Abigaille had just finished fussing over Evangeline when her expression shifted. Her eyes narrowed, the warmth fading into suspicion, and she placed her hands on her hips like a mother catching her child sneaking cookies before dinner.
"Alright, Kafka." She said slowly, tilting her head. "Why exactly did you come up here?"
He blinked, feigning innocence, though the smirk tugging at his lips ruined the act.
"Don't play dumb with me." Abigaille pointed a finger at him. "I can tell by that look on your face, you're up to something sneaky again. You've got that 'I'm planning mischief' look. So go on, what's your real reason for coming here?"
"Heh. You really do know me the best, Mom." Kafka chuckled softly, rubbing the back of his neck.
"Of course I do." Abigaille replied, crossing her arms proudly. "Now spit it out."
His grin widened. "Well...let's just say I woke up this morning with a bit of a...problem."
Abigaille's brows furrowed. "A problem?"
