"Non sono noioso!" Mateo says, and if Remi had been looking at his adult-son, this would have been accompanied by a dramatic gasp of outrage. "Non è noioso voler fare amicizia. E non è noioso volere un papà che non spaventi tutti!" More bruised and hurt than he expects to be, the boy's young mind is consumed with a flare of temper that his body feels too little to hold onto.
And as Remi snaps the rake and tries to calm himself down, Mateo flings his own against a nearby tree. It doesn't break, but it does clatter to the ground. "I did," he mutters, before turning and cromching away into the woods, almost annoyed that it's Flowerbirth and that there are no more leaves to kick.
And as Remi snaps the rake and tries to calm himself down, Mateo flings his own against a nearby tree. It doesn't break, but it does clatter to the ground. "I did," he mutters, before turning and cromching away into the woods, almost annoyed that it's Flowerbirth and that there are no more leaves to kick.
