#task020;

It is no secret that Logan had nothing short of contempt for the man who gave him life. A stark contrast to the empathy he had for his mother whose life consisted of debutante balls, drinking, and spending at least one weekend a month in some asylum to even herself out from mixing medications and liquor far too often. But she loved her son, despite all of the calamity Logan was hellbent on causing his old man. After Logan was kicked out for being caught with another boy, his mother often wrote him and tried to get him to come home. He did, eventually, to stay by her side for her last days on this planet. And then proceeded to come home once more, much to his father’s horror as young as he ever was and to begrudgingly become the primary head of Prescott Industries, before spitting on his father’s grave. Knowing that Logan came from a life of balls, pearls, business, and suits, it’s a wonder the man lives his life in jean, unkempt and wild as can be.

Owen had never known a day in his life that wasn’t full of love and affection before he wound up in the situation that brought him to Covaire. A mother who seldom put him down, who introduced him to art and everything inbetween, a father who taught him a love for tinkering and for the ocean and all things down home southern (including a good glass of bourbon) Owen was the epitome of a child from a loving home even after transitioning. His father just asked him one thing when he came out. “Are you who I raised you to be?” And that was all that ever mattered. Owen still calls home every other day, never staying on for long and never answering questions about where it is he ran off to. He knows, should the day come where he ever decided to leave, that he would always have a place to go home to.