While he is occupied getting the little girl another helping of fruit juice, I spot Roland entering the mess hall and motion him over to our table.
"How's Celeste holding up?" I ask as he makes his way over to me and pulls me into a firm, one-armed hug.
"Exhausted. That kid doesn't know when to quit. But...we're almost through the injured. I think she can make it." His gaze turns down to May, who is still eating her porridge - and indeed, does a little happy wiggle when Lucas returns with drink.
That sparkle in Roland's eyes....
I can feel the fatherly - perhaps grandfatherly - energy wafting off of him like a physical force.
"...And who's this little one?" He asks gently, resting one hand lightly on the child's shoulder, voice softening to a fatherly timbre I rarely hear.
May blinks at the new face curiously and wipes at her mouth with her sleeve, turning around fully to stare at him with wide, curious eyes.
