Silver Creek white hats

holy shitballs i'm sorry to keep you waiting this long

Well, it isn't up to him, now, is it? Only Grayson is the arbiter of her womb this season. Still, she gives him the barest of smiles, nodding. I hope so, Addison says. As for their names. . .something strong for the men, and beautiful for the women. I thought, perhaps, one boy could be named for Papa, though Grayson—or you—might want that as well.

Madison, Jefferson. . . Though perhaps they should leave the -son suffix behind. Keep it as a hallmark of their litter. She likes the idea of old-fashioned names, or monikers from her childhood stories.

She scans the horizon, noting the sun is lower than when they had began speaking. I must keep an appointment with Lilah, she lies, unsure of how else to end the awkward-at-best conversation with her brother. Thank you, again, for the meal, Harrison. I am glad to see you again, and in such good health. It is stilted but not unkind, and she even gives him a soft look before bidding him adieu.