❝Young enough that I couldn’t say more than a few words,❞ Syx’s cheeks lavendered a bit as he laughed, ❝Just over a year and a half. Actually, I was really so to talk… they worried a lot about that,❞ he frowned thoughtfully at his drink, ❝I wonder if it was just the difference in vocal cords or just a species difference…❞
Shaking his head because it wasn’t really something that mattered more than idle curiosity, he dropped his elbow on the table and brushed his knee against Harrison’s as they sat side by side, ❝How about you? What was the most destruction you caused as a tyke?❞
“Well Devin isn’t talking yet either, though he can sign like a pro. I’ll let you know when he finally does,” Harrison offers, always happy to brag about his son. “As for me, gosh, I was never one for blowing things up. Especially not before I was verbal. At that age I wanted to be an artist like my father. I did draw on the walls…. quite a bit actually,” he says with a sheepish grin. “And paint on them. I went through a terribly pretentious abstract phase.”
At that moment the waiter returns and takes their empty entree plates away. If he minds that Harrison has moved his seat, the blue man doesn’t notice. Syx has his complete attention. At least until he sees what is left in its place.
“Ooooooh!!” Harrison squealed, clapping like a small child. “Syx look, deserts!”
Syx chuckled in amusement picturing the young Harrison and his artwork, ❝I learned very early to stick to paper for my drawings but every inch of my cell was covered in drawings.❞
His eyes were just as locked on Harrison but his uncomfortableness with others, made him shift and glance towards the waiter when he heard the footsteps. He always struggled to relax fully when strangers were around.
The sight of the desert had his eyes widening, mouth falling into an ‘o’ of delight, ❝I don’t even know what that is and it looks de-lite-ful.❞
RP backup 