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Marcus Flint (marcedflint) wrote in finnigans_rpg,

Marcus specifically had avoided thinking about all the possibilities of his mothers illness. It was easier to take things one day at a time, though in all honesty he should probably start preparing himself for the fact that Phillipa might not be around for much longer. But he had no idea how to handle that line of thought - when his father had died, it had been sudden, though not entirely unsurprising. "I know," he said quietly. "There's a part of me that thinks I should have had her moved there a long time ago, but..." But he hadn't. For any number of reasons, though none of them seemed to come to him now that he'd finally gone through with it.

Echoing her sigh with one of his own, Marcus considered his answer. Back during the war, the idea had occurred to him frequently, though he wouldn't have known where to go or what to do with himself, not to mention that he was certain his father would have tracked him down, so nowhere would have been safe. "Not anymore," he told her truthfully, because, "even with all this, things are better than they used to be. And I'm... content, with life as it is now."

Pressing a light kiss to Bryony's curls, Marcus pulled away as he said, "Come on, let me feed you before I feel like a bad host." He smiled after making the comment, a gentle mockery of the rules they'd both been raised on about having guests.