As Scarface finished, he paused for a long while before stammering, "D-Dad."

"Good boy."

Scarface wheeled on Madfist right then, only to find the geezer lounging on the couch, beaming so broadly that his wrinkles were smoothing out.

"Tch." Scarface clicked his tongue. "My father was a right bastard, gambling and getting into fights. He even killed my mother and sold me off for money to buy a couple of beers. You'd better not behave the same." "Sure." Madfist nodded cheerfully.

"Hmph."

Scarface snorted but said nothing else.

Hence, they both sat in silence until Frank entered and sat on the couch between them.

"What? Why aren't either of you talking?" he asked, just as the waitress arrived with a fruit platter.

confused to see Frank.

"Oh, you see..."

"We're a family of three here

"Huh?"

glanced between Scarface and Madfist, clearly trying to

between them right then, nonchalantly explaining, "Well, see... I'm his

"What?!"

time, and the waitress was clasping a hand over her mouth as she glanced between Scarface and Madfist. "I-Isn't he his son? And don't they both come from a farming village?" "Huh... Well,

confused too,

waved off the waitress. "Why are asking Bring us

the waitress was finally gone Frank glanced between Scarface and

was burying his face in his palms, feeling too ashamed to look anyone in the eye as he remembered the weird look that the waitress

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