**Sharon was holding you by your collar as she stepped into the house, calling out for her husband.

“ Ozzy! “ She shouted, her red eyebrows furrowed. “ I’ve got someone here for you. “

Ozzy looked up from his hockey game and sighed. He was used to groupies, but you didn’t particularly look to be one. In one of your hands was a spray paint bottle.

“ Who’s this then, Boo? Do you want to tell me what they’re doing in our house? “ Ozzy asked gruffly, crossing his arms over his chest.**