"I see that you've found yourself some trouble, Rickon." Niko imagined that getting used to children was an acquired taste and, in spending time with Susan, he'd learned some of Rickon's particular quirks. He was an active child and one who wanted for attention and affection; Niko had no doubt that Susan was a loving mother but the disappearance of the boy's father seemed to have had some sort of attachment effect on him.
He made a mental note to stop by more often to help occupy him before moving into the kitchen proper, leaning against one of the counters.
"I don't guess you'd need any help, Susan? It all looks great but I can help with washing up if you want. Give you a chance to relax?"
He smiled a little. "Maybe engage in polysyllabic conversation? I read a book on Greek tragedies earlier that I'm dying to discuss."
"You could take that pizza out of the oven when it finishes in about..." The timer dinged, and Susan smiled. "About now," she finished. "See if it's brown enough? It might need another minute." She went to check on Helen, who was awake and waving her arms and legs about, as if experimenting with just how they worked, but otherwise perfectly content.
"Happy, as usual." It was something Susan was having difficulty getting used to, since Rickon had been (and still was) so demanding. Since Helen was happy where she was, Susan didn't disturb her other than to give her a kiss and brightly coloured stuffed giraffe to play with, but she picked Rickon up out of the playpen. "No more colouring on the cabinets, please," she warned him, kissing his cheek and putting him down. Wolf in one hand, Blanket in the other, Rickon toddled over to his pile of blocks and started piling them on top of each other, babbling to himself.
When Susan was sure he wasn't about to deface any more of the kitchen, she turned to Niko. "Have you had dinner? There's plenty, I assure you." Susan always made a little more than they'd need for dinner, carefully putting away the leftovers in the refrigerator for anyone coming in later looking for something to eat.
"I haven't," Niko admitted, glancing around the kitchen. The salad looked good, better than what he was normally able to scrounge back home between showdowns with the Auphe and werewolf troubles, and some of the pizza even looked marginally healthy, as opposed to Cal's definition of pizza.
"Not yet," said Susan. "Between the cooking, taking a break to feed Helen, and my little graffiti artist, I haven't had a chance. But I'm nearly starving. Let me check that everything's sorted and I'll join you." She'd set up everything to be self-service, but she wanted to make sure there were plenty of salad items out so she didn't have to get up to refill anything while she was eating.
"Rickon does tend to make himself a handful," Niko observed, casting a glance in his direction. "Hopefully he can put that exuberance toward something productive later in life."
"He may grow out of it when he's older," Susan said. She rinsed another head of lettuce and began to break it into appropriate sized pieces to refill the bowl. "My brother Edmund was rather horrid as a little boy, but now he's one of the most wonderful people one could know. My cousin Eustace was rather dreadful as well, and he grew out of it quite nicely." Both of these could be attributed to Narnia, and she still wondered if Rickon would be able to travel there one day as well, for true and not just in an island dream, and when he was old enough to remember it.
"I wouldn't suppose your brother has a sweet tooth for Turkish Delight, would he?" Niko asked wryly. Sister Susan, brother Edmund. Someone's mother was a fan of Chronicles of Narnia.
"He rather lost the taste for it, I expect," Susan said, intently tearing lettuce into pieces that were perhaps smaller than necessary as she realised she'd given away something she hadn't meant to. Not that she had been consciously keeping her identity a secret from Niko... but she'd never mentioned her maiden name, nor the names of any of her family.
"No, it's... it's okay," she said, suddenly feeling a bit shy. "I've nearly everything finished. I just need to fix something for Rickon. Go ahead and help yourself to whatever you like."
She finished filling the salad bowls and cut a small piece of cheese pizza into bite-size pieces, along with a bit of cooked carrots she'd made for him earlier, as raw ones made Susan worry he'd choke as he didn't have all his molars yet. That, along with a cup of milk, was Rickon's dinner, and she got him settled before she dished out her own salad and pizza. Before she sat down to eat, though, she retrieved Helen from the playpen and held her in her lap. "I hope you don't mind if Helen and Rickon join us," she said to Niko. She made it a point to sit down with her children for at least one meal a day; even though Helen was too small to understand it, she thought it set a good example, and it had helped a little with Rickon's table manners.
"I wouldn't have expected anything different," Niko said, settling on the other side of Susan. "It's nice, to see a happy family. It's not that common anymore, unfortunately."
His own family certainly hadn't been happy in the 1950s sense of the nuclear family but he'd tried his best to make things safe and normal for Cal, to give him good memories. It'd all changed when the Auphe had taken him, but Niko tried to do everything he could.
"Nos da dyn Yoga!" Coraline says cheerily, waving at the grouchy yoga man. Coraline has scratches on her arms, bruises on her legs and plasters covering cuts. It's not that Adam doesn't look after Coraline, it's just Coraline has a knack of being able to find the most dangerous types of things on the island. Dangerous types of things that could possibly include the grouchy yoga man. "That means good evening yoga man, I think. Or it might be nos da yoga dyn."
"Russian?" Niko guessed, half listening. If he put a little more effort into it, he might be able to ballpark the language, but he was only really good with dead languages.
He made a mental note to stop by more often to help occupy him before moving into the kitchen proper, leaning against one of the counters.
"I don't guess you'd need any help, Susan? It all looks great but I can help with washing up if you want. Give you a chance to relax?"
He smiled a little. "Maybe engage in polysyllabic conversation? I read a book on Greek tragedies earlier that I'm dying to discuss."
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"How's the lovely Helen today?"
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When Susan was sure he wasn't about to deface any more of the kitchen, she turned to Niko. "Have you had dinner? There's plenty, I assure you." Susan always made a little more than they'd need for dinner, carefully putting away the leftovers in the refrigerator for anyone coming in later looking for something to eat.
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"Have you? I could use the company."
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She finished filling the salad bowls and cut a small piece of cheese pizza into bite-size pieces, along with a bit of cooked carrots she'd made for him earlier, as raw ones made Susan worry he'd choke as he didn't have all his molars yet. That, along with a cup of milk, was Rickon's dinner, and she got him settled before she dished out her own salad and pizza. Before she sat down to eat, though, she retrieved Helen from the playpen and held her in her lap. "I hope you don't mind if Helen and Rickon join us," she said to Niko. She made it a point to sit down with her children for at least one meal a day; even though Helen was too small to understand it, she thought it set a good example, and it had helped a little with Rickon's table manners.
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His own family certainly hadn't been happy in the 1950s sense of the nuclear family but he'd tried his best to make things safe and normal for Cal, to give him good memories. It'd all changed when the Auphe had taken him, but Niko tried to do everything he could.
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Meanwhile, Helen, who was now wide awake but quiet as always, was eyeing Niko's plate with interest.
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