Work Text:
“Yes, well,” Erik answers, putting the washed dishes aside, “Crystal says so, too; if only you’d acted more grown-up you two could have—” a crash of porcelain against the floor interrupts him.
“You talk to my ex-wife?!” Pietro shrieks, and ah, he is always so dramatic.
Erik purses his lips; tugs the metal dustpan over to sweep up the shards on its own, finally replying: “Of course I do; you never do let me see my granddaughter, and I like knowing that she’s well, that she’s receiving my presents.”