Alina gently exhaled, letting go of the surprise she felt inside.
Louis didn't interrupt, just stood behind Mike, with a casual and gentle demeanor, letting Mike talk endlessly.
In front of the glass were two small figures.
Orsus and Isaac.
The five-year-old Orsus was on his tiptoes, breathing against the glass.
The eight-year-old Isaac stretched his arms, trying to draw a circle larger than himself.
Their fingertips traced arcs on the glass, leaving behind brief mist marks that were quickly erased by the warmth.
After Isaac finished drawing, he habitually glanced back at Louis.
There was no fear in his eyes, nor any cautious attempts to please, just a bit of pure anticipation, as if waiting for a review: "Did I draw well?"
Louis didn't scold them "Don't make it dirty," nor did he show any sternness of an elder.
He casually took the young girl Sif handed over, holding the two-year-old with one hand, and walked up to the glass himself.
