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Marcus Flint (marcedflint) wrote in finnigans_rpg,

"Sure," Marcus said, a little surprised that she would offer the painting up so freely. There was actually a place on one of the walls of his living room that the canvas would fit perfectly. "You know I'm always happy to have your artwork." At least, he hoped that she was aware of that, after all these years and the fact that it was one of her drawings he'd chosen to have permanently on his skin.

He was glad to already be looking down at the food when that question was asked, sure that the tumult of emotions he was hit with would show on his face or his eyes. Marcus had asked because he'd need the reassurance of her company, and while he wanted to talk about the revelations his mother had shared the day before, he couldn't quite bring himself to even consider revealing anything about Tristan. That piece of his history was an old wound that he didn't want to open himself up to again, no matter if it was his fault or that Phillipa had known about it all along.

Still, he couldn't not say something, so Marcus explained quietly, "She recognized me yesterday. Not as my father, or the person who makes her tea, but actually as her son."