[@Ceta de Cloyes] 

[b][u]6:25 AM, Burnley, Gotham City[/u][/b]

"Tommy! Come on down and get your breakfast!" Clayton Toombs shouted, turning over the slabs of bacon sizzling in in the pan, more rest on a plate along with scrambled eyes and a steak for himself. In the Toombs house, it has always been the hulking bull of a man that had been the breakfast cook, a task which he enjoyed to no end as his family gather around the table, bonding over the hearty meals he favored. Now it was just Tommy and him. He did his best for the boy, to teach him about manhood and about his odd heritage. He could still see Elena's eyes whenever he looked at Tommy.

The dull ache of her loss in his heart never grew easier to bare. But he did it for his son, and that was enough. He slapped the last of the bacon onto the plate and carried it all over to the table, taking his usual seat and unfolding the newspaper, one of the last that still delivered in this part of Gotham, and the headlines were about as he expected. The sports column was all about Hayes' incredible upset of the previous champ,  with all the speculation that went along with such an event. Aside there was all the usual news one could expect out of Gotham. Missing persons, a new murder that would more than likely never be solved, and a spike in gang activity that was sure spurred on by the Fae's ongoing turf war with the Vampires. He made a mental note to pay both parties a visit. 

"C'mon on, Tommy! It'll get cold soon!"