fandomhighdorms | Fifth Floor Common Room [Sunday morning]

After so many requests for pancakes from her own children yesterday morning, Sookie figured that might be a theme for the weekend. And when she woke up, and Henry wasn't gone, at least, she'd run out to get a few supplies before returning to the common room to see what she could put together. (Though, of course, Henry had insisted on coming with her once he realized she was Going to the Store and he might Get Stuff.)

It clearly just wasn't her own children she was worried about, here, Drake/di Glacia/Stackhouse appetites aside. Sookie had bought enough things to make breakfast for pretty much any kids (and parents) who showed up. She was setting to work on the pancakes, but in other pans she was busily scrambling eggs and frying up some bacon. She'd also made a point to buy orange and apple juice and milk both chocolate and white, because there was no way in hell she was letting more of those kids just drink coffee. She didn't care if it was for a weekend, it was just irresponsible.

[open common room! come have breakfast!]

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"How about 'please,' sweetheart?" Sookie asked, putting together a dish for the adorable little girl. "I think that's what your mom is shooting for."

"Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeease," Sylvie said, with her widest, most innocent-looking grin.

'Please' was the awesome word that usually got her whatever she wanted.

Okay, no, usually her father got her whatever she wanted. But for sticky situations, 'please' did the trick.

"I like pancakes," she added. In case that wasn't obvious, to Sookie, already.

"I'm sorry," Rinoa added. "I don't seem to be big on 'discipline.'"

Future-her, anyway.

"I think I'm the only one around here who enforces manners with the temporary kids," Sookie replied, grinning as she put a plate of pancakes before Sylvie.

"Hi!" Henry yelled. "I'm Henry. I'm five."

"Indoor voice, Henry."

"Sorry, Mama."

"I'm Sylvie and I'm four and a half and I'm a princess," she announced.

Rinoa shook her head. "No, she isn't," she said, in an undertone. "Except in the 'spoiled' way."

"Daddy says I'm not spoiled, I'm perfect," Sylvie countered.

Which did, in fact, sound like something Seifer would say.

Good. Her child was definitely well on her way to being an unholy terror.

"My mama's a princess," Henry informed her proudly."

"...only kind of, Henry," Sookie sighed.

"Still! Mama's a princess for reals," he told Sylvie.

"My mom's a sorcyress," Sylvie said. "Which is way cooler than a princess and I'm a princess 'cause I said so."

"No, you aren't," Rinoa said, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Please don't be rude to the other kids, sweetie?"

"I'm not being rude," Sylvie insisted. "And Daddy says other little kids aren't as good as me."

Great. Fabulous. "Okay, we're going to have a long talk about the things Daddy says and how wrong a lot of them are," Rinoa sighed, "but for right now, how about you be nice and eat your pancakes?"

"My mama's a telpath and I am too!" Henry announced. "And a fairy! And your daddy is wrong, I'm just as good as you! I'm better! And my mama's a better princess than you!"

"Henry," Sookie said with a warning note.

"Sylvie," Rinoa said. "Can you apologize?"

"Soooooooooorry," Sylvie said, rolling her eyes.

"Okay," she said, glancing up and spotting Squall nearby. "Can you go play with Tempest for a few minutes? You can take your pancakes."

It was a very grumbly little blonde girl who stomped off. She'd had to apollygize. That was mean.

"Sorry," Rinoa said. "My ex doesn't seem to be big on discipline, either."

"She's very cute, at least," Sookie offered, grinning. "Might be kind of a terror when she's older. And Henry, what do you say?"

Henry considered for a moment before saying, "Just 'cause you're a real princess doesn't mean anyone's better?"

"...that'll work."

"I didn't know you were a princess," Rinoa said, taking a seat on a conveniently-placed chair. "Is Henry ... Bobby's?"

She hoped that wasn't a rude question. And was going to be happy for Sookie, if her future worked out okay.

"He's Bobby's, and he definitely takes after his dad," Sookie sighed, as Henry ignored them in favor of making spaceship noises with his fork. "And the princess thing is like -- complicated. I found out I have a few long-lost relatives of the royal variety over Christmas, and my great-grandfather's a prince, so there you go."

She paused, and added, "Is the little girl Squall's? Or someone else?"

"'Princess' is my code-name, in the Owls," Rinoa said, a smile flickering over her lips. "Because I'm spoiled, not because I'm any kind of royalty."

She stared at Sylvie for a long moment before answering. "No, Sylvie is ... she's not his. My ex. I thought it was over, but I guess, someday ..."

Somehow, they got back together. Maybe she was happy.

She cleared her throat. "The, uh, boy, of Squall's, that's ... with a friend of his. Quistis."

Maybe they were happy, too.

"Hey, none of this is definite, you know," Sookie said carefully, watching her. "I mean, that little blonde girl with Karla? The yelling one? That's my daughter with Karla and Emma. Clearly not happening, sweetie. Bobby has a kid with Kennedy."

"I thought Kennedy was ... with Tara," Rinoa said, not knowing if it was polite to say 'kinda not into boys.' "I don't understand. These children are from the future. How can they ... not happen?"

The children were here via a stable time loop, possibly one caused by time compression. Weren't they? ... Not that that explained why everyone else had children here, come to think of it.

"Kennedy is not into the whole p-e-n-i-s scene at all," Sookie said, kind of throwing aside politeness for bluntness. But there were still kids around so she spelled the offensive word, okay. "It's just the island thinking it's funny. I mean, some of these kids -- like Henry -- could happen. But I mean, they also couldn't. I don't even know if Bobby wants kids. And then there are the ones like my daughter Dahlia, who aren't genetically possible. Fandom just likes to throw curveballs at us sometimes."

Fifth Floor Common Room [Sunday morning]

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