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Lon’qu:
“Lon’qu.”
There’s no answer.
“Lon’qu.”
Again, there is no answer. Unsurprising, considering the man is sleeping. Or perhaps he is merely feigning sleep to try to get her to leave; past experience has shown that he would definitely go so far to try and avoid her.
Unluckily for him, past experience has also shown that figs are an excellent way to wake him.
“Ow! Damnable woman, would you stop that!”
Lon’qu throws his blankets off his head, glaring at Robin in a way that would make the Risen quake in fear. She’s unaffected. Really, Lon’qu can try so hard sometimes to be intimidating but she has Lissa’s testimony about him chasing butterflies! And Nowi had been talking about how he was the best at playing house with her, and the mental image was just too adorable. Lon’qu couldn’t out-intimidate a kitten.
“Good, you’re up. Now, I have a question.” Robin smiles and settles down on the edge of his bed, legs crossed and fingers steepled.
“If I answer will you let me sleep?”
“Sure, sure.” Robin nods. “It’s just a quick question.”
“Fine,” he groans. “Out with it.”
“Would you give someone flowers or a box of sweets on the first date?”
Lon’qu blinks. Blinks some more. Takes a bit more time to process the question.
He eventually settles on, “…What?”
“I mean, not that there’s a first date at this point. Just, sort of, to let someone know? Signal your interest? And if there’s somebody who likes both of them? If we were talking about Gaius then the sweets would be the obvious choice, right? But we aren’t talking about him, of course not. No offense to Gaius, though. But this is someone else, and they sort of like flowers—like the marigolds in the fields near camp—and sort of like sweets—like, say, the cranberry-stuffed chocolates from the candy shop in town—so which one do you think would be more appropriate for… you know… stuff? Romantic gestures? …Hypothetically speaking, of course.”
Robin ends the nervous babble with an uncharacteristically bashful gesture, ducking her head down and tracing meaningless circles into his sheets.
Lon’qu groans and lets his head fall back on the pillow. Just when he thought he was free of the whole sneaking into his tent thing their madwoman of a tactician somehow gets it into her head to ask him for romantic advice in the middle of the night. He places a hand on his face. Maybe if he’s lucky he’ll smother himself with it. “I hate,” he says into his palm. “So much.”
“I’m sorry, what was that? Sweets?” She leaps off his bed. “Wonderful! Thanks so much, Lon’qu! Sleep well! Don’t forget that you’re leading tomorrow’s attack!”
Chrom:
“Don’t worry, Sumia. We’ll catch whoever it is that tried to assassinate you,” Chrom says, glaring at the upended box of chocolates on the ground. “We’re lucky that Gaius got into the box before you did. We wouldn’t have realized they were stuffed with cranberries otherwise.”
“Uh, captain… I’m sure it was just an accident,” Sumia says. Her smile is half a grimace.
“Hmm. Who could have known that you were deathly allergic to cranberries?” Chrom ponders, a hand on his chin.
“Oh, Captain… I’m sure we’ll find out soon. But, anyway.” Sumia pauses. “I. Um. Have kind of a personal question, if that’s okay?”
“Huh?” Chrom looks up from his serious contemplation. “Of course, Sumia. What is it?”
“C-could I ask how you fell in love with Olivia?”
He’s momentarily taken aback by the question, and Sumia watches as his face starts turning as red as she herself is feeling. He coughs into a fist. “Er… well. It may sound trite, but you could say it was love at first sight.”
“Oh.” Well, Sumia knows she’s pretty much gotten that part down.
“Aside from that… we spent some time together on the battlefield. I saw her… dances. And um, I suppose I fought some soldiers who were coming after her.” He coughs again. “Um. Yes. We had a few conversations with each other after that. And, uh, that is more or less it.”
“Oh. Thank you, captain. That’s all, I guess.”
She says her goodbyes and stalks off with A Plan. They’ve kind of been working on the conversation part, even though Sumia can tell that Robin isn’t interested in most of what Sumia reads. (Oh, Robin’s so nice and considerate and looking over that conversation now, Sumia could just cringe at how pushy and desperate she sounded, but goshhh Robin’s so nice…)
So that leaves the defending in battle part. She can do that, she thinks. Yeah! She can! Any enemy who even so much at looks at Robin the next battle is done, Sumia decides. With a confident nod, she returns to her tents to polish up her armor for the next battle.
Gregor:
“You must be having some rabbit’s leg!” Gregor announces, clapping Robin on the back with so much force that she stumbles forward. “Not even a little scratch in last battle!”
Robin smiles nervously. “I suppose,” she says, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m not really sure why, but there weren’t any enemies anywhere near me. I kind of felt useless, though.”
For some reason, Gregor frowns in contemplation. “Best not to look gift horse in the mouth,” he says. “Anyway, why are you here today?”
Right. Robin did come to ask Gregor something… She steels herself, takes a deep breath, and just blurts it out: “I want to ask for some r…romantic advice.”
Gregor stares at her appraisingly for a few moments, arms crossed. The seconds tick by and Robin can feel herself slowly getting redder and redder.
He suddenly laughs boisterously and pulls her closer in by the shoulder. Her accompanying chuckles trail off quickly.
“Ah, it is good that you come to Gregor for advice! But first, who is it that you are looking at? It is Chrom? If so, you have a lot of competition, my friend! There is beautiful Olivia, there is the good lady Cordelia… even young Ricken seems very taken with him, no? And I am afraid that I cannot offer any assistance. Conflict of interest, you see. Gregor already offer his services to somebody else.”
If Robin isn’t tomato-red by now, it’d be a miracle. “Uh. It’s not Chrom. Um. He’s a good friend, but… not Chrom.”
“Oh, ok! Excellent! So, what kind of advice are you looking for?” Gregor crosses his arms again and frowns very seriously. Before Robin can open her mouth Gregor adds, “And remember that Gregor will charge for this, yes?”
Without giving her a chance to respond he bursts into uproarious laughter, clutching at his belly. “Hah! You should see your face! Will be free, just this once. A good deal, no? Best advice is, you ask whoever it is to put his head in your lap.” He nods, patting the body part in question. “Very intimate gesture. Satisfaction guaranteed.”
“Hm, head in lap. Alri- wait. Didn’t you try to get me to do that?”
“Heh.” Gregor sheepishly rubs the back of his head. “Well, I would not turn down chance to have beautiful woman’s head in lap, you know?”
Olivia:
Even if Chrom’s idea failed miserably–She made Robin feel useless, Gregor said! Sumia could just die of mortification because oh no, that’s exactly what she didn’t want to do! Can’t she do anything right!? And not that Sumia’s saying Chrom has bad ideas! But, um, well… there’s a reason they appointed Robin as the tactician, would be the most diplomatic way to say it–there’s still another side of the equation to turn to.
“Uh, Olivia, can I ask a favor?”
Olivia perks up, turning slightly to face Sumia. “Oh, hey! Sure, Sumia, what is it?”
“Could you, um, teach me how to dance?”
Olivia tries very hard not to cringe. Because cringing would be rude.
“S-sure! When do you want to start?”
Henry:
“I don’t really know why you’re asking me, ‘cause it sounds like you’ve got it all set, yaknow? Because who doesn’t love a nice old streak of blood splashed across the floor? Nothing like freshly spilled blood and sprained ankles to set the mood. Oh, and I guess you can’t go wrong with scented candles. Roses are cliche, but they’re a classic, for some reason.” Henry pauses, taps his chin thoughtfully. His entire face lights up. “Hey, you know, I actually know a traditional Plegian curse that’s perfect for romantic dates. It can turn roses into-“
Robin laughs nervously, raising her hands up. She probably does not want to know. “Thanks for the advice, Henry. I’ll keep that in mind, but maybe save the curses for later?”
“Oh, sure! Call me whenever you want!” Henry says cheerfully. “Anyway, I’m gonna go get back to training, okay? Seeya!”
As Robin walks away, she also mentally crosses Tharja off the list of people to ask for advice.
Cherche:
“Hm?” Cherche looks up from scratching Minerva’s chin, an eyebrow raised high. “Romantic gestures? Well, I suppose… in Valm, asking someone to gather firewood with you can be rather romantic. Though it’s not usually the lady doing the asking,” Cherche muses. Minerva lets out a squawk of something that could be agreement.
“Gathering firewood?” Sumia thinks on it a bit. She could suggest it to Robin at chore rotation later today… Yes, that could work. “Okay. Thanks for the help, Cherche!”
“Not a problem,” the other woman says, smiling. “I hope it goes well. Minerva and I will be cheering you on, won’t we little Minerva?” Cherche coos and scratches the wyvern behind the ears. Minerva lets out a shriek, and Cherche begins fawning over her teeth as Sumia quickly makes her way out.
After a bit of hunting she manages to catch Robin, just as the tactician is looking over the chore list for the evening.
“Firewood gathering?” Robin asks. She looks down to the list she holds in her hands. “Yes, I suppose we could. Frederick’s mostly been doing that for the past week, but we could switch it around.” After making a few marks on the task schedule, she looks up and smiles at Sumia. “And we’re all set for making camp later this evening. See you then, Sumia!”
That was… remarkably easy. Nothing ever goes this easy for Sumia. But, she does have to admit it’s kind of nice. And Robin smiled at her!
-----
“Erm, is it… that way?” Robin peers out from around a stack of dried logs that she’s carrying. “Drats, I knew we shouldn’t have strayed too far from camp.”
Sumia doesn’t really feel very romantic right now. Even without the hopelessly lost bit, there’s a rather distinct lack of romance in the air. Perhaps asking Cherche for Valmese ideas wasn’t that much of a good plan, considering that Robin is also not Valmese.
“Um, maybe.” Sumia shuffles around her own pile of firewood. “Oh, I’m so sorry, Robin! I’m worthless! I shouldn’t have suggested we go looking for more wood.”
“It’s not your fault, Sumia.” Robin gives her an encouraging smile. “And anyway, we can’t be that far off. We’re bound to find something familiar soon. And who knows, we’ll probably be able to hear camp from here if Vaike decides to challenge Chrom to another contest today. You know how they can get. Remember the cooking contest?”
Despite the situation, Sumia can’t help but giggle. Winner by knockout, she remembers that one. “Yeah,” she says. “I kind of feel sorry for Vaike.”
“I didn’t know Chrom’s cooking could be so abysmal,” Robin adds. “I mean, I’m terrible, but at least I’m not that bad.”
Something seizes Sumia then, a quick impulse and a fluttering of her heart. “I could cook for you,” she says quickly, before she gives herself a chance to second-guess. Robin tilts her head, and Sumia hopes that she’s not blushing too much. “I can bake, sort of. Do you like pie?”
“Pie sounds great, actually,” Robin says, a small smile on her lips.
“Well, well, well,” a voice interrupts, “isn’t this touching?”
Robin and Sumia whirl around, and there are three men in dark cloaks at the other end of the clearing they’re in, each brandishing sharp daggers. Sumia goes tense, and Robin immediately presses closer to her side.
“All the money in your purses, ladies,” the lead bandit says, grinning. “Or else.”
“Do you have your lance?” Robin murmurs. The bandits begin stepping closer. Sumia shakes her head, just a little.
“I didn’t bring my sword either.” Robin shifts her gaze to the pile of firewood she carries. “Looks like it’s time for a bit of practice with improvised weaponry, then.”
-----
“What is the meaning of this?”
And that’s Frederick’s voice as the man himself crashes through the underbrush, Lissa and Chrom right behind him.
Sumia’s aware of what a sight she and Robin make right now- both of them covered in scrapes and scratches, three bandits unconscious around the clearing, all the firewood they gathered now just piles of splinters at their feet. Robin drops the branch she’s holding, shrugging breathlessly.
“Brigands,” she says. “Sumia and I handled them.”
“We heard fighting and came as soon as we could,” Chrom says, lowering Falchion now that it seems the threat has been dealt with. Frederick is already moving to disarm the bandits and Lissa marches over to their side, already waving her staff about and clicking her tongue at their wounds.
Frederick is no doubt going to lecture them about this later, and they’re probably never going to be allowed on firewood duty ever again, but…
Sumia catches Robin’s eye and the other woman is smiling at her, even as Lissa’s fussing over the cuts on her arms. She smiles back.
Maybe Cherche was onto something after all.
Maribelle:
“That was great!” Sumia gushes, handing the book back to Robin. “I felt so in tune with the main character! A knight who can’t even hold a lance the right way up, catching the eye of the dashing prince and getting swept up in his arms in a whirlwind of passion! How wonderful!”
Robin grins. “I’m glad you liked it. I think I related a bit more to the prince,” she says. Subtle hints, right? That’s what Maribelle said, right?
(“Romance, like any art, is subtle, my dear friend.” There’s the ominous tapping of her parasol on her palm, like a governess prepared to deliver a very stern punishment to a misbehaving student. Robin subconsciously stands straighter. “You must lay down subtle hints that build up into a larger whole. For instance, you said she likes to read, right? And she puts herself in the shoes of the heroine? Then you do the same, but with the hero. Subtle, cultured, and elegant,” she finishes picking a book up from her bedside and pushing it into Robin’s hands.)
“Oh, really?” Sumia cocks her head. “We don’t really get to see much of him. Er, I mean, outside of, you know, sneaking up to the knight’s balcony at night. And, er, throwing gifts at her head. You know- but I’m sure that there’s just a lot that I’m missing, if you really like him so much!” she hurries to say.
Robin chuckles hesitantly, thinking briefly about Lon’qu. “I, uh-“
“Anyway, what did you think about the next part of the Wyvern Wars series? I loved how the main heroine forms such a deep and emotional bond with her wyvern! I wish I could be that close to my own pegasus, you know?”
“Y-yeah, that was… something else.” Robin’s grin might be a bit too pointed at this point. “I- uh. I liked the wyvern.”
Immediately she wants to drown herself out of mortification. The wyvern, really? But there wasn’t any dashing prince, or handsome rogue, or stoic yet caring knight in that one, and oh no, Maribelle’s advice is leaking out of her mind and she doesn’t know what to do, plans going awry, abort, abort-
“He was really cute, right? Anyway, the next book is coming out next week, and I was thinking if we could maybe go out to the bookstore tog-“
“Yes!” Robin shouts, startling Sumia into silence. Robin coughs, hiding her face. “I mean, yes! I’d love to! I’m- excited for it too!”
“Oh, that’ll be fun!” Sumia smiles. “So that’s a date! See you later, Robin!”
Sully:
“Show her something you’re interested in,” Sumia repeats under her breath. “Show her something you like.” It’s good advice. She’ll have to thank Sully later, after it works. Maybe she’d appreciate a new polish for her lance?
“Did you say something, Sumia?” Robin asks, tilting her head to the side.
“Ah, no! Um, well, we’re almost there! My pegasus is in the stall at the end of the stables. She’s a sweet girl, I’m sure she’ll like you.”
Robin smiles, but abruptly the expression freezes on her face, as if she’s just remembered something very, very important. She glances around, as if looking for a stalker. “Er, Sumia…? You wouldn’t happen to keep the pegasi in the same stables as the rest of the horses, would you?”
“Oh, yes, we do! All of the mounts are kept in the same area except for the wyverns. They need a lot more space. It makes it easier to build and dismantle when we move camps.” Sumia glances back to the other woman.
“That makes sense,” she murmurs. Clearing her throat, in a voice that is of slightly higher pitch, she adds, “Would Sully’s horse also be here?”
Sumia is suddenly aware of an angry snort coming from the stall just to Robin’s right.
“…Yes.”
Robin laughs nervously. “Well that’s really great and I’m really, really sorry about this but maybe we can do this some other time because I’m sure your pegasus is really amazing and I’m so, so sorry but I think Ihavetogonowbye!”
And with that, Robin makes a quick exit, stage left.
Pursued by horse.
Sully’s horse barges down the stall door, sending splinters flying everywhere. It neighs, stomps the ground as if in anticipation of the blood it will soon shed, and charges away, braying a war cry that’s probably audible all the way in Valm.
Sumia can still hear the faint screaming from here.
(“VAIKE SAVE ME.”
“Aw yeah Robin whaddya need? Teach is always ready to-WHAT THE HELL WHY WOULD YOU LEAD THE SHE-DEVIL’S DEMON BEAST HERE?”
“WHAT DID YOU JUST CALL MY HORSE.”)
There’s a quiet pause for about three seconds.
And then Sumia sighs.
“So much for that idea. Thanks anyway, Sully.”
Severa:
“It’s horrible,” Severa says, holding back a sniffle. “I mean, I guess I’m happy for Lucina, but it’s just not fair, you know? She gets to go on dates with Gerome and rubs it in all our faces and I don’t get-”
Sumia hands the girl a handkerchief–thank goodness she’s in the habit of carrying around more than one, to clean up any unfortunate spills–and wonders how it got to this point. Not that she dislikes helping one of her comrades out, of course. She just wonders how a conversation that began with, “Hmph, I see my mother was utterly useless in aiding you, so I’m going to pick up where she couldn’t. You’ll have Robin twisted around your pinky finger in no time!” ended up with Severa venting about Lucina’s relationship, and Severa’s own apparent lack of one.
“-I mean, Cynthia was still a loser, kind of, maybe, but she was nice and she's my loser-“
“Cynthia?”
Severa stops. “Yeah, Cynthia. Hello? Have you been listening to me at all? Cynthia’s my… g-girlfriend. If you want to call it that.” Severa blushes deeply and looks down to her hands, twisting the handkerchief round and round. “You should’ve seen Inigo’s face when I got a girlfriend before he did! Not that I would’ve had problems finding a girlfriend!”
Sumia sighs internally and resigns herself to at least another half-hour of this. If it makes Severa feel better, then… And it doesn’t hurt to know a bit more about her comrades, as it seems that Severa’s gotten in the mood to gossip.
(Later, after Sumia’s left, Severa sits there looking down at the lavender handkerchief in her hands. “I guess can sort of see where she gets her cluelessness from, now.”)
Owain (and the peanut gallery):
“This seems disingenuous,” Robin comments. Owain hushes her. “Really, Owain, maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all-“
“Nonsense!” Owain shoves the script into her hands. “My twitching sword hand has penned it all out! Just remember your lines and your cues and everything should go perfectly!”
“I- I don’t think I can memorize this,” Robin says, glancing at the pages that Owain had handed over to her. “It’d be somewhat less impressive if I had to keep referring to a sheet of paper in the middle of a dramatic speech, don’t you think?”
“Fear not, milady! Passion overcomes all obstacles! If you believe in the strength of your love, the words should spring to your mind instantly in the heat of the moment!”
“I don’t think that’s how that works,” Robin mutters, but Owain either doesn’t hear it, or is ignoring her.
“And now, the fearsome masked bandits!” Owain gestures to a nearby pack of trees with a grand flourish. “Voila!”
There’s some muttering, a few shouts, and apparently some toe-stepping and elbowing going on behind the copse. Recognizing the voices already, Robin groans. She puts a hand to her forehead, resisting the urge to just cover her face entirely with the script.
Yup. Yup, there they are, shuffling out from behind the trees. How did Owain manage to coerce Gerome into helping? Inigo and Brady, she can sort of understand, but Gerome? That’s a story that she has to hear from someone else sooner or later- perhaps Minerva knows, and she can ask Cherche for translations.
Owain nods in satisfaction. “Hark, my lady! This is the plan. The trio of masked bandits shall leap out at the fair maiden Sumia from the shadows of the woods to accost her. And that is your cue to enter the scene, yelling out a battlecry as you leap into the fray to defend her!”
“This is going to go terribly wrong,” Robin says.
“You’re tellin’ me,” Brady mutters, adjusting his mask. “My Ma’s gonna kill me if she finds out about this.”
Owain doesn’t seem to hear either of them, and begins shoving the trio back behind the trees. He grabs Robin’s arm and yanks her into a bush beside him. They hear footsteps coming closer, and Sumia’s voice humming absently as she approaches this part of her customary afternoon stroll. “And now, the play begins!”
-----
“Told ya this was a bad idea,” Brady grumbles. He lifts his staff and waves it at the giant bruise on Gerome’s jaw, already having used it to heal his own bruised backside from where Sumia threw him down to the ground. Inigo mutters something in agreement, hissing in pain as Brady accidentally jabs at the tender spot on the back of his head.
Owain frowns at the script in his hands as if it’ll tell him what went wrong. “I should’ve hired better bandits,” he concludes, setting the sheaf down.
“Hired?” Gerome snorts. “Maybe this indignity would be worth it if you were paying us anything at all.”
“Aunt Sumia has a hell of a throwing arm,” Inigo says, grimacing as Brady starts on him now. “Must be all that javelin throwing.”
Robin beams. “I know. Isn’t she amazing?”
Yarne:
“You should ask Robin if she wants to help repopulate your species.”
“…Yarne, we’re both humans.”
“Oh. Right.”
Hi, Sumia. This is Robin. I wanted to
I was wondering if you wanted to meet tomorrow. Perhaps just after breakfast, out by the southern edge of camp?
There’s been some misunderstandings, I think. And there’s something I want to tell you directly.
“Um,” says Sumia. “Robin?”
“Oh!” The tactician whirls around, an uneasy grin on her face. “Good morning, Sumia!” she chirps, voice strained artificially high.
Sumia smiles nervously. “Um, you left me a note in my tent,” she says. “You wanted to talk about something? You said misunderstandings?” Oh gods, oh gods, this is the part where Robin tells her that she doesn’t want to be Sumia’s friend anymore, that Robin hates her and she’s a mess and a disgrace to the army-
Robin takes a deep breath. Sumia tries not to cringe.
“I- like you.”
Sumia blinks. That was not what she was expecting at all.
“Um, I was- I was going around camp and asking people for advice? On how to confess, I mean. And things really didn’t work out. I’m sorry about the chocolates that time- I swear I didn’t know you were allergic to cranberries.” Robin looks miserable as she continues, “And there was that time when Brady, Gerome, and Inigo dressed up as bandits and pretended to attack you- that was Owain’s idea, I swear I didn’t know he was going to do that.”
Robin stops there, frowning at herself. “And, I guess I’m a bit tired of not being able to get things right. So I wanted to tell you, in person. I wanted to tell you that you’re brave and beautiful and kind, Sumia, and I want you to know that I love you.”
The last words come out in a rush, and Robin’s face is bright pink. She swallows and looks up, and Sumia can’t help it: she laughs.
It’s a breathless giggle, small and endlessly relieved- but it looks like Robin’s taking the wrong message from it, eyes widening in alarm and gaze dropping, so Sumia has to quickly clarify, “Wait, wait please, Robin, I’m not laughing at you- I- I’m just… I’m happy. I- I love you too.”
There’s hope written on every inch of Robin’s expression. “Y-you do?”
“I was kind of doing the same thing as you,” Sumia says. “When I twisted my ankle that one time, I was asking Olivia for dance lessons, and there was that time with Sully’s horse…” She giggles again when Robin’s face twists at that particular recollection. “I mean, I was… afraid, I guess. You know me, poor awkward Sumia who can’t do anything right, so I thought that maybe if I just followed what other people did to confess then things would turn out all right. But that’s not how it worked, and it kind of turned into a big mess…”
“I’ll say,” Robin says, fighting down a short laugh. “So I guess we were both just dancing around each other all this time?”
“I guess so.” Sumia sighs in relief. “Oh, thank goodness it’s finally all out. I don’t think I could’ve handled another failure.”
“Me either,” Robin admits. She hesitates, and then takes a step closer. If possible, she’s even redder than Sumia is. “S-so… can I kiss you?”
Sumia nods, afraid that if she says anything that it’ll break the illusion, that this will all turn out to be a dream or a spell or something-
But Robin’s lips are on hers, a tiny kiss, short and shy and sweet. And it’s perfect.
??? and ???:
Robin holds up her hand, and the party stops behind her. There are voices and rustling in the underbrush.
“Come on Morgan, stick close to me! well be at the village in no time.”
“I still don’t know how you know my name but you haven’t attacked me yet, so sure.”
“We’ll get out of here soon! And get your memories back too! Man, I really thought he was the real deal, but he just turned out to be a lying jerk.”
“…Chrom has blue hair.”
Everyone turns back to glance to the prince in question, who just frowns in confusion. He shrugs with a shoulder, readying Falchion. Everyone else follows his cue, readying their weapons. This might be a distraction for an ambush, or advance scouts sent ahead by some roaming band of thieves...
“…Let’s not mention that fact when we recount our epic tale of saving the day!”
“Sure. You know, you’re a pretty cool sister. Now I want to get my memories back too!”
The rustling of leaves and branches are growing closer, the voices louder. Sumia is right by Robin’s side, their fingertips just barely brushing.
Three figures break through the leaves, chattering excitedly. A girl, wide-eyed, a lance over her shoulder and a pegasus on a lead. A boy in an oversized, familiar, cloak, a thick book clutched tightly to his chest.
There’s a gasp that Robin vaguely identifies as Severa, the choked-off start of a name (“Cyn-!”) but it’s immediately drowned out as both newcomers chorus the same word, eyes lighting up in glee.
“MOTHER!”