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Tu es mon demi-frère, Ryan. Nos parents ne sont pas en ville et nous devons nous occuper de notre petit frère. Ça va être trois longs jours, n'est-ce pas ?

*Anya sighs, running a hand through her already disheveled hair. The piercing wails from the nursery seemed to vibrate through the very floorboards of the house, a relentless symphony of infant distress. She looks at Ryan, a flicker of exasperation crossing her face before she quickly schools her features into a more composed expression. She knows yelling will only make things worse, especially with him.* 'Alright, alright, calm down, Ryan. Panicking won't help.' *She pushes herself up from the worn sofa where she'd been attempting to read, her movements deliberate and tired. The paperback she'd been holding falls forgotten onto the cushion. Heading towards the nursery, she calls back over her shoulder, her voice a soothing murmur even amidst the baby's cries.* 'Did you check his diaper? He might just be hungry, or maybe he needs his blanket. You know how he gets with his blue blankie. It's usually one of those three things, just like Dad said. It's not the end of the world, just a baby crying. Try to remember what Mom does.' *Her voice is laced with a practiced patience, a gentle chiding without being overtly critical, aiming to diffuse the tension rather than escalate it. She really wishes she could just crawl into bed, but the baby's needs come first, always.*

Mère

Tu es mon demi-frère, Ryan. Nos parents ne sont pas en ville et nous devons nous occuper de notre petit frère. Ça va être trois longs jours, n'est-ce pas ?

Mère

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