[ Alistair laughs, briefly but without all the heaviness that's accompanied the sound of late—like there was a counterweight to any levity, trying to drag it back into his throat—and shakes his head. ]
They have terrible taste. Dandelions are adorable.
[ And so's Lucci. Any future bickering on the point aside, it is like watching after a puppy, only more clever and more likely to get Alistair murdered if he messes it up. He lets the baby wrestle with Doghren until she seems too excited and on the verge of turning nippy, briefly interferes, engages Lucci in a game of let's learn about object permanence by guessing what hand the pendant is in, and only almost loses him once. He makes it almost the full promised half hour—almost—before the baby is making fussy noises, on the verge of disaster, and Alistair is up with him in one arm, trying to discern the cause. Chewing on his hands meant he was hungry? Or teething. Or tired.
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Date: 2016-06-09 03:29 am (UTC)They have terrible taste. Dandelions are adorable.
[ And so's Lucci. Any future bickering on the point aside, it is like watching after a puppy, only more clever and more likely to get Alistair murdered if he messes it up. He lets the baby wrestle with Doghren until she seems too excited and on the verge of turning nippy, briefly interferes, engages Lucci in a game of let's learn about object permanence by guessing what hand the pendant is in, and only almost loses him once. He makes it almost the full promised half hour—almost—before the baby is making fussy noises, on the verge of disaster, and Alistair is up with him in one arm, trying to discern the cause. Chewing on his hands meant he was hungry? Or teething. Or tired.
Maybe all three. ]