one smart cookie

When we was young, oh man, did we have fun?
Always, always

Marcus blinked, taken off guard by the sheer force of Erebos’s enthusiasm (and Belial’s, which was somehow worse,though not unfamiliar). Snow sprayed across his boots as the boy landed, and Marcus lifted a hand to shield his face from the powder. "Meeting, huh?" Marcus echoed, "Figures." He was sure Deimos did not want to be there, which was solidified by the boy's next words. He couldn't remember the word, but perhaps it was distraction?  

The kid was taller now, sharper in the cheekbones, voice steadier but still bright as sunlight. It wa a lot. Not in a bad way. It felt odd, looking down at the wild-haired Ignatius and thinking that this is how other Halovians had looked at him not that long ago. Deimos was protective, borderline terrifying about it sometimes--Evie, even moreso. The idea of them signing off on magical aging felt wild.

So, he wondered, if the visit had been as accidental as he and Margot's first.

He stepped closer, eyeing the boy with an incredulous squint. "You grew," he said bluntly, because subtlety had never been his strong suit. "Like—overnight." His gaze flicked to Belial, as if the peryton might confirm it with another bout of chaos.

Promises, they break before they're made
Sometimes, sometimes

Marcus