As Michael opened the door, he saw Cranky sitting on the couch, waiting for him.

"Heya Dad..." Michael greeted, waving his hand. "Sorry to keep you waiting..."

"It's fine." Cranky replied. "Now please sit down."

Michael took a seat next to his foster father. He seemed to gulp a little as he knows he has a short temper.

"What is it, dad?" Michael asked.

"So," Cranky started. "You're not from here, I see."

Michael nodded.

"Where are you from, exactly?"

"Despair Valley." Michael replied.

Cranky seemed to raise a brow. Michael gulped the second time.

"Interesting..." Cranky mumbled to himself. "So, not to remind you about your past, but- do you know your parents' names?"

Michael shook his head.

"No," he replied. "But I do know what they look like."

"Tell me about it." Cranky said.

"My mom has yellow skin like me and she's a blonde." Michael described his mother. "Her face is round like mine too. She has an eyelash for each eye and she always frowns."

Cranky seemed to rub his chin. Michael gulped the third time.

"Well, about my dad..." Michael started describing his father. "He has a grey octagon as a face, and he has a beard. He has shoulder length black hair with a tuft on his head and he works as a night guard."

Cranky rubbed his chin again as Michael's heart seemed to skip a beat.

"No, it couldn't be...or could it...?" Cranky seemed to mumble. "It must've been a coincidence. Tell me it's a coincidence..."

Michael looked at Cranky, puzzled.

Then, he remembered something.

A day before, as he was lying on Brock's bed, he heard a bit of conversation between his foster parents. It's something about the word familiar. But, he still couldn't figure out why.

"Familiar..." Michael mumbled. "What familiar..."

Cranky looked at him as he mumbled. Michael noticed and looked up.

"Familiar?" Cranky asked. "You...you heard my conversation with your mother yesterday...?"

"A little bit, though..." Michael replied. "What do you mean by 'familiar'? How am I Familiar to you? Have you...met me somewhere or something...? I'm pretty sure I have no memory of meeting you, though, dad..."

"I don't know, Michael." Cranky replied. "This really is odd... You really did look familiar. I know I've seen this face somewhere during my shift as a traffic police."

"I did?" Michael asked.

"Yeah..." Cranky replied, trying to remember a bit about his own past. "Oh dear, oh no- could it be him-"

"Boys! Time for lunch!" Helen called them as she put a plate down on the dining table.

"Okay!" Everybody called back, heading towards the dining room.

Michael was still curious about his foster father's past. Have they really met each other? He reached out a hand, wanting to call him, but he decided not to.