MATEO
Mateo's mouth opens to argue, two points of colour high in his cheeks, because of course Remi is right and he hates admitting it. He isn't a young boy, he's nearly grown up (he wishes), and his ego is taking a thorough bruising all of a sudden in this conversation. Indeed, were he really grown up, the first part of his father's question would have been easily dealt with; nothing more than a scoff and a shrug and a what people do with things I make after they leave is none of my business.
But the second part? The part where someone might break in and steal things from his greenhouse? "Would people really do that?" he asks, half whispering and chewing at the inside of his cheek. "Even if they did not know what they were doing with the things they stole?" That strikes a nerve. Swallowing hard, he nods to his father, officially chastised.
"I guess I was just comparing it to the things that Frey does. They make new things all the time, and they aren't always safe. It is just how nature works, right?"
But the second part? The part where someone might break in and steal things from his greenhouse? "Would people really do that?" he asks, half whispering and chewing at the inside of his cheek. "Even if they did not know what they were doing with the things they stole?" That strikes a nerve. Swallowing hard, he nods to his father, officially chastised.
"I guess I was just comparing it to the things that Frey does. They make new things all the time, and they aren't always safe. It is just how nature works, right?"
the earth has music for those who listen
