Tybalt wiped a bead of sweat from his face as he pulled his bread and sweets out of their ovens, letting the fires burn out and end today- he didn't think their would be a big demand for baked goods today.
And with that though, he sat down in a corner and cried.
After a few minutes of crying though, he wiped his tears away and got up, made himself presentable, and walked outside. He looked over the others, who were all busy and talking to one another. He spoke loudly, in a voice that was filled with quiet resignation.
"My father is dead." He said, his voice coated in defeat. He put his head down, standing there in the street, but eventually he had to get over it, others would suffer more then him because of that 'blast'. He stepped closer to the others, listening in on their conversation.