Azhar was pulled along willingly, and as she went on and on he was saved from having to fight the indulgent smile threatening to split his face by the arrival of the servant he had stopped before, now bearing a red-and-black lacquered tray on which some fresh-baked bread steaming gently. "Thank you," he said before giving the servant a dismissive wave, the pertinant details about 'that stupid common boy' Zuma was so upset about stored away for later. He doubted it was terribly serious, but he looked out for his girls. The servant bowed and backed away, and Azhar turned back to his daughter.
He broke the loaf in his hands and gave half to Zuma. "No, Zuma, you can't keep one in your room. They're happier here, in the water and with their mother." One hand tore a tiny piece of crust off and tossed it into the water, where other the turtle-duckings then immediately converged. Azhar then threw another slightly larger piece to the mother. There had been turtle-ducks in this pond for as long as he could remember and he hoped they would remain long after he was gone.
He crouched and rested his hand on the surface of the water, fingertips sporting some bread pieces while he kept himself completely and utterly still. His golden eyes he half-closed and tried to not stare at the turtle-ducklings for fear of coming across as too predatory. Not that he really had to fear for the turtle-ducks were as tame as anything. The turtle-ducklings were hesitant, but the mother swam right up and delicately nibbled the bread, her bill just barely brushing skin. Azhar smiled and lifted his hand very slowly so he could lightly touch the smooth feathers of her head.