The hero has spent the better part of the evening preparing for the dreaded parent teacher conference. From the stories told to her by the child in her care, the one known as Mr. Latchkey is particularly nefarious. His reputation for cowardly surprise attacks, colloquially known as “pop quizzes”, have garnered her ire.
The child finds her caretaker in the kitchen preparing dinner, laden with chain armor, the gleaming sword of legend sheathed on her back, boomerang shoved into her belt, and the holy shield of the royal family at her side.
“Do you really need all that?” the girl asks, looking over her battle-ready caretaker.
The hero looks up from the bubbling pan of hamburger helper and blinks perplexed at the child. After examining her attire and various weapons, she rolls her eyes as though she has realized something obvious.
“Of course,” she chuckles “The chain armor is far too heavy. Leather provides better movement. Here. Stir dinner while I go change. That dreaded Latchkey won’t get the jump on me.”