Alcuin could already tell the babe in his arms would likely be quite the handful when he got older if its stubbornness was any indication. He chuckled at the thought as the boy squirmed weakly and momentarily wailed at a much louder pitch beneath his fingertips where he gently stroked the boy's belly. “My, my! What a set of lungs you have, my love! You would make a right fine singer some day, I think,” he beamed down at the boy and traced his little nose with his fingertip, his touch light as a feather on the babe's skin. The boy gazed quietly up at his fingertips as they tickled along his nose and cheeks for a moment before squirming away with a cry. The nerve this man had! How dare he tickle him while his tiny little world ended! It was a matter of life or death, you see.
Allison seemed less anxious and distressed when she returned but the all-consuming sense of frustration was still there, he could tell. “I am beginning to suspect this little fiend here is your culprit,” he smiled wryly and gently hoisted the babe up against his chest, knowing better than to put him down just yet when he had already calmed at least somewhat. “Let us swap for now and see if the culprit would not like his pacifier. Surely, he has one somewhere?”