"Hey, Pietro," Lorna called over to her co-worker-- her brother, as she had recently discovered. Pietro lowered the novel he'd half-finished in the past half hour. "Yes, Lorna?" "If it's not too... Weird of a question: what was your adopted dad like? His name was Django, right?" She sat down on the sofa opposite of the white-haired man, placing a set of coffees she'd made for the two of them down on the small table between them. "Yes..." He paused, taking a sip of his drink and mulling over the inquiry. "What makes you ask?" Lorna tucked a lock of curly green hair behind her ears, hoping the action would take away from the awkwardness of her not making eye contact. "Well, my parents are my aunt and uncle-- they're the only parents I've ever known. My uncle, he was always so overprotective--with me and my mom. And we both know how Erik is; as much as he's tried, I don't think you're very much like him-- you're too quiet. I mean, yeah, you've got the temper, but uh... We've all seen Wanda when she's mad." She joined in Pietro's chuckle, looking over her older brother. "I wanna know how your dad was. Like, you must have gotten some of your personality and parenting skills from him-- I've seen how good you are with Luna. Was Django like that?" Pietro sighed and put the book fully down. He took up his cup of coffee and looked into his reflection--as much as he wanted to believe Lorna's comment about not being like his birth father, he saw too much of him in there. He thought back to his childhood--to Marya and Django. "Django... He was a kind, hard-working man. He made what living he could as a carpenter/contractor--fixing up houses and barns, but he spent what down time he had making toys. He was especially skilled at making marionettes: the little puppets on strings that you control by pulling on them... He would put on plays for the local children almost every evening. God, the stories he would tell-- princesses and dragons, witches and kings, even stories about love and death. The children loved them; I loved them. I would sit and listen to his stories every chance I could, even if I'd already heard them." Pietro let out a sudden burst of laughter, taking Lorna by surprise. She sat and watched with amusement as the normally reserved man struggled to regain his composure. After a few moments, Pietro wiped a tear from the corner of his eyes. "I'm sorry, I just remembered something... When I was very small--probably five or so-- he convinced me that if I could put salt on a bird's tail, it wouldn't be able to fly anymore and I could catch it. He gave me the salt shaker and turned me loose in the camp. God, I ran around for hours trying to catch them." He started hissing with laughter, letting the memory wash over him. Lorna started laughing, too. It wasn't every day she got to see this poor guy anything other than frustrated or sad. She imagined what he would have looked like as a child, running around chasing birds with a salt shaker. The thoughts of it made her laugh harder.
