James McLane

“You should have more faith in your father!” was the response as their door swung wide open. A tall, darkly tanned, and muscular man stood in the doorway, the young kid from yesterday riding on his shoulder. This man’s eyes twinkled a dark blue, wrinkling a wiry curled mustache under his nose, his front teeth bucked and mouse-like.

“Phil, my boy, does that young girlie look like she’d even hurt the tiniest fly?” The boy had covered his eyes upon entrance with his hands, only to lower them to see Sūraja waving at him with a cheeky smile. “You know what little buddy? I’m betting that her and yer mom are havin’ a lend on ya. That way wouldn’t be acting like a little hoon to them.”

The man flipped Phil over his shoulders so that way the boy touched the ground, the boy quickly hiding behind his father’s leg. He chuckled at this in a loud voice introduced himself. “The name’s James McLane and this here ankle biter is my son, Philip. Jugdin’ by his aversion of you dollies, he’s hasn’t introduced himself yet?” He stepped forward, pulling the little one along, to give them all a proper handshake.

Petricia’s was strong and firm—“Good on ya, love. Nice to see such a strong shortie,”—James all but propelling Alicia in the air and finally bowing to Sūraja. “Namaskāra.” The chocolate skinned fayri’s eyes shone with a wide smile on her face.

“Tumamērī  mātrphā’a bōlatē hal?”

He grinned with a nodded, as he sat himself down on the floor. “Old mate of mine comes from that area. Craziest bastard I ever did meet and a beaut of a fighter.”

By now, Phil had inched close Sūraja, less afraid now that his father had approached her and seemed to know something about her.

Too bad he got just within her reach: he yelped as she grabbed him and started tickling him furiously, gently nibbling his ear with her fangs as she had done her siblings so long ago. Smiles lit around the room, Phil’s childish laughter echoing throughout the room.

The End

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