Who: Marcus, Molly, and open
Where: A park within walking distance of his house
When: Mid-afternoon
Walking with the Little Miss was becoming his favorite thing. At nine months old, she was still getting the hang of putting one foot in front of the other. He was bent almost double, strong hand wrapped around hers as she watched her own feet. Lifting one almost straight up and flopping it forward, swinging her weight onto it, wobbling a moment, and repeating with the other foot.
Molly had the most amazed grin on her face as she went along through the damp grass, blades poking up between her toes with each step. Every few moments she would break concentration to look up at Daddy, and promptly topple over onto her stomach.
Never a tear, she was more comfortable on all fours, anyway. One of these times, she stayed down, reaching through the grass with tiny hands, patting it. Her hands were now muddy, and Marcus had to intercept them going straight into her mouth. He scooped her up and walked her to a bench to clean her off.
Oh the horror. She squealed and struggled, fighting off the terrible washcloth. He chuckled at the protest and kissed her clean hands before setting her back on her feet. He held her hands, his elbows on his knees to let her walk around a short radius. He was done walking for a bit.
Grey eyes flicked up and watched others passing by. Strangers didn't make him nervous exactly, but they still made him uncomfortable. Especially now, with his secret out. Yes, it had been a relief to stop hiding his other life, but he knew all too well what fear and hate could cause a person to do.
A bird landed some ten feet off, and Molly squealed with excitement and began babbling away at it. She loved birds, and with good reason. Marcus chuckled and let go of her hands so she could chase it.
He fell back against the bench's back, fingers laced behind his head to watch her.