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He grunts softly, half-aware of the shuffle that tugs at the sheet covering him, a small form sneaking underneath the next moment.
’{ Sef… }’ Voice quiet, half rough with interrupted sleep and careful, as not to let the trouble reach his wife’s ear beside him as well. The boy is quiet, quickly having moved close to his father in bed, feet - cold from the stone floors - standing on the man’s thighs. It renders him more awake than he would like to be at this hour. ’{ What are you doing here? Go back to bed. }’
The boy’s locks brush against his father’s bearded chin, peeking up to briefly meet the heavy lidded gaze, as if he had not expected for his little maneuver to be noticed before morning. ’{ I can’t, the ghouls will chew off my toes—! }’ He’s quick to explain himself, though, trying to have his words come forth at the same low volume, as not to wake his mother, it is still a little brash.
Yet the elder doesn’t shush him, but rolls onto his back with a sigh, evident for but the heave of his chest. He doesn’t need to ask the culprit on this. ’{ There are no ghouls. }’
’{ You wouldn’t know when they’re invisible, }’ comes, rushed, the argument.
Altair knows there’ll be little sense in trying to reason this tonight.
Sef had already moved up, ice-like toes he thought he’d escaped tickling up on his hip this time. The arm that had rested over his eyes eventually wraps around the boy's middle, too sleep-drunken to discuss fictive creatures, quickly defeated.
’{ Alright, }’ he murmurs then, ’{ But hush now. }’
And as far as he can tell from behind lids slipped all shut once more, the assent is enough to soothe the distress that had dragged the boy out of his own bed; much to the man’s gladness that, by this, he is allowed back to his own sleep.