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“Are you standing on a box, Belmont?” Alucard asked, grinning at the crate on the floor.
“Shut up.” Trevor rolled his eyes, fussing with the high collar of his shirt.
Sypha finished adjusting her pearls and narrowed her eyes at them in warning.
“Is your ego really so fragile?” Alucard teased anyway. “Can't stand to be immortalized as you are?”
“It's a Belmont family portrait. And I'm the Belmont,” Trevor muttered petulantly.
“Ah yes,” Alucard chuckled. “Big special day for our big special boy—who needs to stand on a box.”
“Do you see what I have to deal with?” Sypha huffed in Italian, addressing the older, bearded man who was nudging the books and lilies arranged on the table for the fifth time.
He just nodded and smiled, knowing better than to get involved.
“And what is that supposed to mean, anyway?” she switched back to Romanian. “The Belmont? I didn't spend nine months carrying our child for you to—”
“And I'm going to be carrying them for the nine hours we're going to be standing here for this thing,” he argued in his defense. Then—realizing how weak an argument it was—he tacked on, “…Weighs a bloody ton now, so it pretty much evens out.”
Sypha and Alucard glared at him both.
“…You are unbelievable sometimes,” Alucard shook his head. “…Standing on a box for your family portrait.”
“Look:” Trevor huffed. “We agreed I go in the middle. So I should be the tallest. It's about creating a balanced composition or whatever. Right?” He asked, looking to the painter for support, but the man didn't understand.
He simply fussed with the lilies one last time and made his way back over to the canvas.
“…Actually,” Alucard cut in, “symmetrical portraits are becoming rather passé, and my friend here is in fact a pioneer of creating compositions that use asymmetrical balance. Makes the painting feel more dynamic.”
Trevor rolled his head back and sighed. “God, you're insufferable when you come back from traveling.”
“And you're insufferable all the time.”
“…Three children,” Sypha clipped, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I have three children.”
“You look great at least?” Greta offered weakly from where she was waiting by the canvas, bouncing the baby on her hip.
Sypha couldn't help but smile at her child. “…Give them to me,” she said, reaching her hands out.
Greta carried them over and carefully transferred them into her arms, the baby's tiny hands already grasping at the pearls she'd just neatly arranged.
“I love you,” Sypha cooed, offering her finger to pull instead. “I love you. My perfect angel, you don't drive mama crazy like these two, do you?”
The baby babbled and smiled, rejecting the offered finger and tugging at the pearls again.
“Hey, hey, hey—” Sypha tutted, holding them at a distance. “not those. Not those.” The baby tugged them, tightening the string around her neck. “No, let's not choke Mama.”
Alucard extended his arms, offering to hold the baby for her.
“Okay. Off to Alucard,” Sypha agreed, handing them over. “Greta,” she called over her shoulder, “are you sure you don't want to be in the portrait?”
She shook her head profusely, the color of her cheeks deepening. “No, no,” she chuckled, fixing Sypha's pearls for her. “I don't envy any of you right now.”
Trevor cleared his throat. “So um… how long do I have to stand here again?”
“What's the matter?” Alucard asked, smiling warmly at the baby as he cradled them gently in his arms. “…Not used to the weather up there?”
“You’re just bent about being the shorter one for once,” Trevor rolled his eyes. “So who's got the fragile ego now?”
Alucard ignored him, cooing at the baby as they tugged on his hair. Greta came up at his side to admire them with him, placing a hand on his arm. He smiled at her, and she wrangled his hair out of the baby's grip before pecking him on the cheek.
“Look at you…” she whispered, tucking the tendril of hair behind his ear. “And so handsome,” she added with a wink before booping the baby's nose and stepping back.
Trevor shifted on his feet, standing taller and putting a hand on Sypha's shoulder.
“You’re handsome, too,” Sypha assured.
“What? I wasn't—” he huffed. “I just don't know what to do with my hands. I don't wanna look like a floating head behind you two.”
“You're not going to look like a floating head!” She groaned. “You're gonna be holding the baby!”
The baby found Alucard's lock of hair again and tugged sharply at the end of it.
“Ow!” he winced.
“Serves you right,” Trevor said.
The painter cleared his throat, and they all looked ahead to find him waiting.
“Oh,” they all realized in unison, Trevor and Sypha shuffling on their feet and getting into position while Alucard coaxed the baby into letting go of his hair so he could hand them to Trevor.
“There you are,” Trevor smiled, eyes already softening with fatherly warmth and affection as he took his child into his arms. “Come to papa…” he whispered.
Within seconds, they were reaching for Alucard again.
"Hey now, wait—ugh," Trevor gave up and let them. "Fine. Pull his hair, I guess"
Alucard grinned, too honored to mind. "...See? Alucard is still their favorite," he said, and turned ahead toward the painter.
The man clasped his hands together, taking in the sight of them with a smile. “Pronto, Signore Alucard?”
“Grazie, Leonardo,” Alucard bowed his head. “I believe we're ready.”