He’s been clear about what he wants,I sent back.And what he doesn’t.
He doesn’t know what the fuck he wants, Hart informed me.
I let out a long breath.Not much I can do about that, I told him.
Stupid dick. Not you. You are neither stupid nor a dick.
I snorted.Thanks, I think.
I am also a dick,Hart texted.See previous messages.
I did laugh out loud at that, and sent him the appropriatelol.
Did anybody tell you Ward and Doc adopted fucking kids?he asked me.
I blinked at the non sequitur.No?!?!
My phone started buzzing, and I swiped it. “They adoptedkids? As in, plural? Don’t they already have Mason’s nephew?”
“Two of them, yeah,” came Hart’s voice. “Taavi’s basically become an uncle,” he said, and I could hear both the affection in his voice and his attempt tonotsound like he was enjoying any of it.
“But not you?”
Hart snorted. “I work too fucking much,” he replied. “Also, I’mme.”
“Right. I forgot that part.”
“Jackass,” the surly elf grumbled at me, but I could feel my face smiling.
A beat or two passed before I spoke again. “So you’re just going to tell me they adopted two kids and leave it there?”
“Zane and Grace,” he said. “They’re like a week apart in age or some shit, so basically twins. Zane’s a faun, Grace is an orc. I guess both came up for adoption around the same time, and those two big softies couldn’t decide between them.”
“Jesus,” I murmured.
“Jesus is fucking right,” Hart replied. “One ten-eleven-however-the-fuck-old-he-is death witch nephew, and now an infant faun and infant orc. They’re both out of their fucking minds.”
“Not much work getting done at BTV, I guess, then.”
Hart snorted. “They just bring the babies to work. My office is now a goddamn nursery.”
“You planning to use it again?” I asked him.
“Nah,” came his reply. “It’s just weird. Those two are so fucking domestic.”
I couldn’t help smiling again, although I didn’t say anything to Hart—but the baking-obsessed elf was one to call someone else domestic. I knew Mason cooked, but I wasn’t sure that cooking qualified as any more—or less—domestic than baking. “So no kids for you?”
“Fuck, no. Taavi can have his students and play uncle for the Campion-Manning brood. I want to sleep in on my precious few days off, not wake up five times a night to change diapers and feed some greedy little shit that can’t wipe its own ass.”
I was laughing outright now. I didn’t know that I wanted kids, either, but I felt like I was slightly more positively inclined toward the possibility than Hart was. “But Uncle Hart—” I made my voice into a sing-song whine.
“I will fucking cut you, Mays.”
15
Elliot Crane
I don’t suppose you’re awake?
