Golden Glade morbid stuff

Just a little bit of babbling. Time had a habit of flying so he half expected them to suddenly start explaining the meaning of the world at any instant -- he wouldn't be surprised.  But Orr wasn't gonna suddenly dictate the complete works of Shakespeare right now, but at that little pout, he couldn't help himself. Aw.  It'll grow back.

But then his son plopped on down next to him.  Yeah, all good, he replied to the bit of almost-parroting.  Quixote did his best owl impression at Orr, tipping his head as far around as he could without moving too much.  One ear squished awkwardly into the ground and it gave him a rather goofy, squished expression without much effort on his part.  So whatcha gonna do?  He and his sisters were still too small for him to feel comfortable trying to do anything resembling roughhousing, but he'd settle for trying to dredge up a smile or a bit of gnawing on a paw or nose -- totally a tolerable part of being a father.