The Hurricane had... been a lot.
A lot of things lately have been a lot.
Really, just everything's a lot.
Even today's been a lot.
Rafael comes down the stairs from fixing his hundredth or so light fixture toilet bomb combo and keys his way into the door of the suite they've been sharing for almost half a year now, spies Theo playing with Diego on the playmat, and plants a kiss on the top of her head as he passes, moving into the little kitchenette for long enough to hastily assemble some bread and some cheese and some ham. He watches them play while he does, and once he's got it together, he joins pads once more across the room, sandwich on plate and butt on floor.
He hunches over, shrimps up, and rests his chin on his hand and his elbow on his knee while he, silently, watches his fiancé play with his son.
Eventually she seems to notice he's doing a bit more thinking than watching and lets Diego toddle over to a playset and get to work... doing whatever he does with that thing.
Rafa watches him for a second, then looks, sidelong, to Theo. "So uh... babe, I've uh, I've been thinkin'..."
who: @sloedownwulf where: The Cliffsides
