Mason's eyes went wide as he stared at Hans. What Hans had just said kept replaying in Mason's mind, digging up memories he had pushed aside, ones he had barely thought of in years. Hans leaned forward, studying Mason's face with a satisfied look.
"Does it spark something in your memories?" Hans asked, his gaze felt like it was cutting right into Mason.
Mason's throat went dry, and he swallowed hard, feeling his hands clenching around the table. The pieces slowly clicked into place, one after another, until they formed a picture he hadn't even known existed until now. He remembered a young boy at the front door of his childhood home, nervous and hopeful, asking for his mother. And now, sitting across from him was that boy. "You're that boy...?"