Stavanger Bay 8 dogs 8 banjos (Optional Packtivity)

daddy!arturo mode activated. :p

Szymon appeared after Lagertha and Doe had shared their stories, a second child trailing after the light coated Cairn man. Yet, as the other girl had settled near Atoll this child went out of her way to put distance between the Cairn, his mate and the other girl. Going so far as to approach Arturo himself who watched the girl draped in obsidian broken by her white throat and the soft peppering of grey upon her back, with shy ocher colored eyes. For a moment he was left breathless, for while she did not physically resemble any of his grown children he was reminded so much of them at her age. It made Arturo realize with a sudden and overpowering pang that he missed being a father. Of course, he was still his children's father but they did not need him anymore, not the way that young pups needed their parents. If he had to guess she was about three to four months old; still plenty young.

The gangster's hardened gaze softened as he ducked his head towards her, fixing her in his fiery red-orange gaze when she plopped her little bum down before him and whispered her greeting to him. “Hello child,” The gangster murmured in his deep voice, lowering his own volume, an amused albeit warm smile tugging at the corners of his lips. If there was one thing that Arturo had a weakness for it was children. He was pretty sure that if he had any sort of redeeming quality it would be his own children. His paternal instincts were not something that would ever go away, and it was quickly apparent that those paternal feels were not limited to his own spawn.

“I am Arturo,” He introduced himself to her in a consistent volume to his greeting, tuning out everyone but the child who had appeared to have given him her undivided attention. “We're sharing stories little one,” He informed her, unsure of if she'd been told about the activity or not. He, himself, had nothing to tell: stories were not really his forte (and truly he was bad at bedtime stories, too). “You can share a tale with the group, too, if you'd like.” He encouraged her softly, though he would not push. His own children had loved making up stories and sharing them with ...anything that would listen. He'd once heard one of them telling a story about a dragon to a tree (or perhaps it had been an imaginary friend); but it was her own comfort level that mattered and if she did not feel comfortable sharing then, of course, Arturo would accept that. He only thought he'd do the fatherly good thing and encourage her in case she might want to share.