," Alex simply stated.

"Oh, shove it," George chuckled, relieved to see the teenager's expression lighten as well.

Martha Washington arrived home to find her husband and foster son both sitting on the couch, Nintendo Switch Joycons in hand.

"How did you die already?" Alexander laughed as Luigi reappeared in a bubble on-screen.

"I'm trying, but this stupid controller is tiny!" George defended himself, and he wasn't wrong; the small controller did look difficult to use in George's hands.

Both of them had a greasy paper plate on the coffee table in front of them, and Martha picked them up as she made her way into the kitchen to grab her own food.

"Quit hogging the mushrooms!" She heard George say, followed by mischievous laughter from Alex.

Martha smiled as she took her own plate back to join them, making herself comfortable in the recliner and watching game on the TV. Apparently, Alexander had decided that George was being a hindrance and thrown him into a pit, meaning he was out for the remainder of that level. The Switch had been a risky purchase when they first discussed fostering, but the laughter filling the living room made it worth every penny.

One minute later, Mario grabbed the top of the flagpole and slid down, prompting George to ruffle Alex's hair roughly.

"Hey, Alex, how about you tell Martha about your new friend and Yearbook Club?"