Evie
I'm growing up, but I'm not growing old
Evie will certainly not apologize or cease in her belief in him, so his deprecation merely earns a playfully wrinkled nose. Given the humorous nature of the topic she isn't expecting his rebuttal to be so easy and sincere, even with the pun cleverly included. Blinking, taken aback, Evie lapses into temporary silence to consider it. It's instinctive to jokingly claim being bad at something but maybe she really would be good at it. "I suppose I have cared for countless children at all sorts of ages." Newborns with pneumonia, toddlers with ear infections, growing tots with skinned knees. She'd always enjoyed it, which was why she'd been honest with Deimos about someday wanting one of their own, but she'd never considered her experience without a medical lens attached. "Though they'd likely have a second crib in the greenhouse." She grins unrepentantly, concealing the fact that she'd likely just create a little hollow of soil for the babe to be near her while she worked.
Given he'd been busy with the newborns she doesn't bother asking if the Olsons had enjoyed their gifts, assuming they'd been set aside (and fairly so). But she does make a scandalized noise when Deimos consumes the first concoction, vexed that she can't put Micah to the side to exact her revenge. "A waste is what it is. They're far better with the chocolate and crackers." But she will reluctantly exercise her patience, though she wiggles her stick at him belligerently in the hopes he'll put the marshmallow on for her.
It's no surprise he flushes, but even amusement has no place in her chest with how overbearingly loving she feels. His grin merely prompting a lovesick smile, eyes so tender they're practically writing sonnets in the silence of him adjusting. She knows what his answer is, but hearing it makes it all the more meaningful. "I'm glad," she murmurs, and leans forward to meet him in what she expects to be a kiss - and it is, but not where she'd anticipated. Groaning a laugh, she pushes him backwards and swipes at her nose. "Must you ruin the moment?" It's clear from her dimples and shaking shoulders that she doesn't mean it, charmed by his boyishness.
Given he'd been busy with the newborns she doesn't bother asking if the Olsons had enjoyed their gifts, assuming they'd been set aside (and fairly so). But she does make a scandalized noise when Deimos consumes the first concoction, vexed that she can't put Micah to the side to exact her revenge. "A waste is what it is. They're far better with the chocolate and crackers." But she will reluctantly exercise her patience, though she wiggles her stick at him belligerently in the hopes he'll put the marshmallow on for her.
It's no surprise he flushes, but even amusement has no place in her chest with how overbearingly loving she feels. His grin merely prompting a lovesick smile, eyes so tender they're practically writing sonnets in the silence of him adjusting. She knows what his answer is, but hearing it makes it all the more meaningful. "I'm glad," she murmurs, and leans forward to meet him in what she expects to be a kiss - and it is, but not where she'd anticipated. Groaning a laugh, she pushes him backwards and swipes at her nose. "Must you ruin the moment?" It's clear from her dimples and shaking shoulders that she doesn't mean it, charmed by his boyishness.
And I hate to do anything that I've been told
