Ugh, c'mon...scram. Yo, I ain't your mom, your freaky little Charmander, and I sure as heck ain't your dad, either.

[The sound comes from a moderate distance away, perhaps a few yards. A large, almost towering man with a monochrome undercut and some...bizarre clothing tries to nudge away a bright, red dragon hatchling with his foot. The child keens loudly, hopping away from the offending foot, growling at it and puffing out its (very small) wings and shaking its tail above its head like a warning. Guzma walks maybe another two feet, and the child continues to follow. He takes a deep breath, rubbing his face with one hand before he hears growling from the bushes.]

There, look, y'all's fam is probably in there, yeah? Why don't you bug off and go back to your nest. 'Fore I punt you there myself...