Edward's hair was still damp from his shower when he set out to interrupt Roo's artistic endeavours for the second time in fifteen minutes. The boy could be tricky to deflect once he'd found a subject for his art, but that had always been the case; Edward had lost count of the times he'd had to apologise for his son's blocking the main route through art galleries, museums and parks because he'd spotted something he liked the look of.
At least Roo showed a real love and aptitude for the work: unlike Hugh, who'd merely possessed hints of a talent that had never developed any further. Perhaps if he'd gone to war as an artist, rather than as a front-line officer, things would have turned out differently. But then Edward wouldn't have Roo. He wouldn't give Roo up for anything.
"Ready to go?"
Roo nodded and slid down from his vantage point.
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