“Mia.” Arching an eyebrow at the sky, Leif tapped a hand on his shoulder and was vaguely relieved when his familiar actually took a seat without him needing to tell her twice. It was more than bothersome when she insisted on taking herself indoors and he was a little preoccupied listening for anyone approaching the door. The person about to open it could only be Linnea and not just because the others were either in school or asleep. Out of the entire family she was the only one whose thoughts he could very rarely hear. Not unless she was upset, although anger often made them easier to separate. Real heightened negative emotion. Although there a point somewhere in between her mental radio silence and the nonsensical spitting out of random thoughts where her mind seemed to... reverberate with whatever it was she was thinking. It reminded him of when he was a child - which again, was not something he wanted to be reminded of just as she opened the door to him - and she and Jokull argued. It had given him a headache then and there was every chance it would do now. “Morning.” Leif managed to nod in what was actually a fairly agreeable manner for him, still perplexed by what was going on inside Linnea’s head. It was like that sound told terrestrial televisions made when they turned off, only continuous and impossible to drown out. His familiar’s shifting on his shoulder really did not help.
The weight of the container in his other hand made his movements into the house awkward. Fitting, since he was starting to feel it. “A sweet tea would be great, actually.” He was not one to care that it was generally requested for shock or to help one sleep or something similar. His blood sugar was low and given enough time he was going to start looking like he should be on his deathbed. “But I can... leave the ward for later,” he decided after a moment and an oddly approving feather-ruffling from Miakoda. “Then you needn’t feel you ought to stay while I finger paint.” An awkward wave at the giant bottle, then his fingers pressed to his temple. That was quite possibly the nicest way he had ever told anybody they could go away before. He was blaming that something coming from her, despite the fact he knew that did not make sense. “Mia, if you want something, speak now or forever be quiet.”
‘No, but thank you for offering, Linnea.’
“Speaking of quiet,” Leif started, setting the bottle down in a corner out of the way. “Your head isn’t.” After the best part of three decades, he did not think he need to point out the implications there. But he would if he really had to. Or he would just make her stick her hands under the tap and hope that noise went away.