As for the Swede, he'd just become a father, and as such, he had the ragged look of someone who'd not slept for over a day, with bloodshot eyes and a slightly edgy grin, if were the grinning type. Skwisgaar hadn't shaved in three days, and his hair was in a state of disarray. Nobody had questioned it, if anyone had noticed it at all. Spending most of his time with Soren, he told Soren stories in his native tongue, and played him songs, ranging from the exalting to the lulling. Sometimes, just sometimes, Skwisgaar could be truly happy, and these were one of those times.
For now, however, Skwisgaar had sprawled himself across a couch, and was plucking at the strings of his guitar as he dozed in a half-sleep daze. Someone had thought to put a blanket over most of him, and tucked the slack off just below the guitar. If he knew that someone was in the room with him, he didn't acknowledge it.