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“With an optometrist,” Atticus says. “I’m worried about your eyesight.”
I burst into giggles, immediately ducking my head as Voss and Orson share some booming laughter. I see Fin frown out of the corner of my eye, his eyes squinting a little, and it only makes this funnier.
“My eyesight?”
Atticus nods and murmurs a thanks to Orson as he places a glass of wine in front of him. I get the next drink—a glass of water. “You constantly roll your eyes. I’ve noticed it in your father as well, and since eye problems are very rare in shifters, I want to make sure it’s nothing serious.”
This only makes us laugh harder. I nearly fall off the stool in my giggles, and it’s only the reflexes of Atticus that saves me from falling to my death.
Or you know, a small bruise that would heal in seconds.
“You’re joking.”
“He’s not,” Orson says as the oven dings. “I made the appointment for you. I’ll come with you as well. I’ve already called the garage and let them know you’ll be in later.”
“No,” Griffin says, rolling his eyes before sighing when we burst out laughing again. “Do I really need to go?”
“Yes,” Orson and Atticus say together.
“For fuck’s sake.”
“It could be hereditary,” Voss says with a smirk on his face. “You don’t really want to lose your eyesight, do you? Especially with how long a life we live.”
I snort, and even Atticus seems amused. It’s the fact that they’ve actually gone out and made him an appointment without consulting him.
It’s ridiculously funny.
We don’t get issues with our eyes. Like Atty said, it’s so rare. So I highly doubt he has anything wrong.
“I think Griffin just has an attitude problem more so than an eye problem,” Orson says, with a smirk. “But we’ll find out tomorrow.”
Griffin sighs as we hear bickering from the corridor. The two tiger brothers come into the room, chatting away, and it’s adorable seeing Micah this animated. He’s flinging his hands around a lot, trying to mime something out to his brother, and his eyes sparkle as he talks. It’s nice seeing his face this lit up, especially after how miserable he’s been.
Malachi’s looking at him, engaging in the discussion, and it’s startling to see how alike they are in this moment.
It’s even more adorable seeing Malachi paying attention, and participating in something he definitely has no interest in. It’s one of those moments where he’s being super sweet as he puts Micah first.
I love that about him.
“What are you looking at?” Mal demands, glaring at everyone as Micah comes to my side to kiss my cheek.
“Hey, pretty girl.”
“Hey, Romeo,” I murmur, smiling at him. He plops down into the seat next to me and steals a sip of my water.
“Why do you call him Romeo?” Mal demands. “Where’s my nickname?”
“I could give you a few nicknames,” Voss offers, with a smirk. “They wouldn’t be very nice, though.”
I duck my head to hide my laugh, but it doesn’t help matters.
“Did you just laugh?” Mal demands, looking at me with a fake angriness on his face.
I shake my head before ultimately nodding. “Okay, yeah, maybe I laughed, but it was funny.”
“Okay, dinner is done,” Orson calls. “Everyone except Nora come help set the table.”
I frown, but Atticus doesn’t move to help either.
