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“You smell different, Auntie.”
She covered a yawn. “I was snuggling with Denier. He kept me company and kept me warm while I was outside.”
“Like Khytten and Salat?”
“A little, but we are not serious.”
“He looks at you seriously.”
“What do you see, mix?”
Baola chuckled. “I get to call him uncle, but he makes you cry a bit.”
“Oh, delightful.”
“Everybody cries some time, Auntie.”
“He also makes you really mad.”
“That I feel is very likely.”
They fell asleep with their foreheads touching.
Lyric woke them up for breakfast, and she had clothes tucked under her arm. “Here you go, time for breakfast. More croissants and plenty of coffee. Khytten is off the wagon, and she doesn’t care how long the babies are up tonight. She wants some damned coffee.”
Baola smiled. “In Little Salat.”
Brit pushed herself to sitting, and her robe was off her shoulders.
Lyric chuckled. “I see that Denier has been keeping you company.”
Brit grabbed at her neck. “He didn’t?”
Baola looked at her. “You have red marks on your neck.”
“Great. Out. I will see you in a few minutes after I get my hair under control and put some pants on.”
Baola and Lyric called out, “Pants!”
They all giggled, and Brit went to get dressed and wipe herself down. She put on the underwear, jeans, and sweatshirt, happy that the neckline was high enough to cover the markings he had put on her neck.
Time for breakfast.
