… Uncle? She looked nothing like him, but then Aslan and Nisa had taken dramatically after their father and mother respectively. His gaze shifted to Nisa when Nettie mentioned having told her all about him. Fuck fuck fuck. What did she know? Did she know where to find him if she decided coughing was too offensive?

If she noticed something, anything, that hinted at more than just-met? He tried to pretend he wasn’t eagerly eavesdropping on every word out of Nettie’s mouth, even as Nisa quietly weighed just how much she wanted to kill him this given evening.

Then that deep, smooth voice spoke again, and he allowed himself to turn his head to acknowledge it. Aslan set an arm easily about her shoulders, in part to get ahead of her habit of hanging like an unbreakable manacle off his arm.

“Ah, no – I apologize,” he answered with a practiced gentle. “I’m sure I’m not easy to be around right now. I’ll be right as rain in the morning.”

Then there was Malachi, singing that same swan song: let him die, it was fine, he never wanted to deal with a career change anyway.

“I’m sure they can spare you some water, Father,” Aslan laughed, though there was a judgmental look behind it. “Besides – it is not the best street to be found lurking alone.”

Which likely meant nothing to Malachi ‘I’m going to wander into an alley and get mugged’ Brennan, but he was more than happy to utilize his niece’s concern.