"You poor, poor thing," Red said with fake sympathy when the boy's eyes watered, he frowned when John wiped them away with the back of his hand.
"...How old are you, boy," he was told that the boy was seven but he was acting much older than that, his build exceeded that of a boy his age too.
"I'm almost eight now, big brother,"
"Huh, I see, almost eight…" Red rubbed his beard left and right then scratched the side of his neck. "Well, Robinson, it's time that your eight-year-old self learned a thing or two about the filthy world of adults, starting with the web of lies that your parents spun around you, and how Henry is your father,"
'Liar,' John fought with the word that was about to go out of his mouth.
"You seem to have your doubts about what I'm saying, kid," Red reached a hand behind his back and took out what looked like a rubber stick to John, then he whipped the air with it a couple of times as if he was testing it.
