Re: Kitsch
Lorna smirked, though her eyes were narrowed toward her husband, who had taken her excellent burn with more ham than the main course even had. After putting a modest amount of food on her plate, perhaps she'd taste tested a bit too much, Lorna's left hand ducked below the table and ensnared Morgan's right. The mistress of magnetism pulled the cyberpath's fingers from her thigh and held his hand, lovingly, between them. They were at family dinner, Kellan had just said grace, and Lorna just wanted to hold his hand. "White bread and milk, sweetie. You don't want to upset your stomach," she told him, a clear continuation of her basic comment.
Lochlan and Conlan stared each other down as Lorna and Gael selected their food, wondering who would break first. When Morgan started to load up his plate both Irishman said in unison, "No, Morgan, Keirnan said ladies first and Conlan (or Lochlan) hasn't gone yet!" They even pointed at each other.
Ronan sighed through his nose at the sight and sound of Conlan's and Lochlan's idiocy. Thank the father, son, and holy ghosts themselves he was seated next to Gael - even though she was asking questions. "Stuff and things, Gael," Ronan responded with his vagueness well on brand. But whatever his lips said aloud his eyes told the wee one he'd explain more later. Not that it was a big secret, Ronan just did better in smaller, more intimate interactions. "Wait, is that one of my dress shirts?" he finally clocked the fact she'd being using one of his overpriced shirts as a kitchen apron. "We have aprons," he said, then looked to Conlan for confirmation. "We have limited edition replicas of aprons from various media properties," Conlan corrected and gestured toward the hall closet. "But those aren't for cooking," he added. Mint in plastic wrap.
"Ye're a step up from a trash fire, Booger," Ronan told his younger brother, who he loved dearly. Ronan turned his attention back toward Gael, unable to remain cross at her for more than fifteen seconds, especially when compared to Conlan. "Ye're lucky that color brings out yer eyes, devil woman," he told her and his foot moved to bring their ankles together under the table. "And it means at least two of us here are better dressed than Kiernan. Oh, that's a Ginsburn," Ronan slowly rose from the table and performed a brief selection from Kate McKinnon's Ginsburn dance.