Melou, wearing his usual look of utter woe, is picking huckleberries on the edge of the woods. He remembered a basket this time, and is working steadily, his fingers a little sticky from accidentally squashed berries
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Lucivar's in a good mood, and so he goes looking for Melou, because he's fond of the boy and he knows he frightened him a little last time they spoke. So he comes and finds him, and perhaps sits down next to him.
Lucivar offers him a bit of a small smile. "No, really. I have a son of my own. He's a little beast, and I wouldn't have him any other way. You're far from that - you're a good boyo, and the way I see it, that's probably enough for your father if he's worth his salt."
"Hey there, you."
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Melou looks at him blankly. You have got to be kidding him, Lucivar.
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He pauses. "There are other things boys can do than fight."
Right, Lucivar never-without-a-weapon. Ha. But he does honestly believe it.
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